1. The people’s king

It’s a beautiful day in paradise. The sun is shining and a light breeze is blowing through the mountains of Gstaad, making the summer heat bearable. It’s the 23rd of July 2013, and the resort town is looking forward to seeing Federer play. The global star hasn’t been here for nine years. But in his desperate search for match practice, he’s stopping in the Bernese Oberland. They’re so delighted that they’ve given him a cow again – as they had done in 2003, after his first Wimbledon victory. But when I happen to see Federer warming up on the courts of the Gstaad Palace a few hours before his match, I feel a pang of foreboding. I see nothing of the legendary elegance and ease, he seems stiff, robotic. His back is clearly still bothering him. Is it really a good idea to face the German Daniel Brands? No, it isn’t, as we learn a few hours later. Federer plays like a poor ­imitation of himself, seems restrained and soon resigned. After 65 minutes and a 3-6, 4-6 finish he leaves the court with his head bowed.

These are agonising months for Federer. Defending his title in Wimbledon, he fails against Ukrainian unknown Sergiy Stakhovsky in the second round. Throughout 2013, his chronic back issues resurface again and again. After his embarrassing performance in front of the eager home crowds in Gstaad, he’s unlikely to be keen to talk about his feelings. But of course he appears at the obligatory press conference and faces the excruciating questions − and there are quite a few. No one could blame him for keeping it short, but he takes questions for half an hour, even though he himself doesn’t know what will become of him and his back. And then he even takes the time for a chat with the son of former Swiss pro Claudio Mezzadri and the others who have eagerly waited to meet him for the first time. He swallows his frustrations at an uncooperative body, empathising with those who were so excited to see him. Having disappointed them on the court, he takes all the more time for them off-court. He probably wants nothing more than to leave and take care of himself rather than others. This side story speaks volumes about him.

I could have begun this portrait with descriptions of Federer’s magnificent victories. But it’s easy for victors to shine. A person’s true character only reveals itself in difficult moments. Like that day in the Bernese Oberland, at a low point in his career. Federer has often read the two lines from Rudyard Kipling’s “If” inscribed above the entrance to Wimbledon’s Centre Court. He knows them by heart:

“If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same”

The poem ends on the words:

“Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!”

Kipling’s 1910 poem was directed at his son John, who would later die whilst serving in the First World War. To this day, it’s one of the most popular poems in Britain. Federer embodies the spirit of Kipling’s lines. At the very least of those above. For all his wins and titles and his rockstar life, the subject of constant admiration, he has stayed humble. And he refuses to be discouraged by defeats and setbacks.

Federer learned a lot at home, and not just in sporting terms. But the man from rural Basel also rose to the challenge of a life in the limelight and his role as a central figure in the global circus of professional sports. He realised early on that as a beloved player, he is no longer his own man, and that he carries a responsibility towards others. And he bears it, all the while staying true to himself. Whether he wants to or not, Federer shapes other people’s lives. Their admiration for him at times borders on the religious. His most loyal fans invest all their holiday days to fly around the world to see him and spend hours making Federer memorabilia, finding inspiration for their own lives in his.

The tradition of the red envelope is by now legendary, reaching back to 2003 when he first won at Wimbledon. Since then, the core group of fans hands him an envelope of good luck notes before each Grand Slam tournament as well as before many other tournaments. For his supporters, the greatest privilege is to be chosen as the courier to hand over the hundred or so messages during pre-tournament training.

To really feel the pulse of the tennis world, you should pitch up a tent in Wimbledon Park in July, during the “All England Championships”, stay overnight and try to secure tickets.

And then chat to your neighbours about Federer to pass the time. You quickly notice: not everyone with a Swiss flag stuck to their tent, a Swiss cross t-shirt or a baseball cap with “RF” on it is Swiss. The Federer-aficionados come from Calcutta, Shanghai, Melbourne, Dubai, Tennessee, and of course also Basel and London, from every corner of the world. Everyone can tell you the moment they “clicked”. There is surely no other athlete who has inspired such an urge to share in his fans, nor so many books in which the authors ponder what the tennis virtuoso has triggered in them.

