You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could swear, curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go.
Those words are from Benjamin Button, in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald about a man born old and living backwards.
I’m saying where those words come from for people who, like me, believe that words are only as good as whoever it was that strung them together. But before anyone gets distracted by further irrelevant curiosities, let’s set Button’s words to purpose for us to be able to mine them for the applicable lessons.
It’s the fourth game of the second set of the third round on Center Court Wimbledon—I capitalize the name of the place to denote its sacredness: It’s the main altar in the central church of tennis, the equivalent of St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican. Wimbledon commands a certain deportment. For one thing, no one steps on its hallowed grass dressed other than in white.
Still, for all the reverence conceded to Wimbledon, it is not spared the swearing, the cursing of the fates. I guess it’s all in the nature of professional sports, where passions rise in proportion to the stakes—and what stakes!
But not even the richest stakes could provoke ugly passions in one pristine competitor even as she faced a supreme challenge.
Alex Eala cool and collected (Screenshot of Swiatek vs Eala match, Wimbledon)
The score is 3-O, 40-30. The reigning champion hits the ball a trifle short, landing somewhere between the service line and the baseline, in the middle of the court. The challenger loses her footing scrambling to meet it, falls prone but holds her racket out to catch it just before it hits the ground for the point, flicks it over, gets back on her feet, but is caught out of position for the next shot. Deuce.
No screaming, no cursing of the fates.
She calmly regroups to win the next two points and take the game, stretching her lead to 4-0, and goes on to win the match in straight sets, 7-6 (11-9), 5-2.
As the vanquished leaves the court, looking forlorn, the victor applauds with the crowd, and no one can doubt it as anything other than a genuine gesture of respect, because she leaves no reason for doubt. It’s consistent with her character—no screaming, no cursing of the fates.
All of 21 years, our very own Alex Eala needed not have grown older or, like Benjamin Button, been born old and lived life in reverse to beat the challenge to grace and manners and also eliminate the defending champion, Poland’s Iga Swiatek, number three in the world—Alex is number 29.
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Alex Eala: Her exploits—right from when she was 10—I covered them
In the beginning, Alex was thought a fluke, even by some tennis analysts, even after winning the Junior U.S. Open (2022), even after beating enough rivals ranked higher. Anyway, it didn’t seem to bother her; if it did, certainly not to the point of screaming or cursing the fates.
But it did bother me. I thought I somehow knew my tennis. I thought she had everything it took.
To make up for her light Filipino build, Alex hit flat to put a competitive pace to her shots, and she did it with incredible accuracy. A keen power of anticipation gave her an edge in returning second serves, in hitting groundstrokes early, and in taking longer aim, if she so chose, for even higher accuracy. She could adapt to situations quickly, could change tactics in mid-battle.
Continuously sharpened, these talents, I was convinced, could only take her to newer and newer heights. Sure enough, she has now beaten six in the Top 10, Swiatek twice, the first time on hardcourt.
Swiatek now says she didn’t quite know how to deal with Alex’s slow serve on Wimbledon’s grass —it messed with her rhythm: “I’ve got to say it’s much tougher to return a serve like that than a normal serve.” Funny, I thought Alex’s serve had actually gained enough pace to become a more or less decent one— “a normal serve,” as Swiatek would say.
Stats story (screenshot)
I don’t know, but I think Alex Eala, is too unusual—a left-hander for one thing—if not too profound, for Swiatek and others to be able to figure her out. I myself think that, more than in any combination of weapons from the tennis armory, her strength lies in her character, which combines gift, grit, and grace as illustrated in that one self-defining moment at Wimbledon.
Losing her footing, falling front-side down, completely horizontal, yet managing to pat that ball back in play, she loses the point all the same, but not the slightest suggestion of cursing the fates issues from her.
