Happy Valentine's Day Tennis People

Is it best to partner up or go it alone...

Happy Valentine's Day…

Traditionally a day set aside for loved ones to express their affection with flowers, cards, and confections, Valentine's Day's origin remains a bit murky. Historians have identified numerous early Christian martyrs named Valentine, but good luck finding any amorous elements among them. Figures. It turns out Valentine's Day is a historic case of romantic idealization. Leave it to the fools of love to see something in someone that was never there.

Not everyone feels the love for Cupid’s arrow. Reasons vary: a tough break-up, losing the one that got away, years and years of alimony, knowing what a dissomaster is. But it often depends on one’s wiring, whether they see the world through a romantic or a classical point of view. The pop-psychology hit Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance tackled this dynamic duality some years back. Early in the novel, the central action involves a cross-country motorcycle trip among lifelong friends. Several were immediately excited. The idea of freedom, gorgeous vistas, the whistling wind blowing through one’s hair, a nonconforming broad margin to every day, a liberation from the shackles of routine. Others were not so excited. Miles and miles of tedium, heat, bugs, incessant noise, flat tires and broken chains, to say nothing of hours and hours of discomfort riding double on an incredibly sore ass.

Same event, wildly different responses… What gives here?

It being Valentine’s Day, allow me to apply this classical/romantic paradigm to the dating world.

We’re quick to romanticize the single life. Bars dedicate nights to them; Bachelorettes bedazzle on Nashville’s Broadway. Dating Apps entice all to scroll and swipe; swipe right on Mr. or Ms. Right, and your life may become complete. It worked for us!!!

We Met On Tinder

The single life. Its independence over codependence. From an outsider's perspective (likely someone in a struggling relationship), the single lifestyle overflows with mystique and mystery. Singles inspire TV reality series; apartments are designed and named for them...(they call them 'pads'.. oh!! like their lives are so glamorous they can't be troubled with yards and kitchens..)... These solo flyers even make lists of their most eligible, with rankings no less!! Let me know when you see the rankings for the most happily married. But we observers are a fickle bunch. How soon we move on from the intrigues of the single player when they enter the ranks of the partnered.

The best and the most beautiful who have adorned such lists- footballer Tom Brady, tennis Lolita Anna Kournikova, Michael B Jordan, Prince William and all his fellow Royals- their every move held up under the microscope of public scrutiny. Why do we care so? Is it our collective delusion that somehow we could complete their lives? Or are we fascinated by those who traverse the minefield of being single and available over the security of the partnered life? To be single, free to come and go as one pleases, to date as many and as often as you like, to not be responsible or accountable to another, to do whatever you want whenever you want—it just sounds so bloody romantic.

Alas, at the end of the solitaire's day, there is another classical side of their story, and the solo flyer likely tells this tale. They rarely cook, for they often lack the most essential ingredient to a great meal: someone to share it with. They make their beds by themselves, if at all, their king- or queen-size beds with a conspicuous absence, a vacancy, an unslept upon pillow a mere foot from their own. A crease soon develops in their slept-upon-mattress, one right down the middle. For there's no your side or my side when you’re single; it's all your side when you sleep alone.

Yes, for all of being single’s romantic allures, there is no shortage of lackings in this seemingly desirable state. To have no one to say goodnight to or bring you coffee in the morning, no silly pillow talk, or one to share your day with, everyone who catches your eye is either in a relationship or emotionally unavailable. It's a minefield out there, you singles. Seek shelter from the dating storm. But if your sustained singleness is a choice, if there are any 'Six Feet Under' fans among you, the character Brenda said it best." If you're going to spend the rest of your life alone, you better be really fucking interesting.”

No, even if we are uber-interesting, obscenely overeducated, evolved, enlightened, wiser than a tree full of owls, there comes a moment in every single’s life to trade it in for a special someone. In a way, singles become grown-up toys, fun, dynamic, unique playthings. But at the risk of sounding cliche, toys are so much more fun when you have someone to share them with...hence, we seek our forever somebody, our perfect compliment, for try as we may to avoid finding our ideal partner, the quest for completion through connectedness is one of the most fundamental of all human needs.

