But by far the biggest news was off-court, something we had been expecting but hoping against – Monica Seles announced her retirement from professional tennis. That’s nearly enough to overshadow other WTA news for an entire season, let alone a single blog post. I won’t try to deny that. As we should, let’s talk about Monica.
She is the classic test case for the “glass half-empty” versus “glass half-full” debate. Monica Seles, on her way to becoming perhaps the greatest in the history of the game, was stabbed in the back by a deranged fan of arch-rival Steffi Graf during a changeover at a tournament in Germany. Before the nightmare, she had dominated the sport, winning all three of the Slams she contested in 1991 and three of four in 1992. When she returned to the tour in 1995, she wasn’t as fit, her game wasn’t quite as fierce, and she was unable to reincarnate the Monica of before. The question is this: How are we to assess the Monica that came out on the other end of things? Do we shake our heads at the thought of what might have been, or do we smile at the picture of courage that she became? Perhaps a little bit of both is in order – both for Monica herself and for us.
It all happened so quickly. At the 1989 French Open, a scrawny 15-year-old from Yugoslavia annoyed number one Steffi Graf in the semis before the champ pulled through. It was a sign of things to come, for the loser on that occasion would become the winner the following year, as Monica defeated Steffi in the 1990 final. She would squint as she waited to return serve, but always timed the ball perfectly.
She was gangly, at times loping around the court while her opponents ran, yet was always in control of the point. Monica was a natural-born tennis player – just as much as Roger Federer is on the men’s side – doing what only the greatest sportsmen are able to do: Throw away the textbook and win with a style that others say shouldn’t work. After all, who plays with two hands off both sides? Chris Evert’s two-handed backhand had been a revolution at a time when only one-handed strokes seemed legitimate, but Monica’s game was an even greater surprise. Her double two-handed predecessors were footnotes of footnotes in the annals of tennis history – names only Bud Collins could remember.
But Monica made everyone remember her name, with double-fisted punches which broke open the court and wrenched the ball at unheard-of angles. Her geometric feats routinely made crowds gasp.
Seles’ game was at its vicious best in the 1992 French final, as she battled to a 10-8 third set victory against Graf, in what is regarded by many to be the greatest ever women’s match. Seles was stampeding into the record books.
And then, of course, she was broken. The unthinkable became reality, and Monica made the cover of Sports Illustrated not for her on-court achievements, for her on-court attack. She left the game for over 2 years, battling depression and fear at every step of the way. Finally, she made a return in 1995, powering through to the US Open final – a remarkable achievement after such a long lay-off – and lost to Graf in a nail-biting three-setter. But Monica would never rise to the heights of the past. She won only one more Slam (at the 1996 Australian Open), and should have won the 1998 French against Arantxa. Ten years after that last Grand Slam final, and plagued by a stress fracture in her foot for which she refused to go under the knife, Monica set aside her racquet for good.
She had, however, become a more beautiful person than ever in her post-stabbing years. The tenacity of her pre-stabbing game paled in comparison to the tenacity of her spirit, as Monica summoned up the courage of a champion. She didn’t let her attacker have his way. She empowered herself instead. When Monica’s old rival Steffi Graf made a comeback after knee surgery in 1998, she did so in order to retire from tennis on her own terms. Monica was able to do the same, and it is for this that she should be remembered – even more so than for all of the results.
So where does all of this leave us? Angry that her career and life were interrupted? That anger is justified. Appalled that her attacker hardly spent a day in jail? That reaction is the only option. Disappointed that she didn’t go out with a bang? It wasn’t meant to be. Amazed when we watch videos of her matches, even if we have to wear earplugs to do so? Indeed, amazement is merited. Inspired by the inner strength of a champion in life? That is without question.
