As the tennis season approaches its zenith heading into the second week of Wimbledon, I’ve been lucky enough to be thrust into a three-day lockdown in my hometown of Brisbane. I say lucky because we have—for the most part—observed the Covid pandemic from a place of warm and sunny immunity; while the world was ravaged by the millions, Queenslanders have slipped and dodged each threatening variant and local case by whatever fortuitous trait our environment seems to possess. As a tennis coach this has meant two things: no lessons, and plenty of Wimbledon. Afternoon music and drinks flow nicely into the 8pm start time on outside courts; snacks and tea and live score tracking continues late into the night. Drizzly mornings have made the coffee and endless match highlights all the more justified, before cosily perusing the following night’s order of play. Yes, I can safely say that Wimbledon has proved a very soothing balm to government’s most recent overreach, and I welcome all future hasty lockdowns if chaperoned by Grand Slam tennis.
The kernel of this essay was born out of a chance viewing of Elvis Presley’s ‘Suspicious Minds’ during yesterday's afternoon of Pet Nat and cards. YouTube’s algorithm doesn’t have to be all that smart to suggest such a clip; Live in Las Vegas, 'The King' was pure energy and entertainment. Check it out below:
I had always been somewhat familiar with Elvis, I'd heard his songs and experienced all the cultural references that still reverberate well into this century, but I had never bothered to sit down and experience Elvis. For me, this was one of those rare eureka moments where the goosebumps come on and a little smile breaks out across your face as you realise what you've missed, but can now plainly see; greatness.
I’m sure most of you are familiar with his songs and the words to those songs, and listening to Elvis purr through a rock 'n roll number is up there with the all-time great musical experiences, but what elevated Elvis beyond his music was how he performed those songs; Elvis witnessed was something completely over and above Elvis heard.
Is it a perfect performance? Probably not, the King is sweaty and out of breath as he jolts his body through the drums, and he's clearly on some marching powder (as he alludes to at 0:53 seconds). By this stage in his career Elvis is a falling messiah, the casino his temple, which only served to make his fans shout with even more adoration. The energy and style is fully felt in his fist-shaking, gyrating mess of hair and leather. Watching carefully, much of the performance is ad libbed—he riffs off of the crowd and teases the other musicians. The song becomes less of a recital and more of a feeling, and I think that was a big part of what captivated people. That bundle of voice, looks, charm, and spontaneous energy was once-in-a-lifetime. In the end, showbiz nailed him to a cross of his own making, and he died well before his time.
And so I went about my night with this Elvis performance turning over in my head, wondering what it had to do with other things, and tennis of course, which inevitably leads to the Big 3 and the never-ending GOAT debate. Everyone has an opinion. Some say there is no GOAT (an argument I can get around), and some say it's player (x) because of
and (z). I do like to hear what the pros think on the matter, and ahead of his second-round clash with Roger Federer, Richard Gasquet offered this timely gem on the Swiss maestro:
"He's the best player of course. His technique is amazing. Sometimes we are talking a lot about the best player in history or something like that and wonder who will win the most Grand Slams. But of course there are other things. There is technique, the beauty of the game, the motion. He's a classic player, he's an incredible player, the best player to watch. There is only one Roger Federer."
Of course the Frenchman with flair says that technique and beauty matter! The Djokovic fans firmly disagree; it is purely a numbers game, and his odds of ending up on top are looking very good indeed. Like Elvis, Roger is also a falling messiah, the centre court of Wimbledon his temple, as he looks to turn back time for one more Slam. His once untouchable record now rests on the racquet of not one, but two of his main rivals.
