He did it again. Roger Federer beat a high quality opponent in a high quality game at the business end of a tournament. He’s 35, right? I believe his opponent was 21. And, he sweated. People say he doesn’t sweat. Well, he did tonight. It is Miami. Recently, he’s been winning games the gritty, scrappy, hard way. No more Mr. Perfect? I prefer to think of him as not understood. He’s always been gritty and scrappy; it’s that his high level of play hasn’t put him in positions which showcase grit. So now he’s gritty, scrappy, and perfect? Does it get better than that?
Yes! it! does!
Sunday, Roger plays Rafa for the second time this year! What?! No one saw that coming.
A never-public-till-now dream of mine has been to be a sports journalist. Why, you ask? Only in sports journalism can you be so, shall we say, ridiculous. It’s the whole lack of restraint thing. I! love! it! Only in sports journalism can you be so over-the-top yet, it’s ok, it’s even appropriate. It’s what I call: swashbuckling journalism.
But back to reality: Sunday, the legends play. I will be there. Will you?