Wimbledon’s Court 19 is nothing special. Nothing of any major significance ever happens on Court 19, other than Mansour Bahrami delighting the crowd with his spectacular moustache and court-jester routine. But a few hours before the start of play on men’s quarter-final day, it was surrounded by television cameras, photographers and a host of people taking an impromptu break from work.
The awestruck silence said it all, the disbelieving grins. Roger Federer was there, looking immaculate as he prepared for his match against Marin Cilic by hitting with Ivan Ljubicic. Every time someone wandered by, their head turned and they stopped, no matter how fast they were walking. Federer strolled around the baseline practising serves, then moved on to backhand returns. He did not miss once and barely made a sound as he moved, seeming to glide across the grass, his footwork elegant and balletic. Nor did it fluster him that dozens of people were watching him train in hushed reverie.
Such is the power and mystique of Federer, the full extent of which was seen on Centre Court later that afternoon. The obituaries were being prepared when the 34-year-old Swiss, who had missed a chunk of the season with back and knee injuries, trailed Cilic by two sets. Yet he roared back to win in five sets, drowning his Croat opponent with wave after wave of lethal groundstrokes. By the end of a match that lasted three hours and 17 minutes, Federer was moving better than ever and an 18th grand slam title remained within sight.
Later that evening, another sporting great was in action as Portugal faced Wales in their Euro 2016 semi-final. The match was settled by a turbo leap from Cristiano Ronaldo, who hung in the air for even longer than a barbecued pig flying through Springfield. Ronaldo is a brilliant header of the ball, not only because his astonishing spring allows him to soar above defenders, but also because the amount of gel he uses in his hair means he could dive into an empty swimming pool and emerge unscathed.
Forget those pulsing neck muscles, the terrifying force of his headers surely originates from his rock?solid rug, a triumph of elite male grooming, styling elevated to the highest peak.
Few stars are as divisive as Ronaldo, who winked and wound up the rest of Europe with those comments belittling Iceland at the start of the tournament but it is impossible to deny his brilliance, even if you find his character unpalatable. The chances of him having the last laugh in the final were high.
Federer and Ronaldo have dominated their respective sports for years but they are not similar in style. If Federer is more like Lionel Messi, then Ronaldo is Rafael Nadal, hardly lacking technically but defined above all by his supreme physical prowess. Equally, however, Federer could not float around the court without painstaking work in the gym. This is where the two men collide. Federer may not have Ronaldo’s rippling muscles but he is much stronger than he looks.
That all changed last week. Struggling to contain a resurgent Milos Raonic in their semi-final, Federer’s body was pushed to the limit. He had a massage on his aching right thigh, then fell and banged his left knee at the start of the fifth set. Raonic secured the crucial break shortly afterwards; it was the equivalent of Tony Soprano beating up Perry Annunziata to show that he was still the boss, only to throw up in front of his entire crew.
No one could remember Federer losing his footing like that before, especially not in front of a stunned Centre Court. The response to something as mundane as a simple stumble was utter shock. Yet Federer is 35 next month and it is not a surprise his body is showing signs of wear and tear. It happens to everyone and when it happens to the best it is even more galling, a reminder of our own fallibility. Two days after Federer’s toppling, the 31-year-old Ronaldo’s dream of dragging Portugal to European glory against France was ruined by a firm but clumsy challenge from Dimitri Payet.
Like Federer, examples of Ronaldo going off injured are sparse and although he tried to ’tis?but?a?scratch his way back on to the pitch, his game was over.
Yet the anticipated schadenfreude never arrived, the whistling from the French fans soon giving way to an outpouring of sympathy. Plenty of people had wanted to revel in his misery but not like this; no, we wanted him to miss the decisive penalty in a shootout or score a comical own goal. Anyone watching the tears well up in Ronaldo’s eyes and the bottom lip tremble would have needed a heart as hard as his hair not to be moved. At least he returned at the start of extra time in his new role as the most successful assistant manager of all time, a demented presence on the touchline as Éder scored the winner for Portugal. Despite Éder’s startling contribution, that match will always be remembered more for Ronaldo’s early departure. The sight of Federer and Ronaldo tumbling spoke to us on a deeper level. These people are so often described as superhuman it is easy to forget they also spend their evenings lazing. Yet while the tiniest dimming of an athlete’s aura has a humanising effect, it also manages to be oddly unsettling at the same time, stripping away a layer of the fantasy. If Federer can fall, then so can I.