SF Tennis Freak

Getty Images/AFP, Matthew Stockman

First, it was Marion Bartoli who caused me to have flashbacks with her surprise retirement in Cincinnati. This time it was James Blake whose retirement announcement, and subsequent remarks after his loss, brought back the intense emotions that go hand in hand with a final career goodbye.

True to his typical US Open form, Blake lost a 5-set heartbreaker, 6-7 (2), 3-6, 6-4, 7-6 (2), 7-6 (2), to Ivo Karlovic in the first round. In his on-court speech with Mary Jo Fernandez after the match, Blake was quintessential Blake: humble, unassuming, and appreciative of not only the moment, but also what tennis and its’ fans had given him over the years.

“There are a lot of people here that supported me,” Blake said, “And it’s hitting me now that I’m never gonna have this again in my life, and I need to appreciate every single one of you for being here.”

The crowd gave him an extended ovation for the acknowledgement. He continued:

“That ovation makes me realize that everything I did, every bit of hard work, was worth it. To play in front of you guys, and to do this for 14 years… If I’d just been playing in my backyard it wouldn’t have meant anything. But to do it in front of you guys — I had so many highs and lows in front of you — it really means… it’ll never be forgotten.”

When Marion announced her retirement, I understood the reasons why she chose to step away because of similar feelings I had when making the decision to retire as a professional dancer.  The same was true as I listened to James on-court statement, particularly when he said “I’m never gonna have this again”.

Those words transported me to ’98, and my final dance performance. After the last piece of the night was over, we prepared for the final bow. Since I finished in the center, I initiated the bow sequence. I looked to my right at all the dancers with whom I’d created such special bonds, years of memories flooding my senses, and joined hands with the dancer on my right. The only thought I had was, “I’ll never see this again.”

I did the same with the dancers on my left, and proceeded forward for the bow. I looked out at the audience, many of whom were cheering loudly because they knew that it was my farewell performance, and bit my lip in a futile attempt to hold back the tears. It was a surreal mix of relief and loss that’s still with me to this day.

Like James, I’d practiced my profession for fourteen years; with many highs and lows along the way. Through it all, I knew that I could always count on the support of the audience. Their presence gave me, and my art, a sense of purpose. Through the good reviews and the bad, the injuries and the excitement, they helped me more than they will ever know.

Unlike me, James kept it together for his final moment. But I guess that doesn’t really matter, does it? What matters is the totality of the career you had while laying it all on the line in front of your fans. It’s an amazing (and overwhelming) feeling when you get to the end, and see it all in front of you… and then realize that you’ll never see it again.