The Ritual Master My earliest memories of tennis are snapshots of hot summer afternoons in front of the TV, while my father watched a game at Wimbledon. Or was it Roland Garros ? I can’t remember, and it was probably all the same to me at the time. He had his favourites, names I picked up as a child without really knowing them or what their game was all about, I was simply hypnotised by the small yellow bouncing ball.
I think I only became aware of the game somewhere between the rise of Roger Federer and the discovery of Novak Djokovic. Nobody played tennis for a hobby in my family. I had a distant cousin who played a little, but basically there was no incentive to actively practice it. However with a sports fan as dedicated as my father, you could say that I was destined to become a supporter.
Fast forward to the Spring of 2017. I had just returned from Liverpool where I attended my first game on Anfield (a whole other subject for a future video, maybe), and I think that somewhere in my mind, that whole experience made it seem like nothing was impossible. So on a total whim, I looked online to see how many kidneys you would have to sell in order to attend Roland Garros. The answer was shocking : for the price of a three course diner in Paris you could spend a whole day on the smaller courts at Roland Garros and experience first hand the vibes of a grand slam tournament. This is where the true madness began.
With the exception of the pandemic, I haven’t missed an edition since, and maybe it’s not a lifetime thing, but it is most definitely the start of a tradition. I’ve been alone or with friends, and I love both, even though I must say that going alone is a truly special experience. Like many other activities I suppose, going alone forces you to be in the present moment and observe everything around you, instead of chit-chatting about this or that. This doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy good, passionate company if I can find it, but my alone days at Roland have a special place in my heart. I get to wonder the alleys around the elegant Simone Matthieu court and admire the greenhouse inspiration coming from the historical Auteuil Botanical Gardens next door. These exquisite gritstone buildings used to host the Orangery, carpentry and blacksmith workshops, but also the chief gardener’s apartments and stables. Today, they give a cosy village vibe to the tournament grounds, with stylish restaurants and shops.
This year I treated myself to two days on the grounds, and I spent the few weeks before with some themed reads, of course.
David Foster Wallace’s essays on tennis brought together under the name String Theory have many descriptive passages on specific games he remembers, so they demand a great deal of concentration to follow along, but every once in a while, a phrase of great inspiration comes along and whisks you away into the excellent writing category. Like this :
Beauty is not the goal of competitive sports, but high-level sports are a prime venue for the expression of human beauty. The human beauty we’re talking about here is beauty of a particular type : it might be called kinetic beauty. Its power and appeal are universal. It has nothing to do with sex or cultural norms. What it seems to have to do with, really, is human beings’ reconciliation with the fact of having a body.
And then I dove into Christopher Clarey’s biography of Roger Federer, The Master. This is a delight for any tennis fan, since I don’t believe there are any that do not recognise and respect Federer’s astonishing career. Just like with String Theory, you do have to concentrate quite a bit to follow the descriptions of specific games or match points, or maybe my summer brain was just overwhelmed by the technical details. However, it’s all worth it, just to be able to better understand the mentality of a legend.
My first read was actually my favorite, starting with the title : Love Game by Elizabeth Wilson.
The fact that a 0 on the board translates to Love in the voice of the umpire is just one of the quirks of tennis that linguists adore. And the book comes up with a clever explanation for it, taking the reader through the history of the game from its beginnings as a Victorian pastime, to the multi-billion dollar industry it is today. One of the central subjects is the amateur vs professional status, and I found the information to be extremely valuable if, like me, you happened to catch the bug at one point without knowing a great deal about the past. This also makes for a perfect introduction to Roland Garros, since many of the legends you read about are symbolized all around the stadium complex. From Suzanne Lenglen’s skirt blowing in the wind, to the Musketeers Garden honouring legends of the 20’s and 30’s Henri Cochet, René Lacoste, Jean Borotra and Jacques Brugnon. All the way to the latest addition of Rafael Nadal’s statue, 14 times winner of the French Open.
It should come as no surprise that a historical approach to tennis is my personal favourite out of the three. What it does, especially if you plan on going to any of the grand slam tournaments, is make you aware of the special energy that hums on the courts of the greatest tennis temples in the world.
But whether I see it live or in front of a screen, tennis embodies some of the highest values I admire in sports.
The absolute silence achieved by tens of thousands of souls waiting for that perfect backhand.
The elegance of a perfect ace placed on the T.
The grace of a confrontation with no physical contact.
The fair play that never fails to elevate both players and supporters to a refined version of competition.
And most of all, the sheer joy that comes from the enthusiasm of supporting a player, without any personal gain whatsoever.
For all this, and often times, so much more, I declare myself a tennis lover, and exuberant winner and a serene loser.
Until next time, enjoy your reading and support your champions !
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