Dso he sat. Didn't know where and how to start at first, wasn't happy with the words he found. Searched for better ones, discarded everything. Wrestled for two weeks Roger Federer with him in the summer, two weeks that took strength and hurt because he was remembering people and moments while writing. And because there was a burden on him, because he wanted to explain to the world what he himself hadn't known for very long.
In Wimbledon, at a performance to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the famous Center Court, he still thought: Will I play here again next year? Maybe. And he had remembered one of the worst hours of his career on that pitch, the quarterfinals twelve months earlier, in which he lost the last set against Hubert Hurkacz from Poland 0:6 and then knew it couldn't go on like this. As he walked into the press conference at the time, he worried about what to say if someone asked about the knee. The truth? But no one asked, and he thought: Am I such a good actor that nobody will notice I'm done?