Lo and behold...it is another tournament featuring the once and future King. Roger Federer. Federer in the house changes everything. The air went out of the tournament at the French Open when Roger took a powder. Everyone oohing and ahhing over the tennis as if these were some kind of iconic matches. The fact of the matter it was dull and it is going down hill. The same thirty something crowd is still on top of the heap. It is a matter of time but it wasn't time yet. I have never seen the top players playing the "moon ball" so frequently. Like the ladies and the juniors do. It is all the same now. At least on the clay.
But here we are on some honest to goodness turf. Well...that is not necessarily true either. It is some kind of hybrid grass cooked up in a Wuhan laboratory. Wait a minute...I was confused there. It was the "virus" that was supposedly cooked up there. I don't believe that either. It is too convenient. But anyways...the grass is always greener now because it is as near to fake grass as it gets. It is more like some kind of velcro. Remember when three of the four majors were played on grass. Slick and fast. Those were the days...trust me on this one. These guys in the modern game would be first round fodder under the old conditions. Not a single one of them has any inkling about how to serve and volley. We are about to witness how much the game has actually devolved with all of the engineering and the ego wrangling.
This is such an ironic moment. Roger is back at a tournament where he has won umpteen times. But looking at the draw it is going to be interesting. Experience is a huge factor in this game...to a point. To the point where the legs won't zip your carcass around the court any longer. Is Roger there? The question marks certainly are there. His withdrawal from the French cost him a few Brownie points in certain circles. Not mind of course. I think he had to protect the surgery on the knee. There wasn't any abuse of privilege. He entered the tournament in good faith and he did his best. The knee was talking to him. Don't do it...don't do it, it was pleading. You have to listen to your body. That comes with experience.
Normally the first couple of days are only "foreplay" before we get to the meat of the tourney. But whenever Roger is in the house it fills a void. The drama is built into the draw sheet from the very first match. You could longingly project a Federer vs. Tsitsipas final if you smoked enough. After a couple of stiff ones. But it is one match at a time. One set at a time. One game and point at a time. The irony of the situation is sizzling. The question marks surrounding Roger lit up like neon signs.
Ladies and Germs...without further ado. I present to you...Roger Federer and the supporting cast of characters.
But here we are on some honest to goodness turf. Well...that is not necessarily true either. It is some kind of hybrid grass cooked up in a Wuhan laboratory. Wait a minute...I was confused there. It was the "virus" that was supposedly cooked up there. I don't believe that either. It is too convenient. But anyways...the grass is always greener now because it is as near to fake grass as it gets. It is more like some kind of velcro. Remember when three of the four majors were played on grass. Slick and fast. Those were the days...trust me on this one. These guys in the modern game would be first round fodder under the old conditions. Not a single one of them has any inkling about how to serve and volley. We are about to witness how much the game has actually devolved with all of the engineering and the ego wrangling.
This is such an ironic moment. Roger is back at a tournament where he has won umpteen times. But looking at the draw it is going to be interesting. Experience is a huge factor in this game...to a point. To the point where the legs won't zip your carcass around the court any longer. Is Roger there? The question marks certainly are there. His withdrawal from the French cost him a few Brownie points in certain circles. Not mind of course. I think he had to protect the surgery on the knee. There wasn't any abuse of privilege. He entered the tournament in good faith and he did his best. The knee was talking to him. Don't do it...don't do it, it was pleading. You have to listen to your body. That comes with experience.
Normally the first couple of days are only "foreplay" before we get to the meat of the tourney. But whenever Roger is in the house it fills a void. The drama is built into the draw sheet from the very first match. You could longingly project a Federer vs. Tsitsipas final if you smoked enough. After a couple of stiff ones. But it is one match at a time. One set at a time. One game and point at a time. The irony of the situation is sizzling. The question marks surrounding Roger lit up like neon signs.
Ladies and Germs...without further ado. I present to you...Roger Federer and the supporting cast of characters.
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