A voice of roger federer; When this happens, i usually never wish to exposse it but i willl today…
In a quiet corner of his sprawling garden, Roger Federer sat on a weathered stone bench, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the lush green lawn. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, their leaves shimmering like a sea of emerald. It was here, away from the stadium lights and roaring crowds, that Roger found solace.He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the distant echoes of his illustrious career. But today was different. Today, he was ready to share something he had kept hidden for years, a secret he had never spoken of, not even to his closest friends. As he looked at the horizon, he began to speak, his voice a soft murmur carried by the wind.“When this happens, I usually never wish to expose it,” he started, “but I will today. It’s something I have never shared with anyone, not even my family. It’s a part of me that lives in the silence between the matches, in the quiet moments after the cheers have faded.”He leaned back, letting the serenity of the garden envelop him. “When I was younger, before I became the Federer you know today, I struggled with doubts and fears. Everyone sees the victories, the trophies, the headlines, but there was a time when I was just another player, trying to find my way.”Roger’s eyes wandered to a small, unremarkable wooden box sitting beside him on the bench. He opened it gently, revealing a collection of old letters, each one neatly folded and tied with a ribbon. “These are the letters I wrote to myself during those early years,” he said, his fingers brushing over the faded paper.He picked up one of the letters, the paper crinkling softly. “I used to write these when I was on the brink of giving up, when the weight of failure seemed too heavy to bear. I would write about my dreams, my fears, and my hopes for the future. They were never meant to be read by anyone but me, but today I will share a part of one with you.”He unfolded the letter carefully and began to read aloud.“Dear Roger,” he began, his voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity, “I know it feels like the world is closing in on you right now. The losses sting, and the doubts creep in. But remember this: greatness is not about winning every time, but about rising every time you fall. Keep believing in your dreams, even when the path is unclear. The light will come, just hold on.”Roger paused, the words echoing in the tranquil air. “These letters were my way of talking to the younger me, to give myself strength when it was hard to find. They were my secret companion in the lonely moments of training, my confidant in the nights of despair.”He looked at the letters with a wistful smile. “I never meant for anyone to see them because they were private. But now, after all these years, I realize that sharing this part of me might help others who are struggling. It’s not just about tennis. It’s about finding the courage to keep going, even when everything feels lost.”Roger placed the letter back in the box and closed the lid gently. “So today, I share this with you not as a champion but as someone who has faced the same fears and doubts as anyone else. It’s a reminder that even in the spotlight, we all have our hidden battles.”He stood up from the bench and looked around at the garden, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of gold and pink. “I hope that by sharing this, I can help others find their own way through the darkness, just as I found mine.”As he walked back toward the house, the echoes of his past seemed to fade into the serene evening, replaced by the soft promise of hope and resilience. In the stillness of his garden, Roger Federer had finally revealed a part of himself that had been hidden for so long, and in doing so, he had opened a door for others to find their own light in the shadows.