Magic mountains and comebacks

Did distance make your heart grow fonder?

Hello and happy new year from Sydney, fellow tennis lovers!

I’m sure you have missed me (search your heart) but not nearly as much as I have missed you and writing this silly little letter to strangers every week on Fridays. I am happy to report that my literary endeavours have gone fairly well and only one chapter remains to be written. Which essentially means, I will rewrite my novel approximately five more times. But that’s for another day.

I have traveled half a world away to Australia to welcome yet another new year and yet another new season. People back home in Germany were so excited for me to be in Sydney on new year’s eve and all I did was fall asleep at precisely 9:18 pm. I put shame on my house but I am rapidly approaching 40 and a midlife crisis so technically anything goes from here.

the day i fell asleep at 9 pm, the sky was grey and sad

Look at me, blabbering away as if I mattered - spoken like a true tennis player.

Speaking of tennis players, I have talked to a few of them already today. Casper Ruud is about to be a dad and has changed his racquet frame, Triple Z (Zhang Zhizhen) is trying to be more positive this coming season and his skin is flawless (forgot to ask the hard-hitting questions about skin care routines though) and I had a great chat with Alex de Minaur who was extremely interesting and well-spoken. I will be able to interview some of the female players tomorrow and I am looking forward to hearing what they have to say about their off-season and their plans for 2026.

It’s a fascinating time of year, these early stages of a season, when everyone still strongly and whole-heartedly believes that this year will be their best. Up until the very end, until I was 35 and old and decrepit, I still believed down to my very core that this season right here in front of me was going to be the best one yet. It wasn’t - but nothing shines brighter in one’s mind than trophies not yet won.

The tennis down-under is usually some of the best all year once the rust of the first few matches has been shaken off. The players are somewhat rested, moderately optimistic and definitely hopeful. They have worked on their game, have adjusted gear, head and technique and are ready to roll.

One thing that is unique to the Australian part of the season is how front and center our beloved sport of tennis is during this particular time. Most other sports that Australians usually love and follow are resting and tennis fills the void and becomes the main event. For a niche sport (let’s not kid ourselves), a welcome change and the players enjoy every minute of it. Luckily for us, it shows on court.

But I won’t bore you any longer. It’s good to be back and it’s good to have tennis back. In my desperation, I even accidentally tried padel once (some of my friends made me) and it’s fair to say we are friends no longer. I am just joking, of course. Padel is not important enough to rupture a friendship over.

For tennis, however, I’d think about it.

There are many stories that hit the news while I was away. Two (Juan) Carlos’ became one, the Battle of Perplexes Everyone, Jack Draper’s left arm is still only aesthetically sufficient. But do not despair, your most unserious source for professional tennis is back: Yours truly.

unserious and unprofessional but also stubborn

Things that make me happy:

On my most recent flight from Frankfurt to Sydney, a nice and short little affair of 22 hours, I started reading The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. An obvious epic of German literature that I had avoided until now. I was ready to hate it, ready to find it inaccessible and pretentious but it is anything but. So well written, so smart and interesting and absorbing. Classics are classics for a reason and when people try to gift me contemporary literature I sometimes like to say: Give it twenty years before I know it’s good. The Magic Mountain takes place in a sanatorium in the Swiss Alps and everyone there is a little bit crazy, so basically it’s a covert report of a tennis’ locker room.

climb my magic mountain, baby, if you dare

Things that make me unhappy:

It’s not all high-brow leitmotifs by Thomas Mann over here at Finite Jest. I’ve been also watching Emily in Paris on Netflix as one does around Christmas time. It’s not good, let’s get that out of the way quickly, but it was one scene in particular that drove me insane. One of the characters is putting $200 Augustinus Bader cream on her face while casually chatting with her lover boy. Lover boy then proceeds to pull her into the shower to do lover boy things to her. Shocking scenes! It’s not that I’m a prude. It’s just that no man on this planet (and beyond) is worth wasting Augustinus Bader cream for. There’s a new year’s resolution for you.

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May you have the wit of a Brit that’s avoiding talking about their feelings at your full disposal this week! And the conversation skills of a cab driver.

Yours truly, Andrea