Should Venus retire?

I found the question to be offensive and told my friend so. We began to argue. She believes that Venus is ruining her legacy by continuing to hang around the game. She wants that the last memories of Venus Williams not be ones in which she is being beaten by the likes of Laura Robson in the first round of the Italian Open.

I think that that position is completely unfair. In fact it’s unfair to both Venus and Laura. It implies that Laura Robson is so talentless that she ought not to beat a player like Venus Williams. This is the same Laura Robson who won Olympics silver with Andy Murray, and took out Kvitova in Australia earlier this year. Laura can play decent tennis. And as a lefty, she can challenge the best on a good day. And although Serena then beat her in straights, she had her moments of challenging Serena.

But the question in my title is particularly offensive to Venus Williams herself. Don’t get me wrong, I kind of understand why some folks are asking it. The well-wishers are probably concerned about Venus’ health. But surely Venus and her doctors know her limits better than we do? Surely the specialists she can afford have blessed off on her decision to remain active?

Furthermore, from a psychological point of view, Venus may be healthier because she is continuing to do something she loves. Her motivation to stay healthy will increase if she remains actively engaged in doing things she enjoys. What should she retire and do? How could staying home and twiddling her thumbs possibly be the healthier path for her?

Retirement is a huge and depressing step for a lot of people. They have to give up their self-identity as workers and doers and find another way to extract meaning from life. And if Venus does not feel ready to make that step, no one should force her to do it.

I've written before about how much I really dislike it when people start calling for any player to retire. Already the drumbeat is also starting for Roger Federer. His latest loss to Nadal tells me only that he still has a mental block when it comes to playing Nadal – not that he should hang up his tennis shoes any time soon.

If Tommy Haas had listened to the naysayers, he would never have made it back from injury and his parents’ crisis to play great tennis. If Agassi had listened to the detractors, he would not have had the courage to go back to the challengers and re-find his form. If Kimiko Date-Krumm hadn't dusted off the cobwebs, she would not now be ranked  34^th in the world at the sweet young age of 43. 

I believe that people should retire from playing a sport when they want to, and on their own terms. No one should be forced out of the game by a bunch of fans who want the reflection of all of the glory when the player is on top, but none of the pain as the player begins to struggle.

So to answer my own question, no Venus should not retire. She should continue playing tennis for as long as she wants to and feels healthy enough to do so. She is currently ranked 41^st in the world. Ranked just below her are Daniela Hantuchova and Francesca Schiavone. Are we saying that these women should retire too?

Did Sloane Stephens fail media training?

One of the plusses of being a top male tennis player is the requirement that you submit to media training. The ATP has been pretty open about the fact that they train tennis stars on how to handle the media and themselves appropriately.

I’ve always assumed that the WTA offers a similar service for the women. But after reading the fiasco that was Sloane Stephens’ latest ESPN interview, I have to wonder if the problem is that the WTA does not offer this service, or whether Sloane was just a dunce in media class. There are no other explanations for her abject stupidity.

For a start, let’s get real. Sloane Stephens beat an INJURED Serena in Australia earlier this year. Serena was hobbled by a twisted ankle and severe back spasms. She posted a picture of the swollen ankle lest there be any doubts as to why she lost to Sloane. You would think that this would have tempered Stephens’ celebration of her win.

Instead, Sloane revealed herself to be a kind of hypocrite. Mere weeks earlier, after losing to Serena in Brisbane, Sloane had this to say about her opponent: “She's so sweet…I love her. Obviously she's been a really great influence in my tennis career...Obviously I always was like, ‘Oh, my God.’ I love her to death. She's amazing, whatever. Now she's like an actual person and I'm like, 'Oh, hi. How is it going?' She's not like a hero anymore. She's just a friend.”

As it should be. Because for every up-and-coming player of color, Serena and her sister Venus will forever be the ones that paved the way. Thank goodness they had each other in the locker room because no one spoke to them. Thank goodness for parents who loved and protected them because no one else did. And with their pain and sacrifice, they paved the way for the likes of Sloane.

But instead of graciously acknowledging this, Sloane chose to tell ESPN about a grudge she has held against the Sisters since she was 12. She and her family had waited all day for the Williams sisters to sign their posters but never got the desired autographs. A clearly delusional and narcissistic Sloane then proceeds to bash the Sisters, while apparently ignoring her mother's attempts at restraint:

‘“Yes! The people need to know! I waited all day. They walked by three times and never signed our posters…I hung it up for a while. I was, like, devastated because they didn't sign it, whatever, and then after that I was over it. I found a new player to like because I didn't like them anymore.” The new player? Kim Clijsters.

Wow. I don’t know where to begin with this ungrateful biyatch.

