For the Honor of Tennis: A Contrary Opinion
It’s been two days now since the Australian Open staged the final match of its men’s singles competition—a final blighted by injury, clumsiness, ranting, boos, and pathos. Especially pathos.
Early in the second set, heavily favored world #1 Rafael Nadal pulled up short with back spasms—a painful and disabling affliction. After treatment during a medical time out, he said, he realized that “it was over.” No longer able to move to the ball, barely able to serve, he had no real shot options. Yet, rather than retire from the physical and emotional trauma and concede the win, he chose to continue on court without any hope of victory.
Sadly, many in the arena believed it was a sham, and even his opponent, Stan Wawrinka, seemed confused how to proceed. But eventually grandstand boos turned to guilty cheers as Nadal, sometimes in tears, valiantly hobbled about, fighting to “play” for—
Ah. For what?
According to the abashed commentators, it was for many reasons: His self-respect, to salvage something from the wreck of his hopes. For his opponent, in order not to cheapen Wawrinka’s certain victory. For the ticket holders, the TV viewers, the sponsors, the broadcasters, not to waste their money and time. And, most powerfully, for glory—for history—for the honor of tennis.
I have no doubt that all this is true; Rafa and his uncle, the irrepressible Tío Toni, have said as much. Moreover, fans and pundits alike have praised this performance for embodying the highest standards of sportsmanship.
But does it? Really?
I take nothing away from Rafael Nadal. He was brave, valiant, and sincere in his desire to suffer for honor. And suffer he did. No one appreciates more than I either the very real grit or the profound symbolic power of that effort. His total commitment and zealous drive are part of a top athlete’s extreme competitiveness. Nadal’s gallantry was laudatory, his desire to do the right thing wholly admirable.
But I speak from a mother’s heart and a hard head: the tennis world’s scorn for injury retirement in a final seems an unwise, misguided, romantic excess that endangers one player and shames the other. Continuing to play when one is already badly hurt invites more damage and imperils an athlete’s season, maybe even his career. And what must his opponent do? Either spray shots past a stranded rival, or lower his own game and risk a foolish loss, neither of which is admirable or entertaining. Tennis dishonors itself by requiring such risk and sacrifice in order to make the winner feel better about his achievement.
Other arguments—citing the vested interests of media and fans—are no more compelling. Without the players, there is no tennis; their wellbeing should be paramount. Sponsors and broadcasters make plenty of money off them, so if anything they should be interested in safeguarding the athletes. Disappointed fans? Ticket holders are no more guaranteed epic, all-out 5-set matches than they are optimal weather and attractive kits. The decision whether to continue play when injured ought not to be influenced by consideration of these parties. Venality should not trump an athlete’s career, even in the final of a Major; to do so smacks of the Roman gladiatorial arena.
So. What do I regard as the sportsmanlike solution, in the event of debilitating injury in a final? Admit the impairment and surrender. Meet the other guy at the net, acknowledge one’s defeat, shake hands, and get treatment. The victor? Perform an act of grace and accept the truth—the win came in part through another’s bad luck. That’s sport. Everybody else: Stand up and applaud two pros.
I know many won’t like my solution. It’s less gaudy and mythic than fighting a hopeless battle until one can no longer stand. But it’s also more sensible and compassionate; no one is forced to look like a bully or a sacrificial lamb, or risk further injury. To me, acknowledging the painful truth best honors the sport and its competitors.
©Melissa McDowell, 2014. All rights reserved.
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