"You should be warned that it becomes increasingly easy, as you get older, to drown in nostalgia. In fact, you can almost measure where you are in life by the degree to which you have begun looking back rather than ahead." --Ted Koppel, in a commencement speech to St. Mary's (MD) graduates in May 2006
It's funny how the smallest event in the present can make you yearn for yesteryear. Hearing about Martina Hingis' retirement this week did that for me. I'm not going to get into the scandal that led to her retirement. It's not pertinent to this post. Instead, her leaving the game is but another reminder for me about the continuity of life.
In the abstract, continuity is a beautiful concept. It offers hope and imagination. But in reality, it often contains disappointment and the thought that nothing is as it should be. Yeah, I know. Sounds a bit overly dramatic--especially when speaking about the retirement of a tennis player. But I don't see it that way.
As I've said here before, for a shy, overweight kid who rarely felt like he fit in anywhere, the tennis courts became like home to me. I was never great, but good enough to be respected, and respect can carry a person a long way. As I got older and was faced with the reality that tennis is never going to be more than a hobby that I'm extremely passionate about, I sort of refocused my energy on watching the professional game--namely the US Open every August/September. I tuned in to feel at home.
I remember the late 80's as people like Ivan Lendl, Mats Wilander, and Boris Becker captured the title. I watched as Andre Agassi won it for the first time in 1994. And then as Steffi Graf and Pete Sampras won in 1995 and 1996. I enjoyed the Patrick Rafter run in 1997 and Martina Hingis' first and only US Open championship that same year. And well...you get the idea. I watched them all and all of them are gone now that Hingis has retired.
That doesn't mean I don't enjoy the current players or appreciate Roger Federer. I do. And I'll keep watching. But the feeling of nostalgia sweeps over me when I think about the in between period--that time in my life when I transitioned from my wannabe tennis player phase to hey-I-can-still-enjoy-this-game-by-watching-others-play-it phase.
In the big scheme of things, none of this is that big a deal. I'm a sap when it comes to nostalgia. I realize that "the good ole' days weren't always good." And I'm certain that I'll loose too much sleep when the Australian Open begins in January. I'll cheer and jeer and will my favorite players on to victory (or maybe defeat), and I'll enjoy myself. But part of me will still be thinking about the in between period.
