Roger, my Roger

Ever since that gloriously sunny day ten years ago, I have been in love with the tennis of Roger Federer.  You might even say I love Roger Federer.  But I like to say I'm just on thisside of stalking, so we'll go with loving his tennis.  After he beat Pete Sampras (who I never loved for some reason), I thought he would take the tennis world by storm.  I remember being vaguely disappointed that it took him two more years to win at Wimbledon.

Take the tennis world by storm he did.  Being a Roger Federer fan during the Pax Federana (as dubbed by one of my favorite tennis bloggers) was a happy thing.  He would always win!  And he always won so beautifully!  I compared him to Baryshnikov--it was an effortlessly smooth game and oh so easy to be passionate about.  He seemed to float across the court and could hit any shot from anywhere.  Plus, that hair!!!  :)    He lost so infrequently that I just looked at a loss as an anomoly.  Oh, and I also instantly disliked whoever beat him.  Which accounts for my ongoing distaste for Nadal.  But Roger was also so elegant, so classy, that I felt vaguely small for disliking opponents he praised.  Didn't stop my dislike, though.

Ten years of love and beauty.  How quickly they fly by.  It's been a great run.  I still love watching the effortless beauty of Roger's game.  The French Open this year (until he lost in the final) was like old times.  Wimbledon this year was also lovely (until yesterday).  But the losses are coming so quickly now.  He hasn't given me a chance to get ready for this new phase of his career--the dangerous champion who is still a threat to win, but lots of things have to fall his way for it to happen.  I still try to do my part: I'm a big believer in jinxing and such, so there are lots of weird rituals (which are actually more like Nadal, but oh well), feeling like I'm helping in some way.  So dumb.  But I'll keep going as long as he does.  And I'm sure I'll still cry at the big losses (though I didn't cry yesterday, because I genuinely like the joie de vivre of Tsonga),  I feel certain Roger has at least one more Slam in him, maybe two or three, and I'll be there to revel in it.  I just need to figure out what I'm going to do once he figures out what he's going to do.  Maybe Dmitrov (who Tsonga also beat at Wimbledon this year.  Hmmmm, symmetry...) will fill the bill.  I just hope it doesn't take him forever to step up to the plate.  As for the semi-finalists this year, I'm rooting for Murray and Tsonga to make the final.  I'm trying to figure out which rituals I should adopt to help them along.  

Below, enjoy the only photos I've ever gotten of Roger, up close, practicing at the Open.  Here's hoping I have many more chances to get even better photos of a man I've borderline obsessed over for ten years.  Ten more years?  Too much to ask?