1. The people’s king
It’s a beautiful day in paradise. The sun is shining and a light breeze is blowing through the mountains of Gstaad, making the summer heat bearable. It’s the 23rd of July 2013, and the resort town is looking forward to seeing Federer play. The global star hasn’t been here for nine years. But in his desperate search for match practice, he’s stopping in the Bernese Oberland. They’re so delighted that they’ve given him a cow again – as they had done in 2003, after his first Wimbledon victory. But when I happen to see Federer warming up on the courts of the Gstaad Palace a few hours before his match, I feel a pang of foreboding. I see nothing of the legendary elegance and ease, he seems stiff, robotic. His back is clearly still bothering him. Is it really a good idea to face the German Daniel Brands? No, it isn’t, as we learn a few hours later. Federer plays like a poor imitation of himself, seems restrained and soon resigned. After 65 minutes and a 3-6, 4-6 finish he leaves the court with his head bowed.
These are agonising months for Federer. Defending his title in Wimbledon, he fails against Ukrainian unknown Sergiy Stakhovsky in the second round. Throughout 2013, his chronic back issues resurface again and again. After his embarrassing performance in front of the eager home crowds in Gstaad, he’s unlikely to be keen to talk about his feelings. But of course he appears at the obligatory press conference and faces the excruciating questions − and there are quite a few. No one could blame him for keeping it short, but he takes questions for half an hour, even though he himself doesn’t know what will become of him and his back. And then he even takes the time for a chat with the son of former Swiss pro Claudio Mezzadri and the others who have eagerly waited to meet him for the first time. He swallows his frustrations at an uncooperative body, empathising with those who were so excited to see him. Having disappointed them on the court, he takes all the more time for them off-court. He probably wants nothing more than to leave and take care of himself rather than others. This side story speaks volumes about him.
I could have begun this portrait with descriptions of Federer’s magnificent victories. But it’s easy for victors to shine. A person’s true character only reveals itself in difficult moments. Like that day in the Bernese Oberland, at a low point in his career. Federer has often read the two lines from Rudyard Kipling’s “If” inscribed above the entrance to Wimbledon’s Centre Court. He knows them by heart:
“If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same”
The poem ends on the words:
“Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!”
Kipling’s 1910 poem was directed at his son John, who would later die whilst serving in the First World War. To this day, it’s one of the most popular poems in Britain. Federer embodies the spirit of Kipling’s lines. At the very least of those above. For all his wins and titles and his rockstar life, the subject of constant admiration, he has stayed humble. And he refuses to be discouraged by defeats and setbacks.
Federer learned a lot at home, and not just in sporting terms. But the man from rural Basel also rose to the challenge of a life in the limelight and his role as a central figure in the global circus of professional sports. He realised early on that as a beloved player, he is no longer his own man, and that he carries a responsibility towards others. And he bears it, all the while staying true to himself. Whether he wants to or not, Federer shapes other people’s lives. Their admiration for him at times borders on the religious. His most loyal fans invest all their holiday days to fly around the world to see him and spend hours making Federer memorabilia, finding inspiration for t
