I saw God play tennis - A tribute to Roger Federer

4-6, 4-6, 7-6, 7-6, 7-9. Federer netted the forehand and I didn’t come out of my house for two weeks.

It wasn’t about who had played better. It wasn’t about the five sets, the rain delays, the drama, the records getting broken, no. Around midnight, when I saw Rafael Nadal lift the trophy, I slept through one of the worst days of my life. It’s sad to know that your hero has fallen, it’s worse when you see it happen.

One often asks how someone can get so attached to a sport? Babolat says, ‘Tennis runs in our blood’. That’s how I feel about the sport today. It’s something I can give my life for.

I’ve had times when I’ve survived near break-ups, family fights and almost been fired for skiving off to watch a tennis match. The day my sister got married, I was more bothered about whether Agassi would win against Baghdatis in the US Open.

One of the main reasons I feel this way towards the sport, or understand the beauty of sport in the first place is because of Roger Federer.

I saw Federer play for the first time in 2005. Those were the days when he would knit points out of thin air with his racket. I watched him play the Wimbledon final, where he diced Roddick around like a fish in a frying pan.

My father watched the match and told me that one day, this man will be known as the greatest player of all time. I didn’t care. I knew I had watched something special.

It’s natural to support someone who keeps winning. To watch Federer play in his prime is something I’ll tell my grandchildren about, because let’s face it- he was perfect. He glided around on court like he was some kind of a mutant. He’d someone make the entire process of lining up for a ball look like ballet.

He exuded class while playing, and off the court. He was like Arsenal when they were invincible. How does one defeat someone who had the best game around.  A service that piled aces like a vending machine. A forehand that no one will ever come close to seeing again. Net game, lobs, drop shots, our maestro proved that adjectives can only help to describe the sheer greatness of someone’s’ game so much.

I grew up with every Federer victory motivating me to hit an extra ball, run an extra mile and spin and extra slice. He was more than an idol. He shaped my childhood. He was the hero every fan of the game needed and deserved.

He never fell into any controversy, he never showed a hint of rudeness. As each piece of slam silverware collected, he seemed to mature, like whiskey in a barrel.

There have been moment’s when Federer’s hit shots that make you shut up. You just don’t know what to say. The tweener against Djokovic was hyped up. I thought that was flashy. There was one shot that every enthusiast would remember like it was carved in blood in their mind. It was the championship point Nadal had in ‘the tiebreak’.