Too Good: Federer's Mastery of the Random

If asked to make a list of tennis strategies, serving and volleying might be at the top. Then the drop shot, lob one-two. Maybe I-formation doubles. But you’d be under duress to come up with a name for the strategy Roger Federer used to unnerve Novak Djokovic in the finals of the Cincinnati Masters 1000. In August, Federer executed a carefully planned strategy of randomness and variation. A veritable Sybil, his pace, spin, depth, and angle were entirely unpredictable from point to point. Few players have the range and confidence to play such a game.

The constant change-ups kept Djokovic honest, kept him guessing, and kept him from controlling the match. Federer was impossible to read so Djokovic could never find a rhythm. Federer reified a consistent un-readability that tennis tacticians only dream of. He embodied Baudrillard’s “magic of concept and the charm of the real” simultaneously. Randomness is perhaps a misnomer. Random insofar as the best penalty takers are random. Those who aim left once, right the next, then dead center, top corner the next time with no apparent method prevent goalkeepers from anticipating what to expect. Random in a paradoxically systematic fashion.

Federer’s random is carefully calculated. He doesn’t go for winners on "random" points or take unnecessary risks. He hates the swing for the fences style, as evidenced by the following example. At the 2011 US Open semifinals, Djokovic saved five match points to beat Federer. One shot that particularly angered Federer was a go-for-broke forehand that John McEnroe praised as “one of the all-time great shots”. Federer didn’t regard Djokovic’s risky behavior as a strategy, but as desperation. He vilipended Djokovic’s game, “I mean, please. Some players grow up and play like that – being down 5-2 in the third, and they all just start slapping shots. I never played that way... For me, this is very hard to understand. How can you play a shot like that on match point?”

Djokovic closed out the 2011 semi playing with the why the Hell not? attitude that many qualifiers adopt against top seeded players in hopes of an upset. It’s Lukas Rosol tennis. Dustin Brown tennis. It’s hopeful giant slayer tennis. In other words, Federer saw it as aleatory and beneath the level of tennis that should be played in the semifinal of a Major. In the post-match interview Federer could hardly contain his disdain. Luck, more than anything, had given Djokovic the advantage (well, Federer implied, luck and a shameless willingness to let fly). The 2011 semis was a sour loss. The memory may have informed his decision to adopt a strategy of methodical randomness at Cincy this season.

What’s funny is that Federer rarely deigns to bother with strategy. Players and coaches alike know how Roger is going to play beforehand. Doing so, though, is no advantage because they’re still without a means to win. Cassandra can tell you Troy will be sacked, but you cannot stop the inexorable. If you are incapable of returning the Federer serve or of passing him at net, expect to lose. Federer has the luxury of playing a predictable game because the sheer quality of his strokes and vision preclude his opponent from competing. He has no need to hit to an opponent’s ‘weaker’ side when the ‘stronger’ side poses no threat to begin with. Unless you consider waiting for unforced errors a strategy, Federer can usually rely on an intimidating combination of his talent, sangfroid, and living legend status to beat opponents before they step onto the court.

That there was a semblance of strategy in Federer’s game at Cincy is a testament to Djokovic’s strength as a competitor. Federer famously does not watch his opponents’ early matches or tapes, presumably because he figures he can neutralize any kind of game with his own. It’s possible to construe the careful and diligent use of strategy at Cincy as a concession of sorts. Is Federer acknowledging that he cannot simply go out and play his usual game against Djokovic?

The apogee of success is to be accused of champion’s arrogance: (n.) the unwillingness to adapt one’s game to an opponent’s game based on a myopic and bullheaded belief in the methods of a particular brand of play that produced previous success. It was Cicero who said, “I am blind and too attached to what is noble.” Though it’s difficult to oppugn Federer’s methods, his unyielding belief in his own daedal game as the best game could be a hindrance to success. If he believes too fiercely in the superiority of his tennis, there is little room for adaptation or change--especially if he does not possess the same self-awareness as the famed orator. There is such a thing as over-belief and indulgent loyalty to the purity and integrity of a certain style of play.

You might be inclined to say that Federer’s random strategy embodies a crack in the façade of his champion’s arrogance because he is adapting his game to his opponents’ game. But consider: the random strategy is not tailor-made for Djokovic. It would unsettle any player. We don’t see the strategy on tour often because hardly anyone has the range of shotmaking to execute it and Federer rarely needs to make use of it.

So rather than the random strategy speaking to a decline in his “champion’s arrogance”, the strategy is further proof of said arrogance. The random style Federer adopted against Djokovic is an ever-more distinctly singular brand of Federer tennis. It’s the Federer-est tennis he’s played in years. For a while Federer tried to baseline grind with the rest of the Big Four, but it wasn’t his natural game and he experienced mixed results. The random game, which he alone has the range of shots to make use of, is Federer tennis in its purest form.

He is returning serve closer to the baseline than even he typically does, taking balls earlier, and half-volleying returns of serve. This last one proves that he’s playing more like himself than he has in years.

