'Watching Federer play tennis is to understand him, as has often been remarked, as a kind of artist: so graceful was he in motion, so liquid and painterly were his strokes, that he seemed impervious to the slow march of time.' jhnevins writes
, will be the yardstick by which every budding tennis prodigy is measured. Unlike Nadal, the sport’s consummate competitor, and Djokovic, its steely and acrobatic workhorse, Federer’s kind of talent appears fundamentally irreplaceable.
Most satisfying, from a spectator’s perspective, was the way Federer negotiated the two, often in the course of a single point. When behind in a rally, he might throw a slice backhand in there to reset things, always with some pace and spin. Knowing his opponent would have to get some lift on the next shot, he would use that extra half-second to float to his left, around his backhand, and lash a forehand instead, like a conductor whipping his baton.
This might explain why a distinct kind of mournfulness has accompanied the news of Federer’s retirement, delivered in a typed letter quietly posted to his Instagram page last week.