I don’t remember a world where Roger Federer isn’t playing tennis

Roger Federer holding the Wimbledon Tennis Championships trophy after defeating Rafael Nadal of Spain in the Men's singles final on July 9, 2006.

My heart sank when Roger Federer’s tweet popped up on my timeline. Even though I knew it was around the corner, nothing could have prepared me for his retirement. Federer isn’t just a legendary tennis player. He is an emotion. He was the last link to my childhood, and I don’t remember a world where he isn’t playing tennis.

I first saw Federer when I was 10. He was up against his childhood hero Pete Sampras, who held the record for most number of Grand Slams at the time. Sampras had been there, done that.

Federer, 19, had stepped on to the famous centre court of Wimbledon for the first time in his life. But he wasn’t overawed by the situation.

Federer persevered and landed two match points in the fifth set after three hours and 41 minutes of incredible tennis. Silence enveloped the stadium in anticipation. Sampras served out wide and charged towards the net in the hope of playing a trademark volley. But Federer latched on to the serve. The seven-time Wimbledon champion had been knocked out by a teenager in a thrilling five setter. The baton had been passed.

The moment he won the match, Federer collapsed on his knees, and burst into tears. When he walked up to the net to shake hands with Sampras, he still seemed in awe of the man he had just beaten. His conduct that evening was endearing. He remained humble, he remained grounded. He cried his heart out.

Two years after that epic match, in 2003, Federer beat Mark Philippoussis in the finals to lift his first ever Wimbledon trophy. The love affair had begun. Federer’s with the game of tennis. And mine with Federer.

Being a Federer fan during that decade felt like you owned the world. There was an aura of invincibility around him that you could sense through your TV screens. Perhaps because it has been 10 years since Federer dominated the sport, we sometimes tend to forget how insane his peak was. It was the closest someone has ever come to perfection.

Beginning 2005, he made 18 out of the 19 Grand Slam finals. He reached the semi finals 23 times on the trot. And still holds the record for most consecutive weeks at number one (237).

Federer won five US Open titles in a row between 2004 and 2008. No man has even defended his title in New York since then. He bagged five Wimbledon titles back-to-back. He is the oldest to have ever been crowned the world number 1. He retires with 20 Grand Slams, 103 ATP singles titles and 1,526 career matches.

Yet, the fact that Federer’s legacy goes beyond these remarkable numbers is a testament to his personality and grace on and off the court. He won a ridiculous amount of matches. Yet numbers don’t fully convey his legend. Because emotions go beyond numbers.

On the tennis tour, there were several good players. Few of them were great players. Fewer among them were legends. But only one of them was an artist.

Federer didn’t run. He used to glide. He approached the net with the ease of a ballet dancer. His single-handed backhand was as majestic as a liner coming into port. Watching Federer at work was a spiritual experience. It transcended you into a different universe. In a game measured in terms of numbers, he often made the scoreboard redundant.

Watching Federer, however, became harder work in the last 10 years, especially with the emergence of Rafa Nadal and Novak Djokovic. The inevitability of his wins was gone.

I am still trying to erase that 2019 Wimbledon final from my memory. I would be happy to trade a couple of my journalism awards to go back in time and change the result of the match. He had two match points on serve against Novak Djokovic in the fifth set. It would have been his greatest win but he squandered it.

But Federer’s charm lies as much in his elegance as it does in his fallibility.

Therefore, even when he didn't add many titles, the popularity continued to soar. We knew we were witnessing a genius in decline. But we still came for that moment of magic. And every now and then, he played shots that reminded us of his vintage self. A backhand down the line telling the crowd he has still got it. An exquisite drop shot warning the world that his racquet continues to produce music, albeit inconsistently. The trademark serve and volley, reminding us why we fell in love with his poetry in the first place.

Throughout the ups and downs, Federer’s demeanor hardly changed. Never did his competitive spirit get ugly or cross the line of gamesmanship. He fought like a warrior, but he did it with dignity and grace. He combined the strength of a lion and the subtlety of a serpent. You would rarely see him attack the chair umpire or smash his racquet on the ground. Every now and then, he roared, “come on”, reassuring his fans that the fire in the belly was burning behind the calm exterior.

And when it all came to an end, Federer didn’t shy away from showing his emotions. After he won his first Wimbledon, his post-match interview was adorable. He could barely complete his sentences. Overwhelmed with emotions, he said, “I am so happy,” and broke down into tears.

Sixteen years later, he won his eighth Wimbledon title - surpassing the record of Pete Sampras, his childhood hero. This time around, he was more suave and eloquent. He had been there, done that.

Yet, the humility and emotions hardly changed with years. He was as overwhelmed winning his eighth title as he was when he first lifted the glittering trophy. He cried his heart out, and the childlike, innocent grin was intact. It still meant as much as it did 16 years ago.

Two matches strike out for me from his long career.

In the 2009 Australian Open, Federer lost to his great friend and rival Rafa Nadal in a humdinger of a match that went down to five sets. At the presentation ceremony, Federer, when he got on the podium to deliver the runner-up speech, broke down in tears. He couldn’t finish his sentences. “God, this is killing me,” he said.

Eight years later, they met again in the Australian Open final. I was in Punjab at the time, covering the 2017 assembly elections. I missed the first four sets, and when I realized the match was heading into the fifth, I told my driver to take me back to the hotel. Now that the election coverage turned out quite well and it is well into the past, I can afford to concede my thoughts at the time: elections aren't going anywhere, but once Federer walks into the sunset, he ain't coming back.

The decision to get back to the hotel was worth it. Down a break, Federer turned the knife and won four straight games to clinch the deciding set and lift the Australian Open for the fifth time. I'm pretty sure the entire hotel heard my heartbeats. Federer cried after hitting the cross court forehand to seal the title. And I cried with him.

In his retirement message, Federer wrote, “I've laughed, cried, felt joy and pain, and most of all I have felt incredibly alive.”

So have we.

Federer stood out in this world of alpha men, where toxic masculinity is fashionable and being obnoxious is justified in the name of aggression. He was not afraid to show emotions. He was not uncomfortable crying in front of millions of people. He wore his heart comfortably on his sleeve.

I hope every kid grows up watching sports. And I hope they have a Roger Federer to grow up with. The game of tennis is special to many people for many reasons. But it is close to my heart because it gave me a man I could look up to.