Roger Federer Relocates to...Positively 4th Street by JA Allen

Roger Federer, our sublime tennis hero reborn, adorned in a shimmering blue sweater, eyes glistening, bathed in amber sunlight, crown intact, moves serenely into a bank of microphones surrounded by an always aggressive media corps…

You won the prize, Roger. Your world has been righted…your critics subdued. They are all singing your praises now that you have won your fifth straight US Open crown. You are master of your domain.

The yo-yo press is taking its lumps in style. Even petulant old desk jockeys parrot a new refrain, anointing Roger King for a Day. Massive back-pedaling progresses. In the midst of all of this melodramatic crow eating, however, an uncertainty surfaces.

Somehow, the accolades are less ebullient and the victory hangover less pervasive than in 2007, when the entire press corps agreed that excluding red clay, our boy was golden, perfect and practically unbeatable. Roger believed it, too. As did we all.

It is understandable. As a society, we are harsh —even fickle. We worship youth and beauty enhanced by sustained mental, physical and spiritual excellence. We cannot forgive or accept imperfections in our heroes, especially the press—aka, the forecasters of the fatal flaw.

Confined unwittingly to a bell jar, the sports wing of the fourth estate awaits the fall, the disintegration, and another catastrophic collapse. The end product is the ultimate break-through story. As streaks unfold, the press predicts and analyzes not only what happened but more profoundly what will happen tonight, tomorrow or at the end of the season.

All the while, on-air commentators hope for a final break, a release allowing a breath of fresh air into a predictable but often stale world order. The press needs change, shifting focus and new personalities in order to breathe life into their words and their interpretation of events. Otherwise, they remain trapped in their vacuum and cease to be relevant.

The reversed stance on the Mighty Federer’s career after the 2008 US Open victory represents a reprieve and not an absolution. Roger understands this now.

In 2008, he fell to earth. Federer’s escalation to the top of men’s tennis resulted in a prolonged flight too close to perfection. While there, he soared above his competition with a display of tennis acumen that left his competition seemingly flat-footed and chained to the ground.

Reporters exhausted an extensive reserve of superlatives in describing the game of Roger Federer for 4½ years.

As his wings began to melt in January of 2008, Roger could no longer sustain his ethereal level of play. His downward trajectory, however, allowed him a different perspective. As he tumbled toward earth, he learned about existing within the reality of his sport.

All the hours he spent courting the media jesters, reacting to their deadlines, their pleas for more substance, to add more grist for the media mill—were rewarded in 2008 by diatribes about Roger’s ineffective footwork, his age, his inability to summon his best, his dearth of effort, will and his mental and physical exhaustion. They were already anointing another No. 1 before he hit the ground and bounced down to No. 2.

The relationships he felt he had cultivated in the sports world had evaporated. The respect Roger felt he deserved was denied. His disappointment and disillusionment were palpable in his demeanor and through his remarks. Inevitably, the next loss Roger Federer suffers will bring a return of the negative back hand of the press.

Even though Roger feels he lost the media war, he won thousands of new fans. He regained his form and is on the verge of soaring again, perhaps not quite as high or for quite so long.

The stratosphere is a bit more crowded these days. Competition is intense. But Federer is back and the tennis world is more complete for his ascension. There will, however, never be another tennis athlete to fly so long and so close to the sun…

Wiser and better equipped to deal with his demons, our splendid hero now perches high on a balcony overlooking the courtyard being celebrated by thousands of onlookers. Ready to compete in the Davis Cup, our handsome Swiss hero smiles and waves to his grateful fans.

Finally he turns back to the press smiling, strumming slowly, recalling the lyrics of an old rock classic penned by the acidic troubadour Bob Dylan…you’ve gotta lotta nerve…

Confessions of a Tennis Junkie by JA Allen

September 1, 2008

Jerry Lewis made only one significant film—The King of Comedy—also starring Robert De Niro. There is no doubt that the quality of Lewis’ performance is aided in no small measure by Martin Scorsese’s direction.

On the surface, the film explores the uneasy relationship between a star and his “fans.” It is a quirky, edgy film—leaving onlookers feeling just a little uncomfortable, a little claustrophobic as De Niro and Sandra Bernhard harass Jerry, a famous talk show host, by following him around, invading his office, showing up at his house and eventually kidnapping him.

That is basically how I feel about my own addiction. I am a tennis junkie.

You may find me at all hours watching grainy, often jerky live-streaming matches on my laptop or worse yet, sitting with my chin in my hands watching scores blink on a “live score” site just so I can try to keep up with a worldwide sport largely ignored in the United States.

The truth of the matter is that I secretly suffer from TOPD—Tennis Obsessive Personality Disorder.

Throughout the years I have been obsessed with particular players, starting with the body-beautiful Bjorn Borg. Currently I am embroiled in my Roger Federer phase and I have been ever since chiseled Federer defeated Sampras at Wimbledon in 2001.

Being a “fan” of someone I do not know and will never know—following every move, word and gesture—strikes me as intrusive and unnatural. When Roger loses, I feel like someone close to me died. I suffer.

This puts me on par with the crazed characters in Scorsese’s film. Yet, I am not a fool—I know my behavior is excessive and I feel guilty about it. I long to be objective.

Here is the cruel irony of being an obsessed tennis fan—being the fan of an actor allows for decades of adulation. Even fans of teams can cheer on year after year, regardless of who populates the roster.

But to reach the top in tennis is an incredible feat. To stay at the top is an even greater accomplishment. Impossibly, once on top, the fan needs the reign to go on forever. It becomes, then, not Roger Federer’s Quest for Perfection, but our expectation of it.
Moreover, it is the media’s insatiable need to report, to stay on top, to be relevant that spurs on the constant demand for victory on a perfect note.

First, we nag Roger to win a Major—then a Slam. When he does that, we insist that he win two—then three—every year!

When he wins three—we chide him for not winning the French—just as we did Borg, who never won the U.S. Open; or Sampras, who also never won the French; or Wilander, who never won Wimbledon.

Agassi won on all surfaces and an Olympic gold medal, but he didn’t win enough. We are never satisfied as fans. We are spoon-fed our natural dissatisfaction through the media who articulate shortcomings as if their livelihood depended on it! We expect our sports heroes to obtain the perfection we lack in our own lives.

Throughout the years, I have come to understand that a “fan” like me invests heavily in the life of the star athlete. We who lead lives of quiet desperation, associating our own well-being through the success of our heroes.

No one applauds my sacrifices or successes. No one follows me around and bombards me with questions. The public remains blankly unaware of me. That is not to say that what I do for a living is less important, but it is easier to accomplish.

There are thousands capable of doing what I do—but only one or two who stand at the pinnacle of tennis. As my roles in life diminish and my persona fades, I rely on tennis to fill the voids left by age, divorce, solitude, and lack of talent.

I think what Scorsese was getting at in his film was perspective—from whose point of view is the truth revealed?

Comments:
Long John Silver posted about 1 year ago
once again - you have impressed me to no bounds, 2/2 your second article and am POTD ing again

why - because its nakedly true

the desire to not really worship - but understand someone in both victory and defeat is what that separates from a true junkie to a casual observer, you can see and observe what others cant

beautiful - am working on a similar piece ... you beat me to it, hence that will wait

wonderful JA - I like your take on the game, not just reporting, but you go behind the theory and the psychology of the game and the fans -

cheers - keep writing yeah ...

L.J. Burgess posted about 1 year ago
Stunning work. Stunning.

I've often felt that my complete detachment from wordly 'heros' was a psychological issue.

What a relief.