Rant: Roger Federer is a big, fat poopyhead (more or less)

(Warning:  The following is a long hateful rant.  If you don’t understand sports, and will think that I’m some sort of ill-spirited right-wing hatemonger because I go off the rails about something in sports, please don’t read.  If you understand that sports makes you do crazy things, and feel irrationally angry at people you’ve never met, and you hate that one guy who robbed your favorite team in their only playoff appearance in a decade from moving forward more than you love your parents, then hopefully you’ll understand)

This isn’t strictly about TV as this blog normally is; but hear me out.  It’s something I simply needed to get off my chest.  My friend wrote a long screed about his absolute and undying hatred of Lebron James after the Miami Heat won the NBA Finals, and I enjoyed his rantings and completely agreed.  However, while I am no fan of Lebron, I did not feel my friend’s inspiration until I realized that I had my own athlete who personally motivated me to rant and rave without reason or logic, while watching yesterday’s men’s Wimbledon final.

I fucking despise Roger Federer.  (note: I’m sure deep down he’s a very nice and good person and if I ever had to shake his hand and went to dinner with him I’d realize this, he’s an ambassador for the game, blah, blah, no I don’t actually think he killed babies or raped anyone.  This is my last consolation in this article to sense or reason.  Now, I can proceed with the unadulterated hate).  No one engenders as much pure bile deep within my soul.  Yes, part of my hatred is due to my complete and total love for Federer’s primary rival Rafael Nadal, and one day, hopefully after Nadal wins another major, I’ll write a more positive ode to him.  But that rivalry just the start of hate; it’s become, overt time so much more – I’ll root against Roger Federer against anybody anytime and any place.

The thought of him winning more major titles makes me physically ill.  I hate every thing about him.  I hate the uber-preppy way he dresses.  I hate his fucking headband.  I hate his false humility; the way he pretends to be humble and every journalist and commentator has to talk about how humble he is even though he’s not humble at all.  In fact, his fucking false humility is far more infuriating than if he’d at least be honest and just talk about how great he thinks he is; at least honest arrogance Chad Ochocinco or Kanye style can be compelling.  He’s so smug.  It comes out in his smile, and his little chuckle, which just scream how pleased he is with himself.

I hate that while Rafa Nadal, my favorite, looks like he’s working up a sweat and burning through hundreds of calories in a single point, it looks like Fed’s not even trying.  I hate that while Nadal has to contend with constant knee injuries, Federer never even gets a scratch, and then journalists have the audacity to add extra credit to Fed’s record because he had the good fortune of having a healthy body.  I hate that the one time Fed was under the weather it was of all things fucking mono, and of course, he didn’t use it as an excuse, but the blathering press corp was there to use it as an excuse for him, even while still crediting him for not getting hurt the rest of the time.  In fact, even more so, Fed took credit for having made it so far in the Australian Open with mono, talking about doctors wouldn’t have let him play; another wonderful example of his world-famous false humility.

You know what I hate?  I hate his fucking hat.  There is no way someone wearing this hat can not be a douchebag.  If someone was in a soup kitchen handing out soup to needy families while innoculating impoverished kids from infectious diseases while wearing this hat, that person would still be a fucking douchebag.  If I saw someone wearing this hat, I would rip it off  his or her head, and then hit him or her with it, and then burn it with matches I carry for that single purpose alone.  I hate that every fucking celebrity comes to sit in Roger’s box.  I hate that he’s home in every fucking tennis arena in every fucking country, that fans root for him no matter what, even though I don’t understand what he did to be the hometown hero from China to France to California.  Anna Wintour roots for him and throws him parties.  Tiger Woods, of course, roots for Federer.  They chat. Gavin Rosdale and Gwen Stefani are friends.  Will Ferrell’s another buddy.  Will Smith roots for Federer.  Smith gave Federer a Men in Black suit for some reason.  Why?  Who the fuck knows?  I hate that no one in his box seems to show any emotion, like they’re all cool and collected because that’s Roger’s rules; winning is merely so expected that there’s nothing to get excited about.

I hate how Roger opposes instant replay.  I hate how he keeps telling Novak Djokovic’s box full of his family members to shut up because he can’t deal with a little noise.  I hate how he opposes a shortening of the ATP schedule which might help a lot of players because he never gets hurt and goes and attacks Nadal and others for complaining about it, because he has the brilliant aptitude to never get injured.  While Nadal and others talk about starting a union, Federer toes the company line.  He’s anti-fucking union.  There are even political reasons to hate R-Fed.  Who sides with the fucking tournaments over the players?

I hate the Gillette commercials that he does.  He does them with other hated athletes of mine, such as Tiger Woods and Derek Jeter (Thierry Henry is a Red Bull, so I don’t him, but still).  In the last scene of this particular commercial the three athletes pelt a poor dude who is shaving with a series of balls from their respective sports, and then laugh about it.  FUCKING HILARIOUS.  He could have cut himself!  He’s using a fucking razor!  I’m not the only one who hated the ad; industry mag Campaign named it the worst ad of the year.

He owns a place in DUBAI, ground zero for hyper-rich assholes.  He doesn’t just own it, it’s his second home.  Who wants to live in Dubai?  Sure, it may be progressive by the standards of some of the regimes in the region, but homosexuality is illegal there, and people actually get jail time for it.  Extramarital sex is illegal and punishable with jail time!  Federer lives and spends months of his year there.

You know what I hate?  When he plays the U.S. Open he has his own fucking special Roger Federer suite at The Carlyle.  The FUCKING CARLYLE.  He stays there once a year, when he plays the U.S. Open but he still has his own suite named after him.  You know what that suite has besides every luxury you could possibly think of and then some?  MONOGRAMMED PILLOWS.  Roger Federer can not sleep on pillows WITHOUT HIS INITIALS ON THEM for TWO WEEKS.  You know – I don’t even think they’re pillowcases.  I think they probably throw out the fucking pillows every day and give him new ones with his initials.  I hate that there’s a plaque on the door to his suite that says how many grand slams he’s won, as if he needs to be reminded of this every time he walks in, or any visitor would be remiss if he or she didn’t know.  Real classy, Roger.  The Observer article with pictures of the suite says he prefers the second bedroom to the master bedroom.  WHY DOES HE HAVE THE MASTER BEDROOM THEN.  Remind by the way, before we forget, that they keep MONOGRAMMED PILLOWS all year long for him so only he can use them during two weeks of the US Open.

Just to go full circle here, nothing shows Federer’s false humility better than this tone-deaf Netjets commercial showing how rough Roger has it as a poor do-it-yourself kind of guy, declining help while he tugs a wagon filled with all his trophies to his private jet.  What would be more humble and relatable?  Nothing has given me more pleasure in recent years than watching this commercial air after Federer is out of a tournament.  If you come away with nothing else, this of this commercial as an example of exactly the type of person Roger Federer is.

I was hoping this would help me excise the demons so I can at least avoid tennis until the US Open and stop thinking about my hatred, but it turns out after writing this, I just feel even stronger.  A sign of true hate, I suppose.