Whilst sports are usually dismissed as uncool in cultural circles, here, too, Federer has captivated many. In an interview in 2017, German violinist Anne-Sophie Mutter told the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung: “I can’t understand how you could be a fan of any other living tennis player once you have seen Federer. You can’t help but fall for that beauty, that elegance, that wonderfully poetic style of play.” She spoke of how she had arranged her 2014 concerts in Australia so as to be able to see Federer play the final at the Australian Open in Melbourne. Too bad he lost to ­Nadal in the semi-final.

The five-time World Sportsman of the Year’s appeal may be global, but he is decidedly Swiss. According to Torsten Tomczak, Professor of Marketing at the renowned University of St. Gallen, studies on “Swissness” repeatedly turn out characteristics which Federer embodies. Federer stands for the values of both a modern and a traditional Switzerland: he’s cosmopolitan, but down-to-earth, hard-working, creative, ambitious, a family man, friendly, but firm, reliable and suitably modest. He doesn’t quite cultivate understatement like his rival Rafael Nadal, but also never crosses the line between confidence and arrogance. And, like Switzerland, he is neutral. Federer is the perfect diplomat, never publicly airing his views on sensitive issues. It’s a smart strategy at a time when journalists are hungrier than ever for a sensational headline to be shared a thousand times over social media.

There’s probably no other athlete who’s been interviewed as often as Federer. There have been over 1,400 post-match press conferences alone. Under that kind of scrutiny, there’s no hiding for long. His consistency was underlined by a survey conducted by the American Repu­tation Institute in 2011. Fifty thousand people were asked to rank 54 public personalities from politics, culture, business and sports on the degree to which they are liked, admired, respected and trusted. Federer came in second, just behind the now deceased Nobel Peace Prize winner Nelson Mandela, but ahead of figures like the Dalai Lama, Barack Obama and Bill Gates. In 2017, he was also awarded an honorary PhD from the Medical Faculty of the University of Basel for promoting the reputations of both Basel and Switzerland across the world, for his presence as a sporting role model, and for his involvement in his foundation’s work with children in South Africa.

What’s most astounding is how much his competitors like him, even though he almost always beats them. From 2004 to 2017 he won the Stefan Edberg Sportsmanship Award for fairness and integrity 13 times − on election by his fellow players. It was snatched away just once in that period, by Nadal, in 2010. This annual award should also be seen as the other tennis stars’ thanks for changing the atmos­phere of the professional tennis circuit for good. Whilst the former number ones like Pete Sampras or Andre Agassi tended to make themselves scarce and goad the competition, Federer mingles with everyone – no matter how old or young, good or bad they are. Perhaps a mark of his Swiss upbringing. Although he’s often called a (tennis) king, he’s a king of the people − in the changing room or players’ lounge, he’s stayed just one of the guys, unreserved and always up for a joke. His straightforwardness has relaxed the atmosphere on the men’s tour: “I always found it best to be nice to the new generation of players rather than making them feel it would be hell for them here,” Federer once said. “I think that rubbed off on Nadal and the other players. Of course tennis is a tough sport, but it’s still a sport. There are more important things in life.”

His friendly, personable attitude, however, doesn’t mean he tries to please everyone. He has always gone his own way and taken hard decisions when he felt they were necessary. Like the decision to part from several coaches, not to participate in the Davis Cup or to withdraw from the whole clay court season twice. And on the court he certainly knows no mercy. One of those who has suffered the most at his hand in sporting terms is Andy Roddick. They have faced each other in eight Grand Slam tournaments, and Federer won eight times – four of those in the final. ­After the Wimbledon final in 2005, Roddick turned to Federer and put it in a nutshell: “I'd love to hate you, but you're really nice.”