Picket Fence Laureate: Clearly I’ve got too much time on my hands
The Mighty Fed gave a wide-eyed hop,
At last he arrived at the ultimate stop –
He played a fifth set without any fears,
To achieve 15 slams in 6 short years!
Under Pistol Pete’s expectant gaze,
The golden trophy was Roger’s to raise.
Yet we must not forget it wasn’t easy,
Federer’s year sure hasn’t been breezy.
The loss in Australia had left him in tears,
His fifth set against Rafa lacked extra gears.
A sore back then kept him out of play,
So he had no titles ’til he stepped on clay.
And who woulda thought he’d win in Spain?
With the country’s soil under Rafa’s reign.
They believed Fed’s game was in a rot,
But he had a new weapon – the droppa shot!
And with a straight sets win, his confidence soared
Roger headed to Paris for the next reward.
At Roland Garros, few gave him a chance
With Rafa still in his clay monster trance.
But the Yoker bludgeoned Rafa out,
The crowd cheered him on, it was quite a rout!
And Nole lost to Mister Techno
With a bagel, Murray too was Gonzo!
Only Federer survived close shaves,
Suddenly the naysayers were giving raves:
‘It’s grit! It’s passion! It’s heart!’ they said.
The same ones who thought the King was dead.
With balls of steel, Fed fought with History,
No one was going to deny him victory.
On finals day, rain threatened to fall,
Mirka’s preggers, but sat through it all!
6-1, 7-6, 6-4 was the score,
As Fed sank to his knees with a roar.
His serve had pop, his droppers were clever,
JMac claimed he was the greatest ever!
Meanwhile spare a thought for Rafa’s knees,
A smarter schedule next time, please?
The Wimby crown he could not defend,
But we moved on, the world did not end.
Suddenly Fed could be Number 1 again,
With history on the line, there was much to gain.
In London, the hype was Fed’s new jacket,
Who cares? Roger talked with his racquet.
Federer was back to his effortless grace,
(And let’s not forget the smiley monkey face!)
In the final, we thought he’d soar,
Surely! He’s done it five times before.
But Roddick played like he had nothing to lose
While at times, Fed looked like he had no clues
But with fifty aces, he worked his magic,
To lose another epic would’ve been tragic.
At last victory was Federer’s to savour,
His wife didn’t have to go into labour!
It seems like Roger had a date with fate,
Which makes me wonder: what makes him so great?
Many say his game is simply all class.
Monfils said it better: he’s just a pain in the ass!
With the bub and the Cup, Fed’s on cloud 9,
But remember, ‘there is no finish line’.
For my previous work of poetry and gaiety, clickey.
Images via Yahoo Eurosport UK & Ireland