Sloane has since seemed to come to some modicum of awareness. She offered a retraction via Twitter:  “Guilty of being naive. Much respect 4 ‪@serenawilliams , a champ & the GOAT. We spoke, we're good. ONWARD! ‪#lifelessons”. Not bad from a dunce.

But here is Serena’s simply brilliant response to ESPN’s revelations:  “I don’t really know. I don’t have many thoughts. I’m a big Sloane Stephens fan and always have been. I’ve always said that I think she can be the best in the world. I’ll always continue to think that and always be rooting for her.”

See Sloane? That’s how it’s done. When you’re the best, you don’t have to engage with ungrateful immature fools. 

So Sharapova is a cougar now?

I love good tennis gossip. Or maybe I just love celebrity gossip period. I’m not into real-people-that-I-know gossip. That would involve betraying confidences, which is just not cool. But give me some good celebrity gossip any day. And celebrity tennis gossip is the best!

I decided years ago that this was going to be the counterbalance for my oh-so-serious professional life. Like just yesterday I was in stitches after Miley Cyrus announced to the world that she had made it to the top of the Maxim 100 list. She couldn’t wait for Maxim to tell us, she had to say it first. She was so proud of this non-achievement! I would have felt embarrassed for her if I wasn’t so busy laughing at the pathetic-ness of it all.

Not everyone appreciates my fondness for celebrity gossip. I remember an ex who, early in the relationship, told me that it drove him crazy that his ex-girlfriend, a brain surgeon, would come home everyday and turn on the TV to watch game shows. The more mind numbing, the better. Well did he make a mistake in deciding to date me after her!

To his horror, he quickly found out that I had my own version of crap-addiction – I read online gossip rags. Like his ex, I suspect that it is a way of washing my head out after a day of being totally embedded in the serious and painful lives of my patients.

When I get home, I just want to wash my brain clean. And nothing does the trick like reading what that preggo Kartrashian is wearing lately as she continues to stifle that poor fetus within layers of Spanx, as Kanye continues to seem horrified by the reality of the life he has procured. If you can’t laugh at the ridiculousness of celebrity lives, what can you laugh at?

So yes, I did laugh like a loon as I read about Maria Sharapova’s latest photo shoot. She is wearing a nude-colored bathing suit. It is all the rage, I know. But some women should never wear nude and Maria is unfortunately one of them. The color just washes her out. It highlights all of her imperfections. And it is beyond ridiculous that she did this for the Latin American version of Esquire. Hola Maria? Are you serious? Which Latino man is gonna get it up for this?

But the real gossip of Maria’s life is the persistent rumor that, following the end of her engagement to Sasha, the basketball player who ended up in Turkey, she has been secretly dating the 21 YO Federer-wannabe, Grigor Dimitrov. So Maria is a Cougar now? LOL!

And that’s not all! :eek: Rumor has it that Dimitrov dated Serena for a hot minute after she and Common broke up last year. So Maria is apparently chomping on Serena’s sloppy seconds?? ¡Qué escándalo!

¡Y hay más! Apparently Maria gave Grigor the blue Porche she won in Stuttgart just weeks ago!! I wonder what Serena ever gave him?

There! My brain, all washed and clean. 

In defense of the mental health time-out

This entry was inspired by a reader’s (Madame Lisa’s) comment. She said, “I wanted to hear your take on Azarenka’s behavior at the SF of the AO this year …the panic attack”. Thanks Lisa. You probably realize that I am a big ole nerd who loves doing homework assignments. And I am going to take a stance in defense of Victoria Azarenka.

Shocking, I’m sure. If Azarenka were an effigy, she would have been burned in Australia after she took a 9-minute time-out to gather her nerves during the semi-final match against Sloane Stephens. People felt that she was being given special privilege because she was (at the time) the top player of the WTA.

Me, I watch stunned as Sloane sat there passively, not complaining, not saying a word. I was speechless with anger – at Sloane. I could not believe her apathy. I could not handle her forbearance. I found myself thinking that if it was Serena who had taken the prolonged time-out, Sloane would have been shouting disrespect from on top of the dome of the stadium. But perhaps because her opponent was a White bitch – as opposed to a Black one – Sloane sat there like a loser as her muscles went cold and the match slipped away from her hands.

And yes, I do also understand the rage against Azarenka. The lengthy break was suspiciously timed. It went on for far too long. It had the tone of gamesmanship from a player well known for her manipulativeness during tennis matches. The way she holds up her hand just as the server is preparing to serve. The way she often seems belatedly not ready to receive. The way she seems intentionally to throw the server off her rhythm. The way her high-pitched screams continue well past her contact with the ball, all the way into its return to her. Yes, in my opinion, Azarenka is a manipulative bitch.

