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by Pete Bodo
Good mornin', er, afternoon. . . I'm jamming again today; we just recorded a new podcast, covering mostly Davis Cup with a little bit of Roger Federer and Tiger Woods thrown in; the podcast will be live tomorrow at Tennis.com; feel free to check it out and comment.
I leave early tomorrow morning for the IMG Nick Bollettieri Tennis Academy, returning late Thursday night. I'll have a full report on my trip here at TennisWorld, so stay tuned for that in the coming days. Meanwhile, the WTA has been making a little news these past few days; the Justine Henin comeback story is heating up, and Amelie Mauresmo has retired. These stories may be related in an indirect sort of way, now that Kim Clijsters has made it safe for the women of this world to un-retire.
As I wrote when Kim declared her comeback, it's silly for a young, successful, healthy tennis player to use the verb, "to retire." What Clijsters did, without really knowing it, perhaps, is take a well-earned and probably much deserved break from the grind facing a top player. It's a way of life and a set of demands that precludes the person in question of leading what most people would call a "normal" life. And Champagne Kim Clijsters was, more than anything else, a grounded, mature, traditional, well-adjusted young lady - precisely the kind of woman who, having earned a place in history (along with mind-boggling wealth), might be expected to look at the demands and repetition built into her way of life and ask, Who needs it?
I think it's a good idea to appreciate just what a formidable combination that is: demands and repetition. It would be one thing if a top tennis player's job consisted of facing a radically different and fresh challenge as her career progressed through every twist and turn. But the real deal-breaker is the sameness of the challenges a player faces. Oh, sure, there's a world of difference between having to figure out and overcome a Maria Sharapova or a Serena Williams. Each player presents her own special set of problems. But that's the long and short of it. Take the individual nature of the players, and their games, out of the equation and you're facing an overpoweringly familiar and in some ways dull mission - a mission the may be better suited to a machine than a human being, unless that human being's avowed intention is to become that Grand Slam title machine.
Pete Sampras wanted to become that machine; he made a conscious decision and organized his life in a way that enabled him to become that machine. Roger Federer wanted to become that machine, although in his case he'd never think of it in those terms - for him, it seems, tennis is too much like. . . fun. The dream job. Ivan Lendl thrived, in his own perverse way, on being a machine; I think tennis itself was less fun for Lendl than was being a machine.
A player who doesn't experience his journey in tennis as a monotonous, self-punishing exercise (see "A" for Agassi, and perhaps even "G" for Agassi's wife, Steffi Graf) closer to scab-picking than physical liberation is well positioned for success. It's certainly been one of Federer's greatest psychological and emotional assets.Yet even Federer lately has shown signs of what I call metal (mettle?) fatigue. He tries to try, but sometimes it seems the fire and feeling simply aren't there; it's the cost of doing the same thing, over and over.
You may wonder why I segued to those two male champions, and it's because the men and women seem different in how they view the mechanical nature of what they do. Most men accept it, or reject it and settle for knocking around the world, having a good time. The WTA ladies are much more likely to rebel against the demands of their profession, a protest that has become a dominant theme on the women's tour. You have to go all the way back to Steffi Graf to find a player who happily wore the hair shirt for an entire, wildly successful career. It's as if top women suddenly figured out: Hey, there's no law saying I have to do this any longer than it's still fun. . .
On top of that, the call of domestic life generally seems more powerful in women in their 20s than in men of the same age; it's the same old story in tennis as in any other walk of life; Peter Pan is a powerful role model for men, the char-girl who gets whisked away by the prince - spirited away to an entirely new and different life - is a more vivid aspiration for most women.
!1276432 Amelie Mauresmo's case is interesting, and made more complicated, by the fact that she isn't a conventional young lady in the same way as Clijsters, Henin and a host of others. She's always seemed a jock, even if she's the type who bridles at the characterization and has made it clear that her view of the world transcends the landscape of tennis.
My first reaction to Mauresmo's decision was, Well, let's see where she is in 18 months. . . It isn't because I doubt that she's sick and tired of the grind; Godot knows she's alternately sleepwalked or staggered through theclosing stages of her career, showing serious mettle fatigue. Granted, she's 30 years old - the age at which a player of either gender is entitled to use the misused "R" word. And while Mauresmo has been surprisingly fragile, emotionally and mentally (at least on the tennis court), she's been blessed with a body magnificently designed for tennis, and plenty of lean power.
Hit the reset button (six or eight months completely away from the game ought to do it), infuse Mauresmo's spirit with a fresh love of and appreciation for the game, and you've got the makings of another Martina Navratilova - but one who, unlike Navratilova at 30, might look back upon her career and decide she's left some unfinished business. If she decides to bear a child, all bets are off. But otherwise, I can see Mauresmo coming to the conclusion that maybe tennis wasn't such a bad deal after all, and that she misses the adrenalin rush of match-point and the roar of the crowd. They all do; that's why so many players at every level have second thoughts about throwing in the career towel, and even some of the best ones don't really quit the game cold and move on to some fabulously gratifying and remunerative career unrelated to sports. The ones who really do leave it all behind - a Graf, a Sampras, a Borg - tend to be those who had left no unfinished business.
I've always found Mauresmo exasperating, in the same was as other players (think Marat Safin) in whom greatness is latent, but unable to make an appearance for any appreciable length of time. It's not an impossible task, you know, so this criticism is harsh only insofar as it implies that this former no. 1 and multiple Grand Slam titlist is somehow less than great. If Mauresmo wasn't great, what does that make Elena Dementieva, or Dinara Safina? In addition to applying my usual warning label to the analysis (Caution: It's all Relative!), I'll add a potentially more useful if personal definition of the word "great."
Great is the ability to play up to the best that's in you, consistently.
Mauresmo reminded me of Hana Mandlikova, another puzzling multiple Grand Slam titlist. For periods, Hana, like Amelie, played tennis that was not only overpowering, but also creative and bold. But the ease with which the wheels fell off was equally irritating. Watching Mauresmo play was a little like reading a terrific chapter book, only to have the author suddenly slinging cliches or absurd plot twists. Or listening to a singer with a lovely voice unexpectedly go off key. The breakdown tends to ruin all the good stuff that came before.
I appreciate Mauresmo's game, especially that one-handed backhand. But I prefer to watch a player who's going to play closer to her best game on a consistent basis, even if that best game can't hold a candle to Mauresmo's at its finest. And those are precisely the kinds of players who give the Mauresmos of this world fits. This isn't a matter of aesthetics, but something much more valuable to an athlete: consistency.
That's the true path to greatness, and whether or not you actually get to the final destination has nothing to do with it. Consistency is a talent unto itself, and one that Mauresmo didn't have. It's another good reason for her consider taking a nice long break to think things over, ask her self a few questions, and maybe give it one more shot before she calls it quits for good. In this case, I have to believe the flesh will be willing, even if the spirit is, well, undecided.