Contemplations on greatness

This is an assassination attempt

I was a good tennis player. At times, I was a very good tennis player. But I was never great. I was never a great.

Let me explain. This is not a fishing for compliments type of situation, not at all. I’m very realistic about what I could and couldn’t do in tennis and I made my peace with it. It is rather an assassination attempt on those greatness demons. An exorcism if you will.

Every tennis player that decides to try their luck on tour, that shows promise early on, has one goal and one goal only: become the best tennis player the world has ever seen. I always hated journalists’ questions about my goals for the season because secretly I always thought: isn’t it obvious? I want to win Grand Slam tournaments and be the number one player in the world! We all do.

I never reached either of those holy grails of tennis. It hasn’t rendered me bitter or unhappy but it has caused regrets at times, questions whether I had given it all that I could.

Maybe I could have moved on quicker if I hadn’t stupidly decided to retire at exactly the same time as Serena Williams, the greatest female tennis player to ever play the game. We both retired at the US Open and while Queen Latifah narrated Serena’s entrance into Arthur Ashe Stadium, all ads showed Serena’s face, a Broadway actor sang the U.S. national anthem with a bit more verve than usual, the stadium lights bright and glistening while the sun was setting behind the New York skyline, I was struggling to breathe on court 7. Trying to survive one more match before it was over. Before it was finally over. All the stress, all the pressure, the doubts, the longing and striving, the desire, the hope, the crushing of dreams over and over again - all gone.

At the same site but in parallel universes there were two women. One would never be forgotten as long as this sport was played. The other one was me.

It made me look back on my career and myself as a teenager - the girl with the big dreams - and eventually I settled on being happy with what I had achieved rather than with what I had not. It was a struggle and I had to force myself a bit but I managed.

I should have known a lot sooner that I wasn’t going to be great. Really, I should have known in 2004. Maria Sharapova won Wimbledon in 2004. She beat Serena in the final and instantly became the new star in an ever rapidly changing tennis sky. I watched the match on my tiny TV in my children’s room in the attic of my parents’ house, sweating in the summer heat of a room under the roof with no air-conditioning and felt conflicted. It made me unhappy seeing Maria win and back then I thought it was because I loved Serena so much but now I know that was not the whole picture. The real reason why it made me feel uneasy watching Maria win Wimbledon aged 17 was that I was 17, too. But while Maria triumphed in front of thousands of people on the most famous Centre Court in the world I hadn’t even gathered enough ranking points to qualify for qualifying. Now, every person has their own timing and just because she was winning right then didn’t mean I couldn’t at a later point in life - but it did make me think and for the first time doubt myself.

I played on tour for 16 years. I trained with the best and I played against the greats. I picked their brains and I watched them eat. I saw them take care of their bodies and minds, studied them meticulously, trying to mold myself after them. And the best thing about me never being great - and I really mean this - is that I now know what the difference is between being good and being great.

anti-hero? anti-champion!

It hurts me to say this but talent matters and talent differs. In a society which teaches us that anything is possible if you just want it badly enough and work at it as hard as you can I am the bearer of bad news, or as I, a German, like to call it REALISM, that it’s not true. I worked harder than anybody, watched hundreds and thousands of videos of my rivals playing, analysing their every move, their every stroke, but no matter what I did, there were always women around me who saw the ball earlier, who anticipated better and who used their bodies more efficiently. They saw openings and spaces on the court in real-time while I could only make them out later in bed, trying to fall asleep, going through all the errors I had committed before my inner eye. Talent. It exists and it differs.

The other thing that I never fully managed to accomplish was the clarity of thought in intense moments of pressure which the greats possess. Not clarity of thought but rather lack thereof. Lack of thought. When shit hits the fan, as my friend Rennae likes to say, the best in the world would simplify their thought processes to the barely minimum. Breathe. See ball, hit ball. Breathe. See ball, hit ball. Breathe. See ball, hit ball. They would trust their instincts, trust themselves.

My thought process under duress was more like: If I hit the ball there then it will come back here and then I have to take my racquet back quickly, QUICKLY I said, Andrea, is that quickly in your book, QUICKER, what a nice bird in the tree, BREATHE, Andrea, BREATHE, when was the last time I had pizza?

Not exactly a champion’s mind.

Ever the teacher’s pet I got better at it with meditation and training my mind and spirit and I did play well under pressure for the most parts but facing the best I always felt like I was lacking something. Something essential, like a word you’re about to remember but just can’t quite get. At times, it made me feel like counterfeit money but the really good kind where nobody can tell the difference.

The word talent has evolved with time. When we talked about talents we used to mean players who felt the ball - right? - who had a beautiful technique. The term has changed, ever so slightly but it has. Today, talent can mean so many things. How you handle pressure, how much (or how little) you get injured and how sustainable your style of play is. It includes adaptability and the capability for hard work over extended periods of time.

I was very good at focusing really hard for long stretches of play. That was my talent, I guess. So, in the rare case when the greats did have a slip-up, I was there and ready to pounce. It wasn’t enough to have the best tennis career of all time. Certainly not a Serena career, not even a Maria one. But it was enough to have a good career. And on good days, I would even say a great one.

Things that make me happy:

This is very simple this week. Being back in New York. I just love this god forsaken place with all the rotten things in it. The rats and the trash and those damn sirens. I love them all - never leave me.

a talent spotted in her natural laundromat

Things that make me unhappy:

Holger Rune going back to Patrick Mouratoglou. I’m sorry that this section is quickly becoming “everything ATP players have been up to this week” but seriously? You had Boris RIGHT THERE, Holger. RIGHT. THERE. I want to make myself very clear, I’m not saying Patrick is a bad coach, he might even be the right one for Holger. I’m just saying it’s Boris Becker, man.

See you all next week with rosy cheeks and some extra hope in your chest pocket!

Yours truly, Andrea