•
Rating: What do you need to do to live the good life of a tennis player, travel the world, meet incredible women, earn a lot of money? Simple: hit the ball over the net one more time than your opponent.
So you start at the very bottom, and in no time you find yourself rallying with your father in the backyard court. You’re eight years old, with a mini Wilson racket and victory in your pocket. The cracks on the concrete make the bounce unpredictable, but who can stop you now?.
You’re 9 years old, the backyard court disgusts you, you ask your father to take you to play on clay, you want to be like your idols, you want to try sliding, touch a real net without holes and get to know the baseline lines.
A year has passed and you still haven't managed to beat your hero. Enough is enough, it's time to get serious.
4 N.C – 4.5
At eleven, you train twice a week with 3 other adventure buddies, the coach is 25 years old and you hate him. When he wants to act tough, he hits the ball with an exaggerated topspin and you can’t control the shot, worse than on the backyard court. You win the club's under-12 tournament by swinging your racket around wildly, and you feel like a god.
4.4 - 4.3
Time flies by, now you use the Radicals, and it's thanks to them that you beat your father for the first time. It was easy, you deflect, he plays such an old-school and consistent tennis. At your first rodeo outside the club, a sixteen-year-old unranked player beats you and you're pissed off for a week.
4.2- 4.1
High school has started but you don’t care, you’ve swapped your Head for a Babolat, now you like topspin, in fact, you’re fascinated by it. You look in the mirror and see a pimply teenager playing 4 times a week (plus the tournament on weekends). Determined to move up a category, you're grumpy, quick at the net but tell everyone you hate serve and volley because you want to wear down your opponent from the baseline.
3.5 -3.4
At sixteen, you've beaten your first opponent over 18. You hate Rodeos, they waste your time, you wake up in the morning to copy homework and then your head is elsewhere. You run ten kilometers three times a week, and in the evening you're in the gym.
3.3. -3.2
You swagger unbelievably when you beat your coach. You get assigned another one who comes to pick you up at home every afternoon. You have a pretty girlfriend who comes to see your matches but doesn’t understand why sometimes points increase by 15 and other times only by 10.
3.1
Recently, your violent temper on the court has worsened, at school you’re a delayed amoeba, you break rackets during tournaments, at home you only watch replays of the last Slam and curse when you think the other player is about to cheat you out of a point. You’ve broken up with your girlfriend because you couldn’t even rally with her. You have numerous inflammations and your right knee clearly has a problem.
2.8 -2.7
You got a warning during the final because you insulted your opponent's father and called his mother a prostitute. Your parents no longer show up. Friends from your old group say you're not the same anymore. You change strings for every important match, so twice a week.
2.6-2.5
You've won your first prize money, and you're seeing a Tuscan girl who plays in the futures. You dream of a Wild Card for the Internationals of Rome because (your own words) before the third round you only find pushers. You wake up in the morning with excruciating back pain. If the match is on Saturday, Wednesday is the last good day for sex.
2.4 -2.3
Before an important match you never sleep at night, in the morning you throw up and then you're ready to play. You wear sunglasses after the match because you fear being recognized, you've written to Sky Sport that you'd like to comment on matches but they haven't replied. Your ankles bother you, your wrist needs surgery immediately.
2.2 – 2.1
You're quite relaxed, you go everywhere with your tennis bag hoping to be recognized, you’ve already signed some autographs, and you enter the locker room when everyone’s already changed. You’re starting to need a full-time masseur. You have a girlfriend at every major tennis club, FIT is courting you, but for spite, you respond with "call my agent," (still you, but with a different voice). You accept the funding without complaint.
1
Only thirty people in Italy are as good as you, and this still needs to be confirmed. You’re 21 years old, a photo on the ATP website, and a meager amount in the earnings box. You're easily eliminated in the first round of all the major tournaments, expenses pile up, and your father has already made it clear he won’t pay them. Your English sucks.
You managed to enter the top 200 of the ranking at 22. You give up the coach, otherwise by the end of the season, you’d break even. Your English still sends shivers down the spine. The first sponsors are a discount unknown sportswear brand. You enter the court and at the first slide, your new shoes split in two, with sweat your t-shirt melts and by the third set, you find yourself in your underwear.
You’re in the Top 50, your coach is Russian, and for all the money he wants, you're even trying to write in Cyrillic. The Portuguese masseur is a specialist, and at least with him talking is more intuitive. You’ve beaten a top 30, and you proudly recall it in every interview. You're invited to a charity initiative to participate in the lowest of competitions: mixed doubles. Adidas and Reebok are vying for you. You've entered the top 20: in Davis, you’re a certainty. The other wrist needs surgery, immediately. Nike offers you an exclusive contract. All you need to do to stay in the wonderful world of the swoosh is (as the clause reads) "keep winning." At the sports medical check-up, the doctor finds you visibly stressed.
The TOP TEN is the Olympus: when you get there, you do it in a Lamborghini, thanks to the victory in your first Masters 1000 tournament. Advertising contracts multiply, checks get fatter, and it seems pointless to keep holding a racket. You sleep with as many women as you can (those left after Safin has been through), and then you retire.
All this isn't in Brad Gilbert's book, but I think that's the gist: understand your opponent's weaknesses and don’t let them know yours, otherwise, you’re screwed. After reading "Open," I was eagerly waiting for the Italian edition of this book. It must be said, there's nothing incredible, but it's a good read for a tennis player who knows how this sport works. I recommend it to anyone with their TV tuned to Supertennis at least 4 hours a week, to all those who mockingly call themselves "Rogers" without any apparent tennis merits, to the over 40 (the old school ones) who steal points and hope their young opponent doesn't notice, and to all those who tried to move up a category and then realized that at a certain point losing really hurts.
You had your chance, now you can ruin your child's life.
Loading comments slowly