I'll preface this next part by saying that, as a coach, I think Djokovic is the best player of all-time. Rafa on clay is in his own category, and that is the highest peak in tennis that I've ever seen, but across 52-weeks of the year, Djokovic comes out on top. He's too solid. He's almost too professional . And what I mean by that is he's taken his game to a level of efficiency and completeness that is hard to appreciate for the lay tennis punter who tunes in casually. Fans want to see something exciting, that's ultimately what sport is, it's just another form of entertainment; risk, improvisation, intensity, contrast. What you get with Djokovic is a masterclass in percentage tennis. It's calculated, ruthless, and incredibly athletic, but it's hard to appreciate depth and subtle changes of direction compared to, say, a flick one-handed backhand with that crucified finish, or a running snap forehand that Rafa curls in from the stands with that trademark high whipped swing.
The kernel of this essay was born out of a chance viewing of Elvis Presley’s ‘Suspicious Minds’ during yesterday's afternoon of Pet Nat and cards. YouTube’s algorithm doesn’t have to be all that smart to suggest such a clip; Live in Las Vegas, 'The King' was pure energy and entertainment. Check it out below:
I had always been somewhat familiar with Elvis, I'd heard his songs and experienced all the cultural references that still reverberate well into this century, but I had never bothered to sit down and experience Elvis. For me, this was one of those rare eureka moments where the goosebumps come on and a little smile breaks out across your face as you realise what you've missed, but can now plainly see; greatness.
I’m sure most of you are familiar with his songs and the words to those songs, and listening to Elvis purr through a rock 'n roll number is up there with the all-time great musical experiences, but what elevated Elvis beyond his music was how he performed those songs; Elvis witnessed was something completely over and above Elvis heard.
Is it a perfect performance? Probably not, the King is sweaty and out of breath as he jolts his body through the drums, and he's clearly on some marching powder (as he alludes to at 0:53 seconds). By this stage in his career Elvis is a falling messiah, the casino his temple, which only served to make his fans shout with even more adoration. The energy and style is fully felt in his fist-shaking, gyrating mess of hair and leather. Watching carefully, much of the performance is ad libbed—he riffs off of the crowd and teases the other musicians. The song becomes less of a recital and more of a feeling, and I think that was a big part of what captivated people. That bundle of voice, looks, charm, and spontaneous energy was once-in-a-lifetime. In the end, showbiz nailed him to a cross of his own making, and he died well before his time.
And so I went about my night with this Elvis performance turning over in my head, wondering what it had to do with other things, and tennis of course, which inevitably leads to the Big 3 and the never-ending GOAT debate. Everyone has an opinion. Some say there is no GOAT (an argument I can get around), and some say it's player (x) because of
and (z). I do like to hear what the pros think on the matter, and ahead of his second-round clash with Roger Federer, Richard Gasquet offered this timely gem on the Swiss maestro:"He's the best player of course. His technique is amazing. Sometimes we are talking a lot about the best player in history or something like that and wonder who will win the most Grand Slams. But of course there are other things. There is technique, the beauty of the game, the motion. He's a classic player, he's an incredible player, the best player to watch. There is only one Roger Federer."
Of course the Frenchman with flair says that technique and beauty matter! The Djokovic fans firmly disagree; it is purely a numbers game, and his odds of ending up on top are looking very good indeed. Like Elvis, Roger is also a falling messiah, the centre court of Wimbledon his temple, as he looks to turn back time for one more Slam. His once untouchable record now rests on the racquet of not one, but two of his main rivals.
I'll preface this next part by saying that, as a coach, I think Djokovic is the best player of all-time. Rafa on clay is in his own category, and that is the highest peak in tennis that I've ever seen, but across 52-weeks of the year, Djokovic comes out on top. He's too solid. He's almost too professional . And what I mean by that is he's taken his game to a level of efficiency and completeness that is hard to appreciate for the lay tennis punter who tunes in casually. Fans want to see something exciting, that's ultimately what sport is, it's just another form of entertainment; risk, improvisation, intensity, contrast. What you get with Djokovic is a masterclass in percentage tennis. It's calculated, ruthless, and incredibly athletic, but it's hard to appreciate depth and subtle changes of direction compared to, say, a flick one-handed backhand with that crucified finish, or a running snap forehand that Rafa curls in from the stands with that trademark high whipped swing.
