I got up at 6 yesterday morning, just in time to see the third-set tie-break and the presentation of the trophies.
The beauty of watching Federer at the top of his game is that you get not only to see great shots but - when the match is over and the microphone in place - to hear good lines. All tournament long he'd been brilliant and loose, coming up with responses - to both opponents and interviewers - that defied probability. He repeatedly rose above the relentless bludgeoning (to use McEnroe's term) of modern tennis and the deadening cliches of modern athletes. He was as deft with his quips as he was with his drop shots.
Yesterday, in accepting his trophy, he became the first player in ages to describe his emotions with the words "over the moon."
It was especially gratifying to hear remembering that, after last year's final, he seemed to be on the downward slope, replaced by the indefatigable and barely intelligible Rafael Nadal. This year's Open was a victory for athletic and linguistic grace.
