A postcard

Bonjour fellow tennis fans, hello friends.

I hope you have all been enjoying the beginning stages of the French Open so far. Despite an alcohol restriction, the Philippe Chatrier crowd found a way to get drunk on Gael Monfils’ showmanship and heart and above all: fun. He finds fun in the sport he does professionally and it’s such a joy to witness particularly in an older player. With time, even the happiest cucumber finds a way to become a cynic in the ever-itself-repeating wheel of the tennis world. Just like Carlos Alcaraz, just like Jasmine Paolini, Gael reminds us that tennis might be an analogy of life, it might be a way to find sense in no-sense, but it is first and foremost capital letters FUN. We, former and current tennis players, can’t thank him enough for reminding us of that fact.

I’ve been thinking about men’s underwear in sports watching Corentin Moutet (and famously before that Rafael Nadal), asking myself: Is there comfortable sports underwear out there? And if so, why are male tennis players not allowed to wear it?

I have also had Jannik Sinner’s spectacular outfit on my mind. It is so gloriously chaotic that I couldn’t help but root for it. I want it to get more airtime and confuse us further. In a confusing world, low-stakes confusion is invaluable. From the green shirt that makes him look like a twelve-year-old boy who decided to dress himself for the first time before going to school to the inexplicable shorter rim of his hat - think pieces have been written about less.

an outfit for the ages! unclear what ages exactly, but ages nonetheless

But I’m rambling. I just wanted to send regards from an island not in France before heading out to Paris tomorrow and to remind you that my newsletters during majors - the actual, not-rambling-for-rambling-sakes ones - will be send out on Mondays. This Monday, I will write a proper analysis of what’s ahead in the tension-filled latter stages of the tournament and what to look for in the second-week pairings.

In the meantime, I hope you have as much appreciation for the top women as I have, who have advanced seamlessly so far like assassins in the dark, unnoticed and unbothered. In the format best-of-three, the first week at a Grand Slam tournament is so much more dangerous to overcome. A nightmare, a weak coffee, too much jam on your baguette for breakfast and the first set is gone as is the confidence you worked so hard to obtain, making way for panic. But the top women are top for a reason and they are headed for beautiful clashes in the second week I can’t wait to analyse.

Be bold and be brave over the weekend, because only the bold and brave survive the French Open (and those who have lungs like Blue Whales). This is valid for players and audience members alike.

See you all on Monday!

Yours truly, Andrea