And yet I will defend her right to take a mental health time-out in the middle of a match. Do you know why? It’s because if she had had a hamstring injury, she would have been allowed time to have it diagnosed and treated. I don’t see the difference between the need for diagnosis and treatment of emotional distress. And I think that players should be allowed time out for treatment of mental distress as long as the rules continue to allow for treatment of physical injury. In a just world, the latter would not be favored over the former.

Rules have to be consistent. There was a time when the injury rule did not exist. But thanks to one Shuzo Matsuoka, the rules were changed in 1995, allowing players to receive medical treatment during a match instead of having to forfeit. 

This new rule has, of course, been abused like no other in tennis. Well-intentioned in its motive, it opened a floodgate of one-upmanship as players pretend to be injured only to run like gazelles toward the winning trophy. But as long as this rule continues to exist – and chances are it’s not going anywhere anytime soon – then it must be implemented.

My position is that if we allow players time out to treat heatstroke and pulled groins, then we must also allow them time to gain control of their emotions during an anxiety attack, if said anxiety is limiting their ability to perform. (I wasn’t there but I find it hard to believe Azarenka had a true 'panic attack'. People tend to mislabel anxiety as panic all the time).

Will the rule continue to be exploited? Of course it will, in much the same way that the medical time-out has been abused by cheaters with eyes only on the dollar prize. Heck, Azarenka has been known to be taken off court on a full stretcher when everybody and his sister felt that she was just being a frigging drama queen.

So yes, I will concede that her prolonged anxiety attack smells of the same level of veracity as sundry of her physical injuries. But she did not invent the rules. And once you let the horse out of the barn, it’s too damn late to wonder how you’re going to go about reining it back in.

Watching the men watch the women play tennis

I find it refreshing that Martina Martina Hingis has found new footing as a professional tennis coach. As a long-time Hingis apologist, I am always pleased when she does well. I have always believed that Hingis has more talent in her little finger than most people have in their entire bodies. And her coaching Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova into finals success at the 2013 Portugal Open made my cynical heart very happy.

But what especially made me feel good was the fact that Pavlyuchenkova’s success came at the hands of a woman. Hingis has become one of the few women coaching at the professional level in tennis. I’m sure that the USTA and other professional bodies hire scores of women to coach juniors. But the minute women go pro, the list of options seems to become gender biased in favor of men. And that is so not cool.

Indeed, I’ve taken to watching the men as they watch the women playing tennis. And I don’t just mean the male coaches. I am referring to the entire entourage – the physiotherapists, the agents, the hitting partners, the fathers, and of course, the lovers. For the most part, the entourage surrounding most of the top women’s tennis players seems to consist exclusively of men.

Take Maria Sharapova for example. If there is a vagina other than hers in her entourage, I must have missed it. And she is not unique in this so don’t think I am picking on her. Look at most of the top female tennis players and all you can see is a bunch of men ravenously looking on as the player strives for success on the court. And you don’t have to take my word for it. Check for yourself.

Watching these men as they watch the women playing tennis can be a distinctly unsettling experience. The hunger in their eyes, the greed, the silent willing, the unspoken pushing – it’s all there, and it’s all rather disturbing. How do we know that these women are safe? How do we know that they aren’t being subjected to all kinds of abuse after losing matches? Who patrols the entourage?

There is something unsettling to me about this masculine dominance of the tennis woman’s entourage. Surely these women can do like Serena and benefit from the presence of an Oracene or a female physiotherapist? Surely they can understand why Azarenka has blossomed from the inclusion of Meilen Tu in her support group? Surely most women appreciate the presence of other women, as supporters, confidantes, sisters, believers, boosters, whatever?

In 2013, I find kind of unnerving to see how men continue to control this sport. Where are the women? Why aren’t they also coaching both men and women’s tennis? Amelie Mauresmo should not be the exception, she should be the rule.

And yes you can rebut that it is no different among male players where men are also in control. But such a lame rebuttal misses my point entirely doesn’t it? 

Some quiet Sunday afternoon for sure

First I need to say thanks to those of you who are still reading this blog and responding with comments. That is amazing. I really didn’t think my little blog would survive my abandonment but apparently it has and here I am again.

Why exactly did I stop writing? The reasons are sundry; excuses I have none. Mainly I’ve discovered that I am not good at sharing my writing space which I’ve had to share for the past year and a half. I’m good at sharing other things. Certainly I’m not stingy when it comes to sharing my opinions. But space is different. I find that my writing muscles are best expressed under certain conditions of privacy and dare I say, anonymity.

Then again, there’s the cat. Yes that same cat. Like most cats, she loves to climb. And sleeping on my desk as I am trying to write is one of her favorite pastimes. That and begging for rubdowns just when my fingers threaten to become busy forming words.

