I thank you for motivating me in the form of a troubled teen to move on to the next day, to be kind, to improve, and to strive for excellence in everything I do. Despite all the homeless shelter bouncing, the nights spent huddled in our car with my brother in empty parking lots, abusive family members, and the lingering trauma...thank you Roger for being one of the only positive consistencies in my adolescent years, which was one of the most turbulent times of my life. Back then, I never knew what awaited tomorrow: would we have food, shelter, safety? But what was a guarantee was a match of yours was often waiting for me when I got home, and many times it was the only hope I ever had, just the anticipation that I might see you play. I never received an autograph in person from you but I will reminisce to any future grandchildren that I might have of the days I had the privileged pleasure of watching you play in person at a time when your game was at its most immaculate. You redefined the game, or at least you redefined my definition of it.
The first time I saw you play was at the semifinal of the US Open 2009. I froze (and *may* have spilled my drink on myself during the tweener). I had never seen a player move as you did. You danced. You flowed, and when you struck, your hits sounded like the thunder of gods, even at the grandiose heights of Arthur Ashe Stadium. Your form would remain in freeze frame for a split second, gliding into space as though for one rare instant in time, you were granted the gift of flight that even those feathered Aves would eye enviously. "Federer": despite the name's origin, you were not a quill maker, you floated as a feather and inspired a generation of sports writers who have had the unparalleled delight of watching you play. Your strikes like brush strokes, your movements like choreography, your on-court silence made room for the applause that would always follow from the mass of awe-inspired spectators around you. You were, are, and will forever be this spectral danseur who graced us longer than we could have ever hoped for and probably even longer than we deserved. I knew this day would come.
This year, the idea of it was lodged in my throat like an impending truth I couldn't swallow. I prophesied back in 2010 that you would play on tour until your body could no longer allow it, and so you have. Thank you for these glorious years of emotions, finesse, dedication, and life lessons...the wins, and the opportunities for growth (I won't use the other word). You have brought fulfillment and joy in my life in ways I never could have imagined one would through a sport. For this I thank you. I look forward to any future commentary, coaching, and off-tour events you're willing to still grace us with. Thank you for this journey. It has certainly been a hell of a ride and I will always be proud to say I watched arguably the greatest tennis player of the Open Era wield his racquet, a soft-spoken lion with a lance, who transcended a sport into a powerful art but more importantly, did so with grace, humility, and unadulterated passion. Goodbye, Roger, but I hope this is only the closing of a chapter, not the end of an incredible novel. I look forward to seeing you again shortly, in some form or another.
PS. I'm still holding out for that autograph in person.
That pesky fan who used to send you envelopes with sketches of little Swiss cows on them,
Editor-in-Chief of The Swisstro
"When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me".
Letter photos source: https://www.instagram.com/rogerfederer/?hl=en
Photography source: Kamille Hackney Photography ©
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