Every so often we hear about a tennis player, in particular one tennis player, who is “in denial.” He won’t admit that he has a problem, we say. He won’t admit that he’s not what he used to be, that he needs to hire a coach or buy a bigger racquet, or that if he only charged the net like a demented rhinoceros he would never lose to a certain Spanish rival of his again. This player claims that he just needs time to “figure out” the young guys, that we should talk to him about how his game is “in six months,” that even when he’s losing to that certain Spanish rival, the match is on his racquet.
This player, of course, is Roger Federer, and the “in denial” charge has been directed at him since at least the spring of 2006, a time when he would chalk up his clay-court losses to Rafael Nadal as learning experiences, rather than signs that he was about to be eclipsed by another player. It’s a charge that was still being leveled at Federer as of this spring, at Indian Wells, when he refused to admit that he needed to make any significant changes after suffering his third straight defeat to Novak Djokovic.
It's worth noting that Federer wasn’t wrong in either of those cases. While he never figured out Nadal on clay, his 2006 turned out to be one the best seasons in tennis history. And while Federer hasn’t won anything of note since Indian Wells, he did turn it around against Djokovic at the French Open. I’ve never been sure about the “in denial” charge and its significance. We have no idea what Federer admits to himself or his team. He could be putting up a front in public; if he admitted a lack of confidence to the world, we would almost certainly accuse him showing too much weakness. That’s what happened to Nadal at the French Open. The Spaniard talked openly, even as he was winning, of his shaky confidence; one of his opponents there, Ivan Ljubicic, said he heard Nadal’s words and that they gave him a little more reason to hope. Who would want to give an opponent hope? Pro athletes must live in denial to a certain degree, to keep themselves pysched up and positive even through disappointing moments.
Coming to Cincinnati this week, though, there was a slight shift in tone from Federer. He had lost to Jo-Wilfried Tsonga for the second straight time, in Montreal, and had been badly outplayed in the third set. Before his first match in Cincy, against Juan Martin del Potro, Federer talked about his nerves coming into the event, about how he didn’t want to go out in the first round. He acknowledged that he had lost his last two matches to del Potro and that he didn’t want to make it a third. It’s not as if Federer had suddenly decided to bare his soul; he made sure to say that the nerves were normal and healthy, and he was happy to know that he still cared enough to feel them. But the emphasis was different. Federer was more open about both his anxiety and his desire to get back on a winning track. He was hungry.
And that’s how he played last night, from the first game on. Federer was proactive—he went after del Potro’s forehand, stretching the big guy out wide to his right. Afterward, Federer said he that he had been able to keep the Argentine from playing the way he likes to play, and it was true. It was classic how-to-play-a-big-man strategy: From the ground, you work both sides of the court and make him move between them; on your serve, you drill your share of balls right at him, which is what Federer did to fend off a break point at 2-3 in the second set, when del Potro was threatening to turn the match around.
It was quality tennis overall—Federer and del Potro match up well, the same way that Djokovic and Nadal do. Del Potro showed flashes of greatness, hitting bullet forehands to the corners and passing Federer from both wings. But as he did against Nadal at Wimbledon, he made errors at important moments. Del Potro, while back at full strength, remains a shot or two away from his best self.
This was Federer's best self, or at least the best he can reasonably hope to be in 2011. He showed off that old stabbing touch at the net. He snapped off a vintage backhand overhead (one of his shots that seem borrowed from squash). He went after his backhand up the line. He mixed his serves well. And when the inevitable shanks came, he found a way to win points and hold serve anyway. That’s the kind of tennis Federer has to play these days—accepting the mistakes and soldiering past them.
What was most impressive to me, as it was in his win over Djokovic at Roland Garros, were Federer’s speed and reflexes, which remain stunningly undiminished at 30—he’s not as bouncy and springy as he once was, but he seems to be just as fast, and he gets just as many returns back that you don’t think he’s going to get back. Federer has always had a deep aversion to the missed return, and he began last night by blocking back a few seemingly unreturnable del Potro serves. There are few things more annoying than that, and it had an immediate effect. Down 1-2 and break point, del Potro went for a bigger first serve than usual, missed it long, and subsequently lost the point to go down 1-3. The match’s tone was established and Federer served out the set from there.
Federer’s decline is inevitable, but as time goes on, it seems just as inevitable that the arc of that decline won’t be smooth. It will continue to have bumps upward; moments, matches, tournaments, perhaps Grand Slams, when he's as good as he ever was. They tend to happen as each Slam approaches. During the clay season, Federer has historically been at his best at the tournament right before the French Open, whether it was held in Hamburg or Madrid. And the same goes for Cincy, the tournament before the U.S. Open, which he has won four times.
We’ll see how long last night’s form lasts, and it carries over to Flushing Meadows. So far in Cincy, Federer has cast himself as a former No. 1 eager to get the most out of his remaining years on tour, rather than a former No. 1 trying to fend off his younger rivals or denying that they, at least for the moment, have passed him by. He played like the hunter, rather than the hunted.
To quote a wise American beer-commercial star, even after 12 years on tour and 16 major titles, it pays to stay thirsty, my friend.