Certainly it’s not because I lost interest in tennis. Far from it. Most of my DVR recordings contain tennis content. If there is ever a recording conflict, tennis will win out every time.

No, I think that the problem with stopping writing is that I could never find the best moment to start up again. I guess part of me felt that something earth shattering needed to happen in tennis to jerk me out of my self-imposed stupor.

But surely Maria Sharapova winning Roland Garros was that moment? Or Sloane Stephens getting too big for her britches and accusing Serena of disrespecting her? And what to make of Nadal’s prolonged disappearance and confident return? Which reminds me of Lance and his admission of his blood-changing, conniving, cheating ways, which we still want to believe never ever, occurs in tennis.

How to choose from the many moments of greatness single-handedly created by Djokovic over the past year? So much to choose from. And where exactly was the tennischick all this time?

For a start, I’ve been playing loads of tennis. And one of these days I will start that series I once promised that I intend to title ‘Adventures in League Tennis’. Or something equally grandiose. Once the season is over I swear up and down “never again!”, and then I go right back for more USTA-unregulated abuse by the Nazi who happens to be Captain.

And then I realized that I needed to take a page from Nadine Gordimer who once famously wrote that apartheid would not end with a bang of celebration but would fold quietly on an ordinary Monday for sure. I did not need to wait for a huge moment in tennis to occur to justify using this muscle that I have sadly neglected. I can do so on a quiet Sunday afternoon, for sure.

If Rafa could take Djoko behind the school and get him pregnant...

The result would be the amazingness of Martin Klizan. Truly Klizan's game is the perfect distillation of Rafa's lefty forehand ferocity and Djokovic's bend-gumbiness (aka his flexibility). Klizan also favors Djoko in his litheness and deceptive underlying strength. He even looks like him a little, don't you agree? And while his butt no where approximates that of Spain's finest, it is not non-existent either.

And if you don't get the joke in the title, I wouldn't blame you. No one at the 2012 Emmy's seemed to know what to make of the big-bellied buffoon and his nunchuks. You'd have to be a serious fan of “30 Rock” to get what Kimmel was trying to do with Tracy Jordan last night. But, removed from the lunacy of his show, Tracy simply looked like a bloated fool. In the context of the well-dressed White people, not even his frequently uttered “take it out behind the school and get it pregnant” joke would have worked. But I so like it for my discovery of Martin Klizan. His is the ultimate fusion of Djoko and Rafa's tennis games.

I first saw Klizan at the US Open this year and I was impressed by his spanking of Alejandro Falla. It was a decisive three-set win over the man who seriously threatened Federer at the Olympics. But flashes-in-the-pan come and go and I wasn't going to get all worked up over a single result. So I dismissed him from my thoughts, convinced that Tsonga would put him away in the second round.

And then he spanked Tsonga in four. I was stunned. But I quickly started making excuses for Tsonga who had been so utterly charming at the Winston-Salem Open, posing for photos with myself and a friend. No I am not sharing them, you'll just have to take my word for it. But anyone so deliciously sweet to his fans was surely deserving of a pass? After all perhaps his tank was just half-empty from playing so much Big Man Tennis against Isner. (Nope, still can't let it go.)

It didn't fully register when Klizan beat Jeremy Chardy because I saw nothing of that match. Neither man makes enough of an impression in the USA to get any TV coverage. And then he went out to Cilic who bageled him in the third set, and I concluded that he was just another upstart who had run out of steam.

I changed my mind when I saw Klizan playing at the St. Petersburg Open. Yes he won that tournament, and gained his first ATP title, which was impressive. But it was really the semi-final match against Youzhny that convinced me that here was a new talent and he was here to stay. Indeed, if the ATP is fair, Klizan should receive their Newbie of the Year Award. He has been that impressive in 2012.

There was nothing that Youzhny didn't do to try to win that match. His coach/putative father looked on forlornly as Youzhny found himself stretched this way and that by the 23-year-old, less experienced clearly, but more gutsy, more creative in his play, more lacerating with his forehand blows. It was three hours and fifty minutes of scintillating tennis. I did not miss a ball.

Klizan's game is still a work in progress. He too predictably serves down the line when in a hole. He favors his forehand but can mis-time shots on the backhand. He goes for the dropshot a little too predictably at times. He needs to get fitter and improve his endurance. Toward the end of the match against Youzhny, Klizan seemed to be cramping, although that did not prevent him from winning.

Despite the fact that he was last to finish on court – having gone on to play doubles after the almost four-hour semi-final match – Klizan was nevertheless favored to win the finals against Fabio Fognini. With a game that is the perfect blend of the best of Rafa and Djoko, Klizan easily spanked the Italian who irritated me with his lackadaisical attitude even as he amused me with his loud self-muttering, silly racket-throwing, and occasional looks of consternation at the man across the net.