This morning, while still in bed, I turned on the TV to find the end of the men’s Wimbledon final playing. Federer and Roddick were in their final set and I squinted for a second. Were they in a tiebreaker? What was going on?
No, the two men had been engaged in an epic struggle that had taken the set to double digits.
Of course, in the end, Federer managed to play a little better a little longer, and broke Roddick’s serve to win the final set 16 games to 14 games. The match had lasted over 4 hours.
I don’t watch tennis. I used to play a bit of tennis back in high school, but I don’t think I’ve picked a racket 5 times since then. It was hard, however, despite my time away from the sport, to not feel like I had watched something important.
And to not sink into the eyes of Andy Roddick, after hitting his final shot out of bounds, and feel his pain. Apparently, Federer has won more important tennis tournaments than anyone else ever. And he’s ranked higher. And he’s considered by most to be the best in the world.
But a 30-game final set? To hold serve and go toe-to-toe for over 90 minutes and then, in a matter of minutes, have it all end in a second-place finish, to get a big plate instead of a big trophy. It has to suck.
To you, Andy Roddick. I’m sorry that today ended up being one of the most painful matches of your career. You went the distance.