The ‘rush of blood’ service return is irreverent. It’s difficult, risky, and pays dividends. It’s aggressive and altogether Federer-ian. Funnily, if anyone but he performed such a cheeky act, it would be deemed disrespectful (and he would be the first to express as much). There’s something supercilious about the shot that smacks of mockery. Still, it’s nice to see he’s experimenting in his relative old age, even if it is at the expense of other players’ dignity.

To move in on a second serve is humiliating for an opponent. But Federer did so with aplomb, to Murray and Djokovic both. Federer hasn’t needed to alter his game to his opponents because his personal style of tennis only increases in efficacy as he ages. The only adjustment he has made is to play a more concentrated version of his extant game. His quickness in ending points and the fast pace at which he plays suits an older player as well as it did a young player, unlike the physical game Nadal specializes in.  

It’s a tautology that Federer’s tennis can only be made stronger by amplifying the facets that are singular to his game. He has distilled his game to its purest and most efficacious form. What he brings to court nowadays is his most basic game, no frills. Though, one could argue, his game is composed entirely of frills. And therein lies its beauty. 

Bouleversement at the Open

It happened for me. I saw a 5-set upset, evening session, in Arthur Ashe. I was one of the people creating the electric, charged, incredible atmosphere you occasionally hear John McEnroe describe on TV. I was ‘shushed’ by the umpire. I got to feel that I was a part of tennis history. I contributed to the famous US Open crowd on September 4th and into September 5th. 

Committing to a third round US Open ticket is a crapshoot. In the past two years I’ve seen Sharapova, Federer, and Djokovic in Ashe as is standard. An evening Ashe ticket guarantees you’ll see a big name. But, typically, the big name will crush his or her opponent in fewer than 2 hours and, in all likelihood, in straight sets. It’s fun and you enjoy it because it’s a masterclass in one of the most important venues on Earth. You see tennis royalty and feel the buzz of the hallowed stadium. And the atmosphere is always above average because of the immensity of the event. But, still, you always hope for a thriller in five sets.

Even when you’re lucky enough to witness a special match, it typically follows a set formula.  The marquee player begins poorly, falls behind a set (or two), but pulls it together and ultimately wins. But what I saw was giant killer stuff. Fabio Fognini was, predictably, down two sets to Rafael Nadal. People began to leave the stadium with their young kids. It was getting late, probably around 11 pm. The third set looked like a forgone conclusion. I was yawning and considering leaving, too.

When Fognini took the third set, I didn’t believe he could upset Nadal. The atmosphere had improved from the flatness of the second set, but it still had a straight sets vibe. It seemed that the third set had just slipped out of Rafa’s grasp. And it was probable he would win the fourth set. Why he didn’t puzzled me. I still believed the Spaniard was controlling the match, contrary to what was playing out in front of me. I had no idea that in the fifth set there would be break, after break, after break. The crowd had been growing rowdier throughout the fourth set, but in the fifth it transformed entirely.

Spectators from the last rows of the upper promenade stands started to come down and fill the seats of those who had vacated (what a mistake). Earlier, the crowd had been pulling for Fognini, pulling for another set, pulling for more tennis, pulling for more bang for their buck. In the fifth, the crowd wanted Rafa to win. I was cheering for tennis.

As a Federer fan, part of me wanted to cheer for Fognini. Rafa and Roger couldn’t meet before the final, but still, I didn’t want them to meet at all. Regardless of their rivalry, as a tennis fan (and former player) it’s been difficult to watch Rafa’s confidence plunge. The hesitant shots he struck in the fifth set were pitifully uncharacteristic. So I cheered when he broke and when he was broken both.

I saw John and Patrick McEnroe leaning forward in the commentator’s booth, engrossed in the action like everybody else. The Open hands out personal radios so you can hear the live commentary that is broadcast on TV. I had my radio tuned on, but the McEnroe brothers’ commentary was often drowned out by the stadium sounds that I was part of making.

I knew that if I ever had the chance to see a 5-set, Grand Slam, Big Four match it would be magic. But I thought it would be the sort of magic that happens at a really great concert. At a special concert, you slip into a sort of dreamy anonymity. You feel part of this large unified creature that bobs and hums in unison. There is an energized calm in which you are free of self-consciousness and removed from time. My US Open experience was nothing like a great concert. I was acutely aware of myself and the incredible tension felt by everyone at once. Moments of eerie silence broken by deafening noise do not make for a feeling of calm euphoria. Instead, what I felt was the incredible reality of what was occurring on court. There’s nothing like seeing someone fight for his life. Every shot and every point had real life repercussions. You felt with each stroke Nadal’s fear of crashing out of an early round and Fognini’s fear of thinking about what victory might mean.

Far from being removed from time, I was hyper aware of every second. Once the match came to an end I felt like I could finally breathe. The feeling that something is at stake every moment is exhausting. Once home, I watched some of the match again on DVR. I imagined I could hear my own voice screaming and whooping.

On Sunday, I was watching Federer and the commentators were still talking about the previous night’s match. John McEnroe said the Fognini-Nadal match ranked in his top-five best US Open evening matches ever. This is high praise from someone who has witnessed first-hand (and played) so much phenomenal tennis for so many years. For me, it wasn’t that the match itself lived up to its hype, but that the experience—being at one of those mythical upsets in the flesh—was even better than I had daydreamed it would be.