The Absurdity of it All

Over twenty years ago in the late summer I was sitting in a rural field where a propeller plane was towing a glider plane off of the ground, taking it into the air and releasing it at the desired altitude, so the glider could float and soar on the thermals like a hawk for about 15 to 20 minutes before landing back in the field.  The venue was a glider plane club, and the glider plane pilots waited most of the day for their one turn to fly the club’s plane.  I thought, “Pick any any hobby, any pet, any instrument, any sport, …  anything….  and there will be fans who follow.”   

Fast forward to two weekends ago.  My Junior Tennis Star and I were driving into the venue of the Western and Southern Open in Cincinnati for the first time ever, and I was so very, very excited. Yet it was only after the tournament was over — after spending nearly 12 hours at the venue one day, after having filled the empty water bottle about 40 times, and after my Junior Tennis Star dutifully carried the mammoth tennis ball everywhere hunting autographs — I realized:  I am that fan and I love tennis.

One of the reasons why I love tennis is because, well, it is absurd at times.  I love that in a pro tennis match there are nine line umpires plus the chair umpire.  I love that those line judges hunker over during their time on the court with just one thing to do – to watch one line. 

I love that ball boys and girls scramble all over the court to scoop up the rejected balls because the pro saw a piece of felt out of place or a rubber tag along the seam (or whatever they look for when inspecting the balls).  I love that the ball boys and girls run in with a towel or supply a ball with a slight nod of the head.

I love that the ball girls and boys stand military-style with their arms behind their back during the play.  If you haven’t seen the video of the ball boy who hit his head on the back wall but bounced to attention so as not to distract the pro, here is the link.  It epitomizes the absurdity of it all.   

Think of it:  you have two players on the court, and you can have up to ten officials at any given time.  It’d be like my entire work group in my kitchen, staring at my Junior Tennis Star and me as we eat dinner.  She’d over-pour her glass of milk as she always does, splashing it on the counter, and someone would yell, “Fault!” That’d be weird.  But we accept it in tennis.

I also love the warm-ups, the five minutes before the match where each of the gladiators gently hit with, and directly to, each other.  There is no assertion of dominance in the warm up; instead, it is a time-honored routine that has been described as a “choreographed dance.”  David Foster Wallace, in his essay called “Roger Federer as Religious Experience” explained that “[t]here’s a very definite order and etiquette to these pro warm-ups, which is something that television has decided you’re not interested in seeing.”

Imagine Brady and Brees playing catch with each other before a rare Pats-Saints game.  That’d be weird.  But we accept it in tennis. But if none of this has persuaded you that there are parts to tennis that are absurd, you have fans like the couple pictured above who glued tennis balls on a hat just because they love tennis. 

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Alison Riske: True Grit

“True grit” means relying on persistence, determination and strength of spirit while steadfastly pursuing your goal in the face of obstacles.  We can apply the concept to goals we set for ourselves in life:  playing a musical instrument, starting a business, and, of course, playing tennis.  This weekend we saw true grit exemplified by our hometown darling, Alison Riske, in the Libema Open, a grass court tournament held this year at ‘s-Hertogenbosch in the Netherlands.  Riske won the championship by pulling off an exciting comeback against Holland’s own Kiki Bertens. 

Riske, ranked 61st, was bageled in the first set and down 4-1 in the second set, before she dug in and turned it around.  Riske reportedly said, “I had faith that things would turn around at some point, I just wasn’t sure when.  I thought maybe it was too late, even when I broke back to make it 4-3, but I stayed in there and I fought for every point.”  Yes she did. 

Bertens, ranked no. 4, came close to her third title of the season five times during the match.  Let me repeat:  Riske staved off five match points.  Throughout their meeting, Bertens came at Riske with her impressive, powerful serve, which left Riske staring at a two sequential aces whizzing by during the second set.  Riske was undaunted.  Alison Riske won the second set in a tie-breaker, and took the third to claim her second career WTA title with a final score of 0-6, 7-6(3), 7-5.  True grit. 

Alison Riske’s impressive championship title was well-deserved. Ali is our hometown darling and a true ambassador of the sport.  Every holiday season Riske trains on our local courts at the Upper St. Clair Tennis Development Program, and she graciously takes time from her workout for the junior tennis players, to hit with them, to take pictures with them, and to sign tennis balls for them.  We heartily congratulate her on her impressive, nail biting win and look forward to reporting on her future WTA championship victories!

Alison Riske with my Junior Tennis Star.
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There is No Such Thing as Perfect, in Tennis or in Life

While watching Naomi Osaka battle back against Victoria Azarenka in the second round at Roland Garros, I was struck not by her flair but by her flaws.  I had just spent the weekend at a junior tennis tournament where I would tsk and sigh when my Junior Tennis Star hit a ball out of bounds or into the net.  As Osaka clawed back the match, I began to pay attention.  No one, not even the pros, have a flawless performance.  I’ve touched on this before (see my February 10, 2019 post), but I could not let this perspective go as I continued to watch the French Open. 

The next match was the Federer-Wawrinka match.  Roger Federer is as close to perfect as you can come in my book, but he, too, had a battle against Stan Wawrinka, who for much of that match, despite his loss, was guided by the tennis gods.  So, I wanted to know:  in tennis, is there such thing as perfection?  In bowling there is the 300 game (and, apparently, it’s all about how quickly you can bowl the perfect game — 74.9 second on June 5, 2017), and in baseball there is the no hitter, but tennis? 

My research uncovered what is called the “golden set.”  I know your mind just went to R. Kelly, but focus here!  A golden set is a set which is won without losing a point.  This means 4 points in each game times 6 games, or 24 flawless points without conceding a point to your opponent.  That sounds easy enough, right?  It’s the same as carrying two cartons of eggs home from the grocery store without cracking an egg.  Or not checking FaceBook for a full day, or 24 hours.   

But in tennis, perfection is elusive.  In pro tennis, only three golden sets have occurred.  In 1943, Pauline Betz won the Tri-State tournament in Cincinnati, defeating Catherine Wolf which included a first golden set, and Bill Scanlon had a golden second set in his win over Marcos Hocevar at the 1983 Delray Beach WCT event.  More recently, Yaroslava Shvedova had a first golden set in her win over Sara Errani in the third round at Wimbledon in 2012.  Shevedova was unaware she made history with her flawless performance until she got back to the locker room.

The New York Times reporting of Shevedova’s performance, well worth the read, reminded me of a passage from one of my favorite novels, Brideshead Revisited, where Charles, at Sebastian’s urging, paints a landscape on the walls of the office at Brideshead:   “Here, in one of the smaller oval frames, I sketched a romantic landscape, and in the days that followed filled it out in colour, and by luck and the happy mood of the moment, made a success of it.  The brush seemed somehow to do what was wanted of it.  It was a landscape without figures, a summer scene of white cloud and blue distances, with an ivy-clad ruin in the foreground, rocks and waterfall affording a rugged introduction to the receding parkland behind.  I knew little of oil painting and learned its ways as I worked.”  If you have ever taken paint to paper or canvas and were pleased with the result, you would grasp this elevated, outer-body feeling of being guided by a larger force captured so perfectly by both Evelyn Waugh and the New York Times

But I say this for myself, especially, but also for you:  do not chase perfection because you will never catch it. Martina Navratilova, Roger Federer, Steffi Graf or Serena Williams never did. Stop worrying about your hair or the dust bunnies in your kitchen.  Don’t fret about your junior tennis star’s mis-hits into the net or wild wacks out of bounds because they will always occur.  Think, just think right now, what at this moment is making you happy and focus on it…   

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