Our tennis world has some thoughts about the singles life.

Professional tennis is no stranger to this classical/romantic duality. Let’s take the lionizing mystique of the professional singles player. We know the singles rankings quite well. The major count, the GOAT debate. Could you tell me who the world's number one doubles player is? I couldn't either; had to look it up. (Marcela Averala El Salvador, by the way...so little love for those who choose not to go it alone.

Tennis’ elite singles players, globetrotting the world, playing the sport we love at levels unimaginable, making generational money before an endless stream of adoring fans. It’s personal achievement at its highest level, all the hard work, all the sacrifice, to stand atop the podium alone and victorious. It's a dream, it's romantic, it's the ultimate Ayn Rand fantasy, a solo accomplishment not dependent upon anybody or anything but your own hard work and skills. And all the spoils are yours.. except the barrage of foreign and domestic taxes upon your winning check. (sorry, Randers)

But like the life of the single player, the life of the singles player has its not-so-romantic angle. Only the uber-successful have teams. The downside realities of long, soul-crushing travel, living out of a suitcase, bad weeks where you head home early, slumps where you can’t catch a break-laundry to sort through come week's end- to decide whether to wash it or chuck it all and start over... countless hours of downtime in strange foreign lands, away from family, friends, pets and home, where one's income is dependent on one's success, and one's success is dependent upon the intangibles of health, ability, and not drawing Alcaraz or Sinner in the first round too often.

Tour life can be lonely, only the most successful can afford an entourage. Often, at the end of a successful week, pro tennis players return to their hotels alone- not because they are loners but because there is no one left in town to celebrate with- no one to chest bump upon victory, for by tourney's end, your peers have already moved on to the next port, to the next city, passport stamped, another time zone, another climate and court surface to adjust to, language to negotiate, flights to change, currency to exchange, culture to learn, cuisine to stomach, only to forget it all come weeks end, where they travel en masse to the next event and the cycle starts all over again. Tennis players, by nature nomadic and loners, prefer the solitude life of going it alone, but it can be precarious- the next step from being a loner alone is being alone and lonely, and frankly, that just ain't all that fun.

Hence the appeal of tennis' journeyman singles players, whose fire to win Major singles titles near extinguished, seeking the support and comfort of a doubles partner as they continue to pursue the only income-earning vocation they know, professional tennis.

In tennis, as in dating, one can only go it alone for so long. Now, getting on in years, our singles heroes have surrendered in the war, which is professional tennis. No longer at the top of their games or willing to continue the sacrifice elite singles play requires, they're still in the game but with an altered approach. They seek a little support, not necessarily needing an entourage or a village, but a partner, a like-minded other, a one-person support system, on and off the court. The partnered tennis life is still full and rich, but it is tennis’ halfway house, leaving some room to ponder other options as they prepare for their post-tennis lives. They are no longer a one-man band on a mission, traveling the globe seeking personal fame and fortune in our sport of tennis. That time has passed- just like all of the chosen ones on our most available bachelor list; though the desire and drive for personal achievements is noble, at its core, it is finite.

We mortal tennis players are not that different. We take lessons, work out, attend camps, and join clubs, teams, and leagues, hoping to become the complete players and every tennis player's dream: to be a desired partner, someone people want to play against or, better yet, want to play with. Aren't we all just searching for our perfect match?

It's Valentine's Day Today, a celebration of all things love, partnered, and romantic. Romantic love exists upon a spectrum. Some of us are lying dormant; some burn with the fire within, some of us are in remission, other are sitting on the sidelines, waiting patiently to jump back in. Fret not your current state in the game; reflect upon the last 10 Valentine's days in your life. The only constant for most of us is that nothing is constant in love. It is a conundrum, a highly fluid, mysterious force that comes as inexplicably as it goes. But don’t lose hope, you romantics; it’s all up and downhill from here. Keep your mating game sharp wherever you reside on the spectrum, and that Cupid guy will keep paying you regular visits, maybe even with that perfect death til we part match.

Happy Valentine's Day to you all...