Watching Naomi Osaka take to a tennis court these days still feels like a spectacle, even if her game isn’t what it once was. Her looks are iconic, however fleeting they are. You’re fairly certain you’re about to witness an early round loss from a player that used to be a contender but it’s not outside the realms of possibility that she might just surprise you and so you stick around. The game’s moved on a bit from her but not so far that it feels out of reach. Her defeats to players ranked within the top 10 still feel newsworthy. Her game, as powerful as it ever was, lacks the consistency that’s necessary at this level and so, as her opponents creep away from her over the course of a match, you find yourself wishing for an uncertain point in the weeks, months, years to come in which she manages to find it again.
Osaka’s defeat to the world number 10 Paula Badosa in a three setter in this year’s French Open opening round felt like the sort of result that tennis fanatics would argue should be expected by now and yet, casuals will stop and stare at. The reality is that Osaka’s prime years were over so quickly, with so much achieved in so little time, that people that watch only the later stages of these biggest of tournaments still recall her fondly. It seems unfathomable that these sorts of matches should be normalised now so soon after those highlights. Her press conference following this particular loss was emotional and required a brief intermission while she composed herself:
Still in her 20s, Osaka is already eyeing the clock. For so lonely a sport, tennis frequently asks its players to question the impact it’s having on the ones they surround themselves with. It’s an unfair pressure that demands self-awareness and rewards it only with further worries. Winning her first clay court title recently at Challenger level will have left her feeling quietly confident about her form coming into this tournament. As good a player as Badosa is, her career tells a familiar story of someone not quite capable of winning these tournaments, a typical mould Osaka has repeatedly proven that she doesn’t fit. Indeed, this was a winnable match, evidenced by how close it ended up being, Badosa lifting her game above Osaka’s in the closing stages of a third set that shifted and shifted again before finally settling.
There’s something quite endearing about Osaka’s apparent problem with chasing a past version of herself. Those of us trying to recreate magic from better days can relate, even if we can’t even begin to understand the layers of complexity that come with giving birth and then trying to return to professional sport. She’s not necessarily unhappier now then she was then but she was winning more, playing more engaging tennis that felt more meaningful – to us as fans, for sure, but also, clearly, to her.
She’s also entered dangerous territory of being visibly shaken by how she might possibly be perceived by those she relies on to help her. Self-doubt is such a uniquely human trait that professional athletes like to hide away beneath layers of performative lines drilled into them from the early stages of careers that promise little and reward less. It’s how they cope. Osaka – softly spoken and careful with her words – has refreshingly allowed fans frequent glimpses of who she is and what she stands for. All of this enables us to gain a far better sense of what she wants us to understand as her motivations. As well as this works to humanise her, to grow her fanbase far beyond the numbers of some of her fellow players, it can also leave her feeling open and perhaps a little bit too vulnerable in moments of weakness. Her expectations for her tennis have clearly outgrown what she’s currently able to provide. She falls in matches like this and on the way down, meets only her own internalised guilt for not performing. Those in her box watch on, wanting what’s best for her, not knowing that it’s that very desire that’s causing her such angst. Scared of what everyone else is thinking, she disappoints only herself.
Embed from Getty ImagesLate last year, Osaka hinted that she may not want to hang around the tour as an active player if her results don’t improve and in her press conference yesterday afternoon, she mentioned how unexpectedly slow this process was proving to be. This sense of needing to rush back, to hurry her game into an acceptable formation to enable her to reach the level she wants to be at, is hugely detrimental while her ranking restricts her tournaments to first, second and third round matchups she isn’t the favorite to win anymore. Further doubt as time goes on beckons, a vicious cycle that even the very best tennis coaches can’t come up with a game-plan for.
She has more time than she realises. In comparing herself against marks she simply can’t hit at the moment, she risks limiting her game further. Her lofty expectations are immediate and now but her fear of failing threaten to crush her out of the sport she’s still capable of achieving things in longer term. Everyone knows tennis stops for no-one but Osaka has the sort of game to make it question what it stands to lose out on if she leaves early.
Popcorn Tennis 