And another one bites the dust. They are falling like flies, leaving us behind like they would a one-night stand they don’t remember the name of. Dominic Thiem is now officially retired. He leaves behind a grieving fan base, an unnatural amount of knowledge about wrist surgeries and like any great literary hero a tinge of tragedy. He has also leaves behind a great quote:
“I thought winning a Grand Slam would change my life forever. It didn’t.”
I have already written a piece on how we as tennis players make the mistake of thinking trophies will make us feel whole as people. You can read the full text here: You’re nothing but a number to me.
But Domi’s quote hits even harder because winning a major title was the one thing I hadn’t accomplished. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there was always the question of what if? What if I had won the US Open, maybe it would have changed something? Thiem’s quote was reposted by Coco Gauff. It clearly hit a note.
It’s easy for outsiders to romanticise being a tennis player. But the same is true for tennis players themselves. They romanticise it just as much. It’s a classic hero’s tale. You set out into a big, unknown world to conquer it, overcoming loss and betrayal, hurdles and monsters, and eventually you will triumph. Some are on the lookout for happiness, others want to be loved. There are players who are on a revenge quest like John Wick, wanting to prove all their doubters wrong (and maybe avenge a dog). And there are those who do it for the people they left behind. For their country or their family or, again, a dog. Being a tennis player becomes a narrative. Every loss brings you down a bit lower but only in order for you to rise higher than ever before. That’s why most athletes’ biographies leave a stale taste in my mouth. When I was a child I couldn’t get enough of them. As an adult, knowing life a bit better, they read false and trite. A life doesn’t end with a title at the US Open. A movie ends there, a book, but not life. It continues on and you have to wake up the next day and fill 12 hours of emptiness with meaning whether you have a big title or not. The 12 to 16 waking hours are always there. Until they aren’t anymore. And when that moment comes, you can only hope that you have a life well-lived to look back on. What that means in detail is up to you.
In these classic hero’s tales - The Odyssey, Lord of the Rings - what often gets forgotten is that the hero’s journey doesn’t end with the triumph. It doesn’t end with the slaying of the beast. It doesn’t end with the destroyed ring to rule them all. It ends with the hero returning home. Dominic Thiem has finally returned home. May it be peaceful and full of meaning.
It’s interesting how humans will always strive for more. It’s our super power and our fundamental weakness. It’s the one thing that still differentiates us from Artificial Intelligence. We reach beyond our potential and thus achieve inexplicable miracles. It’s what makes us build pyramids and paint the Sistine Chapel. On a lower level, it’s what makes us win US Opens. AI could never. But that desire to accomplish can at the same time deny us the satisfaction with things we already have.
Ambition can become a bottomless pit. Like candy that tastes great in the moment but doesn’t still the hunger or provide any nutrients. It’s up to us to add a pinch of meaning to the ever-churning wheel of desire. How about a walk in the woods or a good book? I heard The Odyssey is great.
Things that make me happy:
Speaking of a walk in the woods. Two days ago, I would have hoped for nothing more but some woods with a nice path and shade and water. What I got, however, was a mountain so daring as it was gravely, so high as it was hot - no map, no service, no water. And yet, we had friends and tears and a summit to climb. That’s what always makes me happy. We made it to the top and eventually, we returned home (to beer).
Things that make me unhappy:
I have this one rib that every now and then gets inflamed. It’s one near the top and when it happens it affects my whole upper body. My neck gets stiff, my chest heavy and my collar bone becomes a metal wench. The only way I can turn my head to the right is when I press with determination and blood-shot eyes on the most painful spot on my irritated rib. Ouch!
Although at times it may seem never-ending, the tennis season’s finish line is near. Only a few more weeks to go and then, finally, we can rest. And we shall! We shall rest. Before the wheel starts turning again. I hope this finds you well-fed and satisfied with what you have. Until then.
Yours truly, Andrea
Excellent writing Andrea! I do mourn Dominic’s retirement. I know that he will find other “Grand Slams” in his life that will definitely change his life. What a wonderful person he is!
Each mountain to climb is so different isn’t it?
May we all reach the top of many mountains! 🏔️❤️🙏🏼🫶🏽💪🏽
Another remarkable column. Your pieces are appointment reading for me to begin with, but this one really was breathtaking in putting the ambitions, then emptiness, into perspective.