Federer-Djokovic clash at the Wimbledon final

“When you come at the King, you best not miss.”
Novak Djokovic took Omar Little’s legendary quote from The Wire to heart when he strolled out to defend his crown against the resurgent, ageless, peerless Roger Federer, at the Wimbledon final, on an overcast Sunday, today. It was a match made in heaven, for Federer fans. Almost 3 years in the wilderness, but the enigma rises again, at the grandest stage of them all, coming into the Final riding on some of the best tennis he has ever played. Or, at least, that was how they had planned their script. But, out came Novak Djokovic, with his bulging muscles, swinging double handed backhand, and a plan to stop the Roger Federer juggernaut. Basically, the antithesis to your Federer fairytale.
The Federer-Djokovic clash was being billed as a clash of the seemingly unstoppable Roger Federer serve and the Novak Djokovic return. The latter being quite easy, the best in the business. And that was how it began. The serve holding up proudly, as Federer started raining aces and forehand winners all over the court. Come the sixth game, Federer suddenly seemed to have hit top gear, all a bit too soon, leaving Djokovic clutching at thin air, breaking him to lead 4-2. This seemed like the one last ascent to the throne, of the hearthrob had begun, much like Zinedine Zidane Paneka-ing Buffon in the early minutes of the 2006 WC Final. But, Djokovic was having none of it. The hallowed Federer serve, which had not only defeated Andy Murray but annihilated him 2 days ago, was immediately broken by the defending champion in the very next game. The war bugle had been sounded, the battle had finally commenced. Djokovic was going to fight for it. For every point, tooth and nail. You’ll have to go over his dead body if you are to take home the coveted crown. The first set tie-break was upon us in no time, with Djokovic also having saved two set points when Federer led him 40-15, at 6-5. Djokovic upped the ante to a seemingly invincible level, taking the tie break 7-1 in no time, with an anti-climatic double fault from Federer being the last nail in the coffin. Endurance. Mental resilience. The ability to deliver the goods at a time and place of his choosing, never mind the opponent. The Serb is the master of ‘em all.
It would have been soul-crushing for the Swiss to have lost the first set in that fashion, but he handled it well and the second set saw serves being held, although the level of tennis on show was almost unbelievable. Federer was still comfortable in his serve, although the first serve percentage was clearly down from the 75% he had managed throughout the tournament. Add to it Djokovic’s barn-burning baseline play, which meant that Roger couldn’t come to attack each point in the vintage serve and volley way. At least not as much as he would have liked to. But, his newly mastered free flowing backhand, which slaps across the opponent’s court like a Muhammad Ali forehand in the prime of his ‘Ali Bomaye’ days, was still supporting him. His game was still holding up, matching Nole, stroke for stroke. Then, the tie-break. The tie-break, which ended up straight in the tie break Hall of Fame. Federer was again down 3-6, and even the most optimistic of fans would have accepted that there could surely be no way back for Federer from 2 sets down, against the inexhaustible and tireless ‘Djoker’. And thus, the Royal Rumble commenced again. Federer proceeded to save 3 break points and it was 6-6. Then, 6-7 to Nole. 7-7.8-7.8-8. This was tennis at its glorious best. This was a love child of gravity defying shots, and the ability to come up with aces when you needed it the most. Clearly, this level couldn’t be sustained for long. Rallies got longer as the players were sweating blood. 10-10. Something had to give. The mind had harked back to the 2 greatest tie breaks of Wimbledon-the Borg-Mac one, and the Roger-Rafa one. Federer earned a set point and converted it with a backhand block volley, after saving 7 break points. Jaws were picked up from the floor as there was delirium the world over. Most importantly, it seemed that we would witness the level of the Murray semifinal again. The grizzled, seasoned warrior, who had seen it all in his time, through the haze of a smoke induced by his own brilliance, while hovering above the mere mortals who played tennis, was surely taking this home now.
The swagger was back and the third set began on an all Federer note. He saved 2 quick break points, and the proceeded to show the full flurry of his strokes. The first serves were going in, the confident serve and volley game was flourishing and soon, he had a break point of his own. But, it was again saved. He was letting too many break points slip. One doesn’t afford that sort of space to a person as unputdownable as Novak. And then, it all exploded. Serving 2-2 and 40-15, Roger Federer suddenly lost his cool and Djokovic took 4 straight points to break his serve. And…the skies opened up. Rain interventions have always helped Federer. Clearly the Gods were watching this and were rooting for a certain 33-year-old gentleman. But, what happened after the play was restarted, was some of the most soul-crushing stuff since Federer came back from 2 sets down, only to lose it in the fifth in *that* 2008 Final. Novak Djokovic proceeded to absolutely destroy Federer at a battering ram like pace in the third set. Also, in the fourth. Even more so than the third. The serve fell apart, more forehands were being netted than were crossing the net and, all in all, a horror film commenced if you are a Federer fan. The Serb took the sets 6-4,6-3, breaking Federer twice in the fourth to take the match. And the Championship. And crushing a million dreams worldwide. The Federer boat had capsized in stunning fashion in the Novak waters. Novak Djokovic was the deserving champion, 7-6(7-1), 6-7(10-12), 6-4,6-3, after 3 hours of high voltage, Mad Max like tennis. And, in typical Novak fashion, he bent down, plucked the grass from the battlefield, and ate it. It “tasted sweeter”, this time around.
Till next time, so long, Monsieur Federer. The Roger Federer, who has been the hero of a generation. We project our dreams, our aspirations on our heroes. We follow sports for the same. To witness something beautiful, something we couldn’t be, something which reaffirms our faith in magic, in the absurd and the surreal, in life. We live through them. Our sports journey is a beautiful amalgamation of extreme emotions. From the fickleness of cursing them when they fail to joyous disbelief when they win to the gut wrenching sucker punch like feel when they lose. It is so unpredictable. Just like life. And to this effect, Roger Federer has been the greatest champion of them all. He has inspired more people than almost anyone else, that too while being bound to a game as elite, as exclusive and as aristocratic as lawn tennis. But, like all great things, his reign at the SW19 also needs to come to an end. So that a new legend can be born. The old needs to wither away to see the young blossom. Just like life. Despite Federer again saying today how much he enjoys his game, at 34 years, he ain’t getting any younger, and when Wimbledon rolls around next year, it would be a bridge too far to expect him to defeat the entire youth brigade all over again. Though I hate to say this, but he is unlikely to win any more trophies on these almost pious grounds. The King seems to be dead. Long live the new King.