Federer sets himself apart from all

NEW YORK -- The Donald was in the house, but The Roger was the show.

On a night of celebrities Wednesday at the U.S. Open, with appearances from the likes of Jerry Seinfeld, Martha Stewart, David Duchovny and Trump -- even Andre Agassi in the broadcast booth -- there was no bigger star than the biggest star in tennis, Roger Federer.

He is ranked No. 1, and that doesn’t quite capture the gap between him and the rest of male humanity, especially on any court surface that isn’t clay.

He beat the home-country’s hope, Andy Roddick, in straight sets, 7-6 (5), 7-6 (4), 6-2. It was a quarterfinal match that should have been a final, like it was last year, when the same outcome took place.

Roddick has played Federer 15 times and won once. Someday, he will be able to brag about that to his grandchildren. Roddick was superb Wednesday night. He gave it his all. On this night, he would have beaten anybody else born on this planet. Unfortunately, he was playing Federer.

Roddick didn’t face a break point until 1 hour 54 minutes into the match, in the third set. He hit huge serves and got his first one in 71% of the time.

But it didn’t matter. Never does. He has one flaw in his game. It is his birthday. It occurred in the same era as Federer’s.

“I played well,” Roddick said. “I don’t know that I can play any better. I am not walking off with any questions in my head this time. I’m not walking off with my head down. . . .

“Yeah, he’s great.”

The sellout crowd of 23,723 that came to Arthur Ashe Stadium to see, left believing. Federer is like nothing else in tennis, maybe sports. At midnight, on a weeknight, most of them were still in their seats.

Federer is a site to behold, an international sports treasurer. No matter how hard Roddick hit, Federer hit harder, or steered it better. No matter how smart, Federer was smarter. Strategy doesn’t work against him. Poison might be the only option.

As well as he played, they needed to spot Roddick two sets and give him a bullwhip.

Federer came dressed in a black shirt and black socks. Those matched his black heart. When he is on the tennis court, there is no blood in it, just assassin’s fluid.

If the rest of the tour had its way, he’d be declared illegal.

He glides from side to side and always seem to be in the right place, ready for the right shot. Other players use rackets. Federer has a magic wand.

Roddick’s serves, many of them at, or above, 140 miles an hour, hit the service box and explode.

Federer’s serve, most of them in the low 120s, nick the lines and scamper away.

What works best?

The huge-serving Roddick had 14 aces. Federer had 15.

Roddick did everything but turn inside out. At set point of the first set, he even reached out to his home crowd in the massive cement canyon that has become the site of so much nighttime tennis drama on so many warm September nights.

Federer was serving at 6-5 of a tiebreaker. Roddick had just saved the first set point with a scrambling approach and backhand overhead. The home crowd was wild, the importance of the moment not lost on them.

And Roddick asked them for more, gesturing that they should get on their feet, yell, give him their adrenaline. Even more, let Federer know whose house he was in.

Federer paused before he served. Then, like a man responding with an index finger to his lips, he cranked a 122-mph ace down the middle.

Point, set, silence.

Since this was only a quarterfinal match, that meant good news for the New York fans. They get two more looks at Federer. It also meant bad news for the other men left in the draw. The fans get two more looks at Federer.

Federer praised Roddick, praised his effort, called it “high-level tennis.”

“There was nothing I could do on his serve for 2 1/2 sets,” he said.

There was another moment that was further revealing. Early in the first set, Roddick took one of Federer’s second serves that kicked up a little, stepped around to his big forehand and smashed it back as hard as anybody will ever return a serve. It was hit perfectly, at Federer’s feet, on the baseline. But like a ballet dancer, Federer stepped to the side and flicked a forehand winner to the part of the court Roddick had left wide open.

He has the hands, eyes and reflexes of a superhuman.

And neither Roddick nor anybody else in tennis these days has any Kryptonite.

Bill Dwyre can be reached at bill.dwyre@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Dwyre, go to latimes.com/dwyre.