Sascha Zverev and Dominic Thiem: appreciation post
↳ We know each other well. We are best friends on the tour. We play a lot of computer games together but I am the better one
Sport is the most heartbreaking of passions.
Believe me, I've tried them all. I don't know how to be an average fan. I don't "like", I obsess. And even though I think being passionate is wonderful, I really wish I could tone my emotional investment down, because sport, and especially tennis, hurts more often than not.
The day after Arsène Wenger retired from Arsenal, a customer, devastated and unable to put his pain into perspective, told me "Sport is the most important of irrelevant things. It means nothing on the big scale of life and yet, it means the world. It's silly how sad I am, but I can't help it". Twenty four hours after the Madrid final, I could relate, big time, being way more upset than one should be following a tennis match. But as he had said, I couldn't help it.
There's no way to rationalize the disappointment when your heart belongs to a team or a player.
Since the day Dominic Thiem has taken, unknowingly, full ownership of mine, I feel like I've been on a never ending rollercoaster ride. It's psychologically exhausting.
Now, would I jump out of my seat if I could? No. Never.
But I've been trying to protect myself in case of unavoidable nosedives. The most efficient seatbelt I've found is to lower my expectations to what I'm certain Dominic is capable of, based on current circumstances. Don't get me wrong, my faith in him is limitless and he will achieve greatness. But history has proven that a few things beyond his control can get in the way of his tennis abilities. And also, Hope is a perverse b*tch. So I'm being cautious and pragmatic. It's safer and healthier considering the irrational impact of Dominic's results on my wellbeing.
Therefore, two days before the beginning of the US Open 2018, my take on Dominic's chances would have cost me a few "And you call yourself a fan??" had I made it public. But let's face it. He hadn't won a single match on hardcourt since Indian Wells in March and he had just been injured, sick and through a heavy personal disappointment in Kitzbühel not too long before.
So draw in hands, facts in mind and my arch enemy Hope silenced in the basement, I set my expectations to what I knew Dominic could do: reach Round 4 and defend his points.
I watched his first game against Basic on my phone, a great friend of mine face-timing me from Grandstand where she was seated, sixth row. I couldn't really follow the points, seeing only Dominic and a third of the court on my screen, but I understood he had broken his opponent, playing flawless and lethal tennis. So Hope got rid of her gag and yelled "OMG! He's going to have an epic US Open!". I shut her up. "Don't you start!".
He won easily, but struggled against Johnson, which I had seen coming after Steve's epic run the previous week. Dominic did it the hard way, probably harder than he could have. He drove me to turn off the stream at some point and to fear a premature heartbreak. But he did it and reinforced one of my certainties: he was born for five setters and epic battles.
Then came the match against Fritz. Dominic lost his cool, which I like to see, even though I maybe shouldn't. And not only did he play great tennis, he also displayed, once again, his unbelievable sportsmanship, advising Taylor to challenge a call on break point. A friend told me "Domi shouldn't do that. He's too nice!". And I thought "Oh, he should. Always".
He didn't become my favorite player because of his backhand or his deep runs at the French Open. He's my favorite player because he's a gem of a human being and I'll forever value kindness above all qualities.
And there we were. Round 4. Points had been defended. Personal expectations had been reached.
Facts in mind once again -their head-to-head, the surface and Anderson's current form-, I allowed Hope to come back in the leaving-room but asked her not to be too loud. Winning this one would be difficult, but it was possible.
Before the match, I tweeted "May our boy play his best tennis and enjoy himself". That's all I've ever wanted. That's why the finals in Madrid and Paris had been so painful and hard to recover from, despite the pride from watching him reached them. Because Dominic hadn't enjoyed his time on court and had left both tournaments thinking he could have played better. So yes, if he had to lose against Kevin, I was hoping he would do it in style.
Two hours and thirty-five minutes later, at 5-2 in the third set tiebreak, I was bawling my eyes out, both my hands pressed against my chest, overwhelmed and dizzy, but feeling so light I could have flown away. This, right then, this rush, this very instant, was the reason why I would never jump out of the rollercoaster. That was the point when the train reaches the top of the highest slope, when your heart starts racing, as you know what's coming, but you let go of the security guardrail and raise your arms, because you feel a hundred percent safe.
I was feeling so safe. I didn't think for one second I should silence Hope. "It's not over til it's over!". It wasn't hope. It was over. It had been over from the moment Dominic had broken Kevin in the first set and it had made no doubt from then. It might have taken a fourth set, but ultimately, Dominic would have won this match. He was playing his absolute most clever and efficient tennis and he was having the time of his life doing so. Up to the very last point, he showed the full extent of his skills and his reaction after his amazing final shot increased my life expectancy by a decade.
During the following forty-eight hours, there was no way to silence Hope. It didn't matter that Dominic had to play Rafa next. Feeling this safe is too rare, I had to make the most of it. So I was walking down the streets, grinning like an idiot, day dreaming he was going to beat Djokovic in straight sets on Sunday evening and lift the trophy. There was no stopping him, there was no stopping me.
The morning of the match, I tweeted "May our boy pull off the upset we all know he's capable of". And the reason why we all knew it, was that Dominic had made it clear he knew it too. Everything he had said in interviews was screaming fierceness and willpower.
I've explained it at the beginning, I set my expectations to what I'm certain Dominic is capable of.
