Dear Mel,
Don’t worry. Remember that after he concocted the theory of relativity, whiz Albert Einstein faltered big time. Remember that when Michael Jordan briefly switched from hoops to baseball, he was a dud with the Birmingham Barons. And we know that the golfer dude, Tiger what’s his name — didn’t even win a major this year. So relax, Mel. Take it in: relish, enjoy. You’ll never again be a sweet 17, and all you did this Open was to zoom out of nowhere and rock this house and the known tennis universe.
All you did was let American tennis zealots know that they don’t have to mourn. The sky is actually not falling! There is hope for women’s tennis in this land beyond those still formidable Williams gals.
More than that, you gave something sweet, something fresh. You reminded us of the innocence of youth — vital and unafraid — brimming with potential. Yes, on this great night against a soon-to-be-great Dane, you came out flat. (All the greats, even Fed, occasionally, suffer from the blahs. Just ask Scot Andy Murray, who came close to stinking up the joint yesterday.) Truth be told, Mel, maybe this moment was a tad too much. Maybe, putting the hopes of this relentless tennis nation on your shoulders was too much. But sorry, we couldn’t help it.
You were just too dang appealing, bringing down to Earth those wonders of our game: Serb Jankovic at Wimbledon, and four Russians (count ’em) in the Big Apple: Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova, former finalist Elena Dementieva, three-time Slam winner Maria Sharapova and former French semifinalist Nadia Petrova. You were so revealing. You told us, “I never thought that I’d play Sharapova on Ashe Stadium…Definitely did not see that coming. So that whole match, just getting to play her and beating her, I’ve never met her before, so shaking her hand after the match was the first time I met her. It was crazy. The whole thing, though, I loved it.”
I guess, Mel, it was just your turn to come down to this nasty reality we call Earth. Those magic neon yellow-and-pink tennis slippers seemed to take you over the rainbow. But now you’ve been plunked back down in Kansas. Your message was BELIEVE. And trust me, we still do believe. We believe in the scramble and scurry winners you unleashed. We believed in your everyday humility. Your willingness to work and battle and your breathless (“so what that I got drubbed in the first set”) comebacks. But it was just not going to happen on this Arthur Ashe night.
Okay, maybe in retrospect, you shouldn’t have fed the swirling PR frenzy by doing that zany Times Square photo shoot, where a faux riot nearly broke out. Maybe you had a little too much time to think about it all. Maybe the huge crowd tonight could not get into the arena because the day matches stretched long, and once the throng was in the arena you couldn’t feed them the kick-start winners they needed to whip ’em into those ear-splitting frenzies that so energized you all week.
Or maybe it was simply that you finally faced an unafraid foe who was not about to melt under the pressure. True, the best Caroline Wozniacki had done in Slams was to three times reach the fourth round. But the blonde with the petite features has collected six titles this year and claimed many a big-time scalp: think Dementieva, Kuznetsova (here at the Open,) Mauresmo and Azarenka. Plus, she’s used to facing a streaking national idol playing her nation’s major. She lost to Aussie Jelena Dokic in Melbourne, but it was a teachable moment, perfect for this night.
As much as anything, Mel, you ran into a savvy, consistent strokemeister with a sweet backhand, who didn’t hand you free points and, as you confided, made you hit “a thousand balls.”
Yes, you admitted you were a perfectionist and that you were more than upset after your modest play and deflating loss. And you told us there were plenty of ups and downs during the week. Unbelievably, just after your press conference, Sports Illustrated.com reported that your dad filed for divorce and claimed that your mom was having an affair with your coach. (Can our sport ever have a feel-good story without somebody or something raining on the seemingly happy parade?) Incredible, Mel. How did you handle this pressure, this heartbreak, this chaos and conflict smack in the middle of your camp? You are a wonder.
You noted, “These past two weeks…I’ve gone from being just a normal like tennis player to almost everyone in the United States knowing who I am now.”
No kidding!
As you said, your run here has given “a lot of hope to the other Americans, especially the American junior girls, because I’ve gotten a lot of support from them. I’ve heard them all cheering for me in the junior indoor courts…It’s inspiring to them …It tells them that they can do as well as me if they keep working hard and they want it enough.”
More than anything, Mel, throughout this whole magical mystery tour you’ve kept it real. You’ve kept it real through the New York roar, the shoving photogs, the adoring fans, the pressure and pushy press corps as you soared on a tennis journey like few others.
But we have to be honest. We have to take issue with just one thing. You said, “This was a good starting point for you.”
Wrong.
This was a FABULOUS starting point for you. You play with such stutter-step beauty and fire, courage and abandon. Fearless. And not since old-soldier Jimmy Connors pulled off his (“don’t write me off”) run to the ’91 semis has there been such a sizzling cluster of wins by such a captivating figure. And you know what, Mel, in the big pic, maybe its not all that bad you suffered this loss, this night. You are so young. You will be overwhelmed as it is. Imagine the torrent of pressure and expectations if you had made it to the final. Your day to bask surely will come.
In the meantime, thank you Mel. Thank you for those sparkling shoes and the message we will never forget — BELIEVE.
Yours in Tennis,
Bill Simons
Editor and Publisher
Inside Tennis
