AP. The Press-Enterprise.
Earlier this week I attended my first professional tennis match. I enjoy watching baseball, basketball, and football games, I can't participate in those sports and the crowds are rowdy and everyone has nicknames for different players they occasionally yell out in witty cheers. Tennis matches on television never struck me as terribly interesting. I am more amused watching the heads of spectators bob back and forth in synchronized motion as if part of a well-timed flash mob, without the fun dance moves. Tennis is kind of like that, everyone shows up at the same time, bob their heads and eyes to-and-fro for two and a half hours and then simultaneously scatters back to their daily lives.
I was either trying to decide my next move on words with friends or engrossed with eating my gordon-biersch garlic fries (which I could still taste the next morning, they are very powerful) when I heard his cry. Needless to say, I did not see what happened and I mindlessly wrote it off as another celebrity diva moment. He missed the ball and was now throwing a fit. Typical.
But that's not how it went. I wish the stadium screen showed replays, like on television, with ample commentary. From what I heard, he seemed to have rolled on his ankle while running toward the ball. This was unfortunate. Stream of sympathetic thoughts followed.
What if he injured himself horribly just running, this wasn't making the game-winning hit or running from a rampant bear with rabies. It was during a simple act that could have happened anytime of the day. One injury could cost a career. This is his livelihood. He deserves to be yelling in agony (and disrupting my game of scrabble). Could you imagine spending a quarter of your life practicing for a sport only to be injured and told you could no longer work in your current profession? Goodbye contracts, major source of income, and current lifestyle. I suppose all athletes run this risk. A simple trip, hit, bump, roll of the ankle could be the end of the life you currently know. But this could happen to anyone- a car crash, a ski accident, a rampant bear with rabies... the end of the life you currently know. (Actually, there is a vaccine for rabies, but not for what an angry bear might do to you.)
As my mind wandered, someone joined Roddick on the court and taped his ankle. In football, the moment someone does not stand up after a play, a ready team of physicians and help rush to the field. By rush, I mean they really do run with haste. In tennis, after five minutes, someone with a big bag finally walked across the court to join the lonely player.
He didn't make a spectacle. He didn't roll around on the ground clutching his injured limb with tears of pain streaming down his cheeks. He sat. Then he climbed up on his injured ankle while the crowd cheered him forward. Onward ho. His step was a bit slower and wobbly as he regained his footing. Though he lost that one round, he came back in full force with his 135mph serves and sheer effort. He chased after every ball no matter how far he would have to run on his taped ankle.
I can see how people can look up to athletes as role models. Each game can result in so many stories. I am glad there are so many photographers to catch each moment. Being a top player requires the motivation and discipline most commoners lack.
Yes, he won the game.
No, I did not win my game of scrabble. I suppose it's not fair to blame a finger injury.