So at 2am UK time, Hope sat right next to me in my chair and I hugged her tight.
The first set was a surreal experience. It was mesmerizing and more satisfying than any set of tennis I had ever watched. But somehow, it was terrifying. It felt like one of those dreams, where everything is perfect, but a tiny part of your subconscious is aware you're asleep, aware the dream might end or turn into a nightmare at any second.
Dominic was flawless, his tennis was spectacular and he wasn't playing against a diminished opponent. Rafa was being outsmarted, outrun, outgunned and it was all about Dominic's genius.
But still, such a score line was abnormal.
A year before, to the day, Dominic had won an opening set with a score line that felt abnormal. The circumstances were way different, but it was impossible not to think about it. I don't believe any Dominic fan has fully recovered from this heartbreak. I know I haven't.
Oddly, I would have felt safer if Dominic had won this first set 6-4. He was playing Rafa, a man whose ability to recover, adapt and start fresh has been proven to be the best there's ever been. I couldn't help but picture a beast, which had just been deeply provoked and was about to attack, with all it had.
So I was smiling, still, of course, but biting my nails and glancing at Hope who was really confused and had no clue what to do.
And indeed, Rafa recovered and adapted, but Dominic didn't falter. He didn't get scared. He held on, he kept fighting, kept painting lines, kept producing mind-bending tennis and kept believing. So I kept believing too.
Until he lost the third set. I switched off my laptop.
The commentator on Amazon Prime had just said "I feel like Thiem deserved to win this set, considering the terrific tennis he's been playing" and that's exactly how I was feeling. Dominic was maintaining an unbelievable level and still, it wasn't quite enough. So would anything be?
Hope had left my place and discouragement had taken over. And even though Dominic looked nothing but discouraged, I was too exhausted to watch him fight in vain. The idea of seeing him lose three sets, after that miracle of an opening one, was unbearable. Cruel and heart wrecking.
I went to bed as dawn was glimmering through my curtains. But of course I couldn't sleep, of course I couldn't let go of my phone for more than three minutes in a row. Of course I was following the score and reactions on twitter. I knew Dominic was still battling with a mental and physical strength that was about to go down in tennis history.
And I felt guilty to be hiding underneath my duvet like a coward. To have given up when he hadn't.
When he won the fourth set tiebreak, Hope stormed back into my room, turned the lights and my laptop back on and glued me to my chair. She had never seemed so dangerous and perverse. I could foresee the violence of the shock, should this specific ride end up in a wall after so many ups and downs. It would be painful. Really painful.
But this time, something was different. This time, I was protected by a brand new kind of seatbelt, I was snuggled in a cocoon of pride and gratitude.
After four hours, Dominic was still playing his heart out and he was turning mine into a colorful and sweet substance that wouldn't break, no matter what. Watching him save breakpoints by the shovelful, throw winners left and right, keep his focus and his cool, show so much resilience, all the while being an absolute angel towards everybody on court, was a dream come true. Except this one was and would remain a hundred percent real. Nothing could erase it. No outcome could stain the joy of witnessing Dominic achieve greatness.
Dominic was Great.
The fifth set tiebreak began and Hope tried to hide underneath the table. I pulled her back next to me and smiled. Whatever was about to happen, to Dominic and to my heart, we would face it together.
At 3pm, I went to work, having slept two hours and a half, my fingers skinned from all the biting, my throat hitching from all the nervous cigarettes smoked, my stomach aching from the amount of chocolate swallowed frenetically. My colleague and good friend greeted me with a sad face and a comforting hug. But he quickly took a step back and frowned "How are you so cheerful??". He had just seen the score line. He just knew Dominic had lost.
He had no idea how painless this heartbreak was.
Yes, my heart had cracked, despite everything, when Dominic had hit this final overhead wide. Tears had filled up my eyes and a rush of bitterness had shaken my entire body. I had cursed the "fifth set tiebreak rule" out loud, because it had felt so freaking unfair that, after such a fight, a single mistake on serve could be decisive.
But then, there had been this hug, this proof of Rafa's respect and affection. A respect and affection earned through years of rivalry and sportsmanship. There had been Dominic's peaceful acceptation while he was still on court, his smiles to the umpire and the crowd, something about his face whispering to my ear "He's okay, he will be okay". The standing ovation and the praising headlines already pouring in on social medias. His press conference, turning the whisper into a loud promise "He's okay, he will be okay".
And finally, this long overdue consequence: the world falling in love with Dominic.
He was finally given the credit he had always deserved, as a player and as a person. He was finally seen for who he is: a man with an arm of steel and a heart of gold.
I was cheerful, because I was happy beyond words, still snuggled in my cocoon of pride and gratitude.
Writing those lines, a week later, I'm still really emotional about it all. That's why I needed to set it down on paper.
So I never forget.
So the next time tennis feels like the most heartbreaking of passions, I'll remember how fulfilling it also is.
Sport is, indeed, the most important of irrelevant things.
In a world that's constantly shaking underneath our feet, it is an anchor.
In a life that goes so fast it can consume our feelings and leave us empty, it is an inexhaustible source of raw emotions keeping us alive.
I don't know how to be an average fan and I'm not planning on ever trying.
Because I'm lucky enough to have chosen someone who makes every twist of the ride worth it.
tangentwithtanner
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
