Andy Roddick

Unbelievable, brute, struggling, sheer, full-throated effort.

And not just that. Andy had retooled his whole game so it could deal with Federer. He completely rewrote his own approach -- not just a baseline pounder, but now someone who played with finesse, someone who used his mind constantly on the court.

And it worked. Federer is not flawless, or at least, he didn't play flawlessly last Sunday.

Andy surprised him by suckering him into baseline rallies with moon balls that threw off his rhythm. When he least expected it, there was Andy with a volley which he executed perfectly. Federer, the one with touch, the artist, looked like the slower, less strategic player. Federer was the one who repeatedly bailed himself out of trouble by serving one ace after another.

But then what happens? It turns out you not only have to develop your finesse, intelligence, subtlety, craftiness. In the end, the match became a slugfest. You ended up having to have held on to your slugfest abilities! The cruelest of cruel ironies.

Federer outlasted Andy physically. By the end, the American's face was gray with exhaustion and losing its look of grim resolve. He simply couldn't serve hard anymore, while Federer called on that weird reserve of energy he has for extreme, championship moments.

Andy looked ashen, beaten. He hadn't been outplayed -- just outlasted. But that brute fact must have been as painful as any. Who knew the Baryshnikov of tennis was also its muscle?