Sentiments in the wake of the announcement of Monica Seles' official retirement.
I wanted to start this blog with a Monica Seles grunt, but there’s no way in the world that I could spell it! Just like there’s no one in my world that compares to Monica Seles as a competitor. Monica is my all-time favorite tennis player despite the annoying shriek that changed the sounds of tennis forever, and despite Roger Federer’s unparalleled genius.
Monica’s combination of creative, fearless play and unwavering graciousness wedged her firmly in my heart, through cracks in the walls her screeching erected. The unrelenting “Aa-Eee” on every shot demanded a decrease in TV volume, and jangled one’s nerves live, but her attributes far outweighed that drawback.
An athlete who gave all on every point, but did not appear athletic. She delivered devastating strikes off both two-handed wings, yet had no rippling muscles. She created geometric gems of angles that stretched the bounds of physics, but was a little round herself. Whether it was 15-15 in the first game or triple match-point, Seles brought the same game, and inflicted equal measures of pain on her opponents.
Then, I’d watch the interview after a match, and she’d seem shy, unassuming, not quite comfortable in the role of one of the greatest players ever. That demur demeanor was incongruent with her brisk gait and blistering ball bashing on court. Perhaps it was the contrast that captured me.
For a few moments during the 2007 US Open, I was teased with tidbits of hope. Rumors of a Seles comeback were bandied about the airways like sitter volleys that make your eyes light up…before you smack it depressingly into the net.
The tinge of sadness coloring the news of her official retirement cannot overshadow the joy of having had the chance to watch Monica’s greatness in real time.
