If you watched the men’s Wimbledon final last night, you really don’t have to read this. This is more to vent out my feelings. Sport is cruel and every game has a winner, but what is the point of winning games such as these? I have nothing against Federer. He definitely has earned his place in history books, but yesterday, he was not the best player on court. Well, you can say he played good enough to hang in there and held his nerve when it mattered – in the second set tie-break and the final game – but is that all there is? Andy Roddick was nowhere in the reckoning to make it to the final. Not after he had to face Hewitt in the quarters and Murray in the semis. Yet, he believed and showed us why we should too.
Watching Roddick play against Murray, I thought Federer was going to have a difficult time in the final. But I remembered the Australian Open final where Roddick was utterly destroyed in a 3-setter. So although I had decided to stay home and watch the match, I thought that the first set would hold the key; if Federer wins it comfortably, I am better off watching a movie. That Roddick would take his game to such heights was beyond my wildest imagination.
I was worried for Roddick when the game ended. How can you deal with a result like that? And then, within minutes you are expected to comment on the match, congratulate the opponent, and courteously accept the second prize. Man! He didn’t have to go through that! Not after the way he played last night.
If anything, my respect for Federer fell a bit yesterday. He didn’t even acknowledge that Roddick was the better player on court. Maybe we give Federer too much credit for his personality. Maybe he wanted the record badly. I was hoping that Federer, at some point, would say that Roddick was the real winner last night. But that’s me getting too filmy, I guess.
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