Day 15: Star-Written

Reuters

His eyes were on the prize. The day after his nemesis and arch-rival was hit off the court by his final opponent, Roger Federer was five points from defeat against Tommy Haas in the fourth round when his forehand saved his Paris life.

The draw opened for him like the Moses-parted Red Sea. With Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray following Rafael Nadal to the sidelines, the tournament was his to lose.

On paper, his draw looked like a cakewalk. Despite the headcases in his path, it was anything but. Four times he rallied from behind, once from two sets to love down, once from two sets to one down. It was the most difficult row he's ever had to hoe at a Grand Slam.

Until the final where it was All About Raja.


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I wasn't sure what was going on with Robin Söderling (blisters? nerves? deference? all of the above?) until he gave his speech in the trophy ceremony. He told Raja and the world that Raja was the greatest player in tennis history and he deserved to win this title. No wonder why he couldn't keep a ball in the court and refused to go for his big serves consistently. Still, his march to the final was unexpected, other-worldly, and wonderful to see.


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For Raja's part, his serve was clicking, his forehand on fire, his footwork impeccable, his recently unleashed drop shot untouchable. Much easier to pull off when Rafa's not on the other side of the net in a Paris final.

I, for one, never wrote off Raja as did his adoring and worshiping fans. Never thought he had gone anywhere. 20 consecutive Slam semifinals and 5 consecutive Slam finals betrays such hysteria. I did wonder how he would deal with his humiliating defeat here last year and his crushing defeat in his grass-covered garden. Wondered if he would recover from such shifting fortunes and go the way of, say, Björn Borg who sat in the stands today watching history unfold. How would Raja deal?

This is how.

He would not be denied. Champions seize their opportunities. I will always consider him the luckiest multi-Slam champion I've ever witnessed, but luck means nothing if you can't cash it in. He had to dig deep to get through the draw, and for all that digging, he receives my admiration and respect, even though he didn't have to beat his greatest rival in the anticlimactic final.


Reuters

It rained on his bi-lingual trophy reception parade, but that didn't matter. The adoring crowd that had chanted Robin! Robin! Robin! last week and Raja! Raja! Raja! this week made it clear they would stand in lightning to see their guy get that last piece of everything: the elusive French Open to go along with a beautiful, devoted wife with a bun in the oven, a record-tying 14 Slam titles, and the bestowing of that four-word title I refuse to endorse one way or the other because I simply don't believe in such things.

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And to think, he received the Coupe des Mousquetaires from Andre Agassi exactly 10 years after the American completed the career Grand Slam when most everyone had written him off.


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For Raja, who fixed his eyes on the prize, this was truly written in the stars.