An open letter to Lleyton Hewitt

Lleyton Hewitt

Society thrives on nostalgia. Human beings have this innate ability to look back at something and overlook the negatives. Woody Allen, in Midnight in Paris, discusses this in great extent and attributes this longing-ness for the past, to a strong desire to escape from one’s reality.

Bursting onto the scene as a young surly teenager, it was fairly evident that you danced, albeit awkwardly, to your own beat. Supporting you was like the proverbial rollercoaster. Each match ebbed and flowed, and it seemed you thrived in testing circumstances.  Your powers of reserve, the ability to dig deep and fight till the bitter end are the stuff of legend.

People seldom recall, that between the Sampras’s/ Agassi’s and today’s golden generation there was a brief two year period where the Tennis world was at your feet. It is remarkable that at the age of 20, you had already established yourself as a Top 10 player. But there was something far more significant waiting in the wings. In a supreme display, the likes of which were unimaginable, you blew away the best player of the preceding generation. Pete Sampras walked on to Arthur Ashe, in 2001 with the knowledge that he was presented with a wonderful opportunity to add to his grand slam haul.

No one was prepared for the absolute beating you handed out to him. It was some of the cleanest returning one can hope to witness. But you were not exactly the most popular champion. Your antics on court, your band of Aussie supporters and the like seemed to infuriate most. The Argentines, in particular, would surely attest to that.

But on the back of your gusto, indomitable spirit and feistiness you ended the year as the youngest World No. 1 in the sport’s history. You went onto dominate the game for the next couple of years, even storming to the Wimbledon crown the next year without even dropping a set. It seemed at the time that you were the ultimate counter puncher, who could go on forever, outlasting his opponents on a nightly basis. We all wondered how many more slams you would eventually rack up.

But then a new era was being ushered in. Players who hit a heavy ball could more often than not hit you off the court. But you still hung in there. You hustled and fought till the very end. It was simultaneously both your most endearing and your most exasperating quality. These qualities helped you reach another two finals in the majors but ultimately you came up short. Nevertheless, before the emergence of the likes of Nadal and Djokovic, you along with the likes of Andy Roddick led the way in trying to somehow stop Federer’s juggernaut, but to no avail.

Your fans loved watching you harry these big young studs into submission but alas, your body started to give in. The surgeries, the pain endured and all the tribulations that you had to endure can be scarcely imagined.