I bet you look good in my DMs

The odds seem off

It usually switched back and forth between hoping I would lose a leg or at least a finger and the not-so-secretly held desire something awful would happen to my family. Sometimes, but that was rare, some of the messages suggested I might be better suited to do porn than play tennis and that was hard because it was unclear whether the people sending them were hateful or just honestly concerned for my career in show business.

These types of messages and comments became every athlete’s nutritionless breakfast, lunch and dinner once sports betting began its unprecedented path to triumph. It didn’t matter that you quit Twitter or took a pause from Instagram. Professional sports bettors would find you anywhere, TikTok and LinkedIn, MySpace and Facebook, and if they had to DM your third cousin who you hadn’t talked to in years to get their messaging out to you, they would that, too.

At the very start of this added element to my job description, I was shocked and hurt. How could someone do that to somebody else and why would they in the first place and what has happened to humanity? But after a while, I’ll be honest, it became routine to spend 30 minutes on deleting hateful comments and messages after matches - block, block, block, as Sloane Stephens famously said - just as much as it was routine to make a protein shake and stretch your muscles. It got easier when Instagram introduced a new feature where you could not only block one account but with a swift freeing click all the accounts associated with the same person. Comments that called for leprosy of all my limbs or the very simple yet effective DIE type disappeared in masses and it was easier to keep track.

strong messaging, dubious grammar - a perfect example of a sports betting DM

I enjoyed messages that showed creativity (like above mentioned proposal of an industry change), appreciated them even and I laughed at the funny ones. Those were the exception to the rule, however. The rule were messages full of spelling mistakes and questionable grammar and so they insulted me twice; once as a tennis player and then some as a writer. Probably more as a writer. Did they insult me as a human being? Well. Maybe at the beginning. But despite having vulnerable days at times, it takes a little more than name-calling from Oleg from Siberia. Or John from Missouri. Or Vlade from Niš. It’s mostly men who send these types of messages, but I don’t think we’re surprised by that fact, are we now?

A lot of people think athletes only get hateful comments when they lose. But the truth is, you can’t do it right when it comes to sports bettors. If you lose against the betting odds, you’re a worthless piece of garbage BUT if you dare to win against the betting odds, you also don’t deserve to live. You’re forever trapped in the body of a girl with daddy issues who long after he’s dead still tries to make him happy. The odds were never in her favour from the get-go. The game is rigged, the house always wins.

my face when people suggest an industry change

I understand sports betting and the people behind it, I really do. We are essentially the same. Just as much as I revel in victory and defeat, just as much as I thought a dual way of living, perpetually caught between triumph and disaster, is the ultimate thrill, so do they – except that they revel in another’s victory or defeat, not their own. The money that flows so flawlessly into your bank account in the aftermath is similar, prize and betting money just two peas in a pod, fraternal twins separated at birth. Why would you spend years and sweat and tears on education and training only to not find a job or rot in an office when all your financial problems could be solved in a single twist of fate?

Okay, I think I spot the flaw in my thought process here. Come to think of it, I did spend years and sweat and tears on education and training and what did sports bettors do save for send threatening messages to teenagers? That’s a good point. Maybe we aren’t the same after all. My text messages, for example, are always friendly. And if they aren’t, they at least come with impeccable spelling and grammar and I exclusively use heart, laughing and kissing emojis. None of the darker stuff.

the type of hateful comment i wish i would get

Until 2019, gambling on sports in New York was illegal and if you truly wanted to place a bet you had to drive to New Jersey. That kept things in check as going to New Jersey was and should be avoided at all costs. But in the meantime, New Yorkers do as much betting as everybody else AND they don’t have to go to New Jersey any longer to do it. Win/win?

There are a lot of scandals, some smaller, some bigger, around athletes and betting, especially in tennis. It’s easier to manipulate outcomes in an individual sport than it is in a team sport, but teams aren’t immune either. Wherever there’s money to be made people crawl out of holes to exploit it.

In my 16 years of playing professional tennis, I was never approached and asked to throw a match. Maybe I didn’t ooze enough criminal energy. But maybe, and that’s the likelier version, I started earning money fairly quickly in tennis by winning. Making money doing what you love is the quickest way to become immune to betting. Making money is the second quickest.

I don’t get hate messages of that intensity anymore. The occasional have you gained weight or why don’t you smile in pictures or why do you talk about men’s tennis like you know it stuff. But that’s just traditional sexism, nothing to write home about. In my dark moments, the ones I tell nobody about, I sometimes miss the time when I was important enough to elicit such acute hate that people would go through the incredibly annoying process of setting up multiple social media accounts to insult me more concentrated. But before I drift off into even darker territory, I remind myself that all I have to do is say something slightly critical about one of their favourite players and I’d be right back where I started.

Things that make me happy:

I have mentioned this podcast before, but I wanted to point out a specific episode that really made me happy. In one of the episodes The Ringer’s Press Box journalists talk about David Foster Wallace’s piece on Roger Federer and its impact on sports journalism. There are tidbits on how Foster Wallace used to work and how he apparently sent in all his edits by fax. It’s great stuff and with this newsletter’s name being Finite Jest I’d be amiss if I didn’t point it out to you. The David Foster Wallace part starts at minute 22:25 but the rest of the show is just as good.

Things that make me unhappy:

I talked about a book I’ve been reading in my last week’s newsletter: Waiting on Britney Spears by Jeff Weiss. I’m still shocked at what we did to her in the early 2000s and how we thought it was funny to mock a girl who was having a mental breakdown in front of millions and who gave us nothing but great dance moves and fabulous outfits. To snap out of it I got onto YouTube and checked out some of her most iconic award show moments. Britney’s I’m a Slave 4 U performance at the 2001 VMAs is yet to be topped.

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I hope you’re having a wonderful week devoid of hateful comments. May the Deutsche Bahn be punctual this week and don’t forget to have a slice of cake on Saturday! Read you all next week.

Yours truly, Andrea