Spectator Sport

13 June 2009

Roger the Great

For obvious nomenclatural reasons I have always followed the triumphs of Roger Federer with especial interest, as massive back-page headlines like ‘Masterful Roger Rules the World’, or ‘Is Roger the Best Ever?’ lift the spirits no end.

And now only 10 days to Wimbledon and the headlines will be back again. Roger the Great clearly wants it this year, as every year. Particularly to overtake Pete Sampras’s record of 14 Grand Slam titles after he drew level with Sampras in Paris and became only the fourth player of the modern era to win all four Grand Slam titles.

Watching the French final at the weekend, you felt for poor Robin Söderling who was presumably wishing to Christ he could be anywhere else. The most interesting bit of the afternoon — apart from the Fed’s grace in victory, pleasure in his own achievements and effortless ability to switch from English to a beautifully modulated French — was the presence of Vogue dominatrix Anna Wintour, resplendent in gigantic shades and cemented bob haircut — in the Roger box. I then remembered she appears to have a massive crush on him (who doesn’t?) and has taken him as her plus one to the front row of Marc Jacobs fashion shows.

But Wimbledon is about much more than Federer, Anna Wintour and assorted levels of Murraymania. It’s also a showcase for a much more typical kind of Brit. Let’s call him Chris, because he generally is. Chris is 22 and has a world ranking somewhere in the 300s. He and an old school-friend share a flat in Surbiton that’s cluttered with sweaty tennis gear. For 51 weeks of the year Chris ekes out a living on the ATP Challenger circuit, losing in the second round at such tennis meccas as Posnan or Bogota, from where he sends long text messages back to his girlfriend — she works in PR in Chiswick — telling her how much he misses her.

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