AN ODE TO AN AUSSIE
Bill Simons
MELBOURNE–There was a hush in a Melbourne arena tonight, a stillness that was as quiet as Lleyton Hewitt’s career was loud.
Rusty, the gritty Australian treasure, had shouted his last c’mon. He’d scrambled to flick his last crosscourt winner off a drop shot. He had blasted his final two-handed backhand. He was fierce to the end – no surprise. Our game’s greatest fighter since Jimmy Connors left it all out on the court. He couldn’t do it any other way.
This fellow gained fame and considerable fortune the old way. Scratching out every victory. Every point was a war, every foe an enemy. His will was a force – unrelenting. He never blinked.
These days, some on the tour seem entitled, but not this man. Some power-meisters get free points off of blurry serves or forehands that pin. With Lleyton little was free. He taught a generation how to win from the baseline. He shaped the mold and then fellows like Federer and Nadal and Djokovic and Murray took it to new heights – today’s tennis.
Hewitt was not pretty. His wins were hard-earned, his ethos hardscrabble. You saw his will in his chiseled face, his ferocity evident. Few wanted to mess with this feisty fighter – the battling bloke.
He won his two Grand Slams in distant cities, London and New York. But he was an Aussie’s Aussie. No one in this international game was more patriotic. This year he literally wore his country’s flag on his chest.
Few who saw him as an in-your-face wannabe would be surprised that he’s had a 20-year career with 616 match wins. But there were contradictions. He loved his land. Was a Davis Cup hero and now a Davis Cup Captain. But he never reeled in his island’s biggest fish – the Aussie Open title.
Once he was a raw, unrefined man-child: hair long, backwards hat, nasty lob. He sued institutions, frustrated foes and infuriated fans.
He was easy to hate.
Now he’s beloved.
Grit, time and a world-class backhand will do that. And, go figure, now he’s a caring patriarch. His three darling kids walked out on court after his final match and into his arms.
Some of Hewitt’s battle scars are clear, others are hidden. He walks with a waddle, his feet are a mess. But these are merely badges of honor. The man fought the fight like few others.
Now, having just fallen 6-2, 6-4, 6-4 to another battler, David Ferrer, Hewitt said his final farewell. We thought of Chrissie Evert waving a last wave or Agassi inspiring us with poignant words.
Tonight Rusty came from the heart. He thanked his sport, his nation, his fans and his family.
And tennis thanked him.
Others had bigger games.
No one had more grit – true grit.
