As I speak, Roger Federer is trouncing Davydenko. Watching anybody play with Federer (except when he has clay under his feet and his opponents name spells N-A-D-A-L) is like watching a high school kid enter the ropes to fight a Muhhamad Ali. There is zero hope and Federer kills the very definition of sport : uncertainity.
I’ve often wondered if this man has a limit. What I’ve realised is that even if there was one, it is meaningless. There would be no reference points. So if we see it, we wouldn’t know it. Or rather, we wouldn’t believe it. Every time the opponent raises the bar, Federer goes higher with efforless ease. In my view, he will win every game sans the inevitable one : time.
A cynical thought – not a good one for Federer’s fans – How would it be if Federer retired now? Blaming the lack of competition? Would that deify him? Would he not become a saint? a religion? Arrrrgh – if only HE didn’t invent clay!
