Perseverance, Greatness & Roger Federer

I had a major epiphany a couple of weeks ago around 3:05 AM. It wasn’t what you might expect; I didn’t have any deep thoughts robbing me of my sleep, nor was I lying in bed contemplating the meaning of the universe. No, my circumstance was little less noble; I had woken up, wrapped myself in a couple blankets, and turned on the TV to watch Roger Federer play in Australia.

A little backstory for those unfamiliar with Roger: He was formerly the number one tennis player in the world, and in his prime, he made a very compelling case for the greatest tennis player of all time. He was an absolute juggernaut a couple of years ago, breaking records right and left as he made the outcome of every major tournament seem predictable. But then nature happened, and slowly his stranglehold of tennis dominance began to fade, as Federer’s athletic dominance started to decline, and younger players began to challenge him for dominance. Eventually a new star in the tennis world rose and wrested the top position in the world from Federer.

The incredible thing about this story though, is not the heights that Federer reached in his prime; it’s the way in which he has dealt with his aging. Professional tennis isn’t a sport meant for longevity, and Federer is well past the age when most players stop being able to compete. Roger shouldn’t be able to hold his own on the court, yet between every major tournament, he goes back to his practice courts and does a little tinkering. He comes up with a new move or trick or strategy, something just different enough that it might be able to allow him to win in a more energy-efficient way; just enough to give him a fighting shot at winning the tournament.

Cut back to me and my adventure at 3 AM. I, like a lot of the tennis world, held out hope that Federer would be able to turn back the clock and win one more major tournament. But he would face his toughest challenge, as he took on the current world number one in the semifinal. So I turned on the TV about 45 minutes after play started, and groaned aloud when I saw the score. Federer wasn’t just losing; he was getting hammered! He had fallen into an insurmountable hole, and the only thing left to determine was how big of a blow-out the match would end up being.

I nearly turned the TV off right then. Why waste my sleep if my hero was getting absolutely humiliated in front of the world? But I found myself riveted by the action on the screen. While I was watching, Federer hit some outrageously difficult shots and played tennis that can only be described as beautiful. I was instantly riveted. Logic said that Federer really wasn’t playing to win at that point—anybody familiar with the situation could have told you his loss was all but assured. Nobody falls that far behind the best player in the world in his prime and then comes back to win. But Federer sure could have fooled anybody; without a sense of panic or hopelessness, he simply raised his level of play and continued to fight on, ignoring the score.

Federer lost the match that day, but he re-defined greatness in my mind. And here’s where the parallel with life comes in. You see, nobody is perfect in this world. I’m not, and you’re not (no offense intended). I have lots of moments where I struggle with what seems to be an insurmountable difficulty. You know, those things we call bad habits, or character flaws, weaknesses, or what have you. And all too often, I fail at overcoming it. I lose a round. I eat the cookie, I sleep in too late, I keep quiet when I should’ve spoken up. And you know what? It hurts. I feel like a failure.

But what Federer taught me is that greatness isn’t only found in the successes in life. His play that day merits the term “great”—and he lost! Roger’s greatness came from the struggle, the effort, the intensity and the perseverance he showed. That’s greatness—to bounce back from difficulty and come back for another round. To lose and then to put in the time to get better and try again. Greatness means to tinker a little—to arm yourself with some new knowledge, technique, wisdom, or plan, and then head right back into the fray of overcoming weaknesses.

Heaven cannot be full of only perfect people; if so, there would only be one person there. What God expects of us is a real effort to change. The sacrifice performed by Jesus Christ takes care of all of the sins, mistakes, weaknesses, and shortcomings we have--he makes sure we win in the final score. Our part is simply to try. I’m reminded of a beautiful thought by an LDS leader, D. Todd Christofferson:

“It would mock the Savior’s suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross for us to expect that He should transform us into angelic beings with no real effort on our part. Rather, we seek His grace to complement and reward our most diligent efforts. Perhaps as much as praying for mercy, we should pray for time and opportunity to work and strive and overcome. Surely the Lord smiles upon one who desires to come to judgment worthily, who resolutely labors day by day to replace weakness with strength. Real repentance, real change may require repeated attempts, but there is something refining and holy in such striving.”   

Friends, if you ever feel like you’ve failed at life, remember Roger Federer. Remember that greatness isn’t always defined by the final score—it’s defined by the struggle during the game. No loss is permanent when you place yourself on the side of Jesus Christ. And one day, with divine help, you will succeed. Until that day comes, persevere. Fight on. Try, and then try again. And again.

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”

-Confucius