The first tennis match I watched, was the 2006 Wimbledon final between you and Nadal. I was instantly captivated by the grace you brought into the game, by your flawless forehand serves, by how beautifully you defended the title.
Cut to the 2008 final, I cried with you when you lost. Because, it just didn’t seem a possibility to me.
Four summers later, people began to write you off. They began to put you on the back burner. But you came back stronger, you showed them that age, is just a number. You made the world run short of superlatives when you clinched your 20th grandslam this year, at 36.
I want to write about you, but words fail me. My dictionary, is empty. Because, there’d be nothing new in anything that I’d inscribe that the world already hasn’t.
You know the kind of joy that envelops the heart?
The kind that makes one want to fly high into the sky?
I find that everytime I see you win.
You give us reason to believe. To stay undaunted. To keep going. You prove time and again, that pitfalls don’t deter a persevering heart, that, it’s okay to be fallible, to be vulnerable, to be human.
Immortals like you, can never be written off. Because, you write history. The kind that’ll be preserved for inspiration and pride.
Tennis, to me, will always be only about watching you play.
Happy birthday, legend,