![]() Online edition of India's National Newspaper Tuesday, Jun 27, 2006 |
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Sport
Nirmal Shekar
FRUSTRATING WAIT: Many fans like this bored couple had to endure a rain-affected opening day before play was suspended. Photo: AP
London : The respect for tradition is so deep-rooted on this hallowed patch of turf in South West London that even that most capricious of souls mother nature cooperates unfailingly. After a week of gorgeous sunshine celebrated by the professional sky-watchers as bar-be-cue weather, Wimbledon 2006 kicked off in bone-chilling conditions, leaving Roger Federer and Richard Gasquet wondering on the centre court if they made a mistake not throwing in a thermal underwear or two in their kit bags. It rained all morning and the weather relented just in time for the defending champion to keep his appointment on the most famous piece of tennis real estate at exactly 1 p.m on Monday. Everything seemed be going on predicted lines. Sir Cliff Richard stood up in his striped suit to acknowledge imaginary cheers, the pigeons perched on the ageing rafters of the old court stopped cooing even the winged ones know their manners in these parts an assortment of royalty was in place in the most famous box in the world of sport and, finally, not the least, the Federer Dream Machine quickly clicked into auto-pilot. Welcome to the 120th running of The Championships. And welcome, too, to yet another edition of Weather Watch, an annual summer sporting ritual unlike any other anywhere in the world. For, the first session of play lasted just over 40 minutes. And then the long wait began before the fans found out that it would be the only session possible. Play was finally abandoned shortly before midnight (IST). Watching the new referee Andrew Jarrett anxiously peek skyward even as Federer closed out the first set (6-3) with his second ace, my old friend Alan Mills as fine an English gentleman as you might find in this day and age must have been laughing into his pint of lager. It's always the same here. In a place not very far from Charles Darwin's celebrated country estate, evolution is an excruciatingly slow process. But, then, to be sure, no one is complaining. And they certainly won't be in the summer of 2009 when there will be a roof in place on the centre court, making way for almost uninterrupted play. If everything goes according to plan, the Swiss maestro will expect to scale an Alpine high that year, trying to match Pete Sampras's record of seven Wimbledon titles. Oh, dear, aren't we getting ahead of ourselves here! Well, blame it on the weather, or perhaps on a touch of mid-summer madness. Meanwhile, Federer himself seemed immune to such afflictions. The champion serenely resumed his fascinating and enjoyable journey towards grass court greatness with an ace, raced to a 3-0 lead in the opening set, and effortlessly raised his game just a notch when Gasquet posed a semblance of a threat. Watching the world champion play on grass, you get the feeling that Federer has seldom been tested enough on this surface by anyone to force him to reach the pinnacle of his virtuosity. For, no sooner than you think that the master has reached top gear, you find out that he has one more perhaps two left. Wishful thinking Imagine Federer at his best playing Pete Sampras at his prime. It will never happen, except in our dreams. Then again, if any sporting dream is worth its while, this one certainly is. You constantly wonder how Federer would have responded to Sampras's walking-on-water tennis in the 1999 final if the Swiss had been Peerless Pete's opponent in place of Andre Agassi. For all his accomplishments here, Federer has still not matched that level here. Maybe he will sometime in the future. But, believe me, that the almost superhuman level at which Sampras played from 3-5 and 0-40 down in the first set to halfway in the third will be hard to match. If anyone can get there, you can be sure that person will answer to the name Roger Federer.
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