The Return of the Lord: The Resurgence of Bernard Tomic

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"FROM THE GROUND TO THE SKY." ONE LAST TIME.



Before reading this, set the mood, lower the lights, and put this track on in the background...


The screen stays dark for a long time.
No stadium noise. No crowd. No cameras. Just the slow, heavy, echoing bounce of a tennis ball on hardcourt.

Thud... thud... thud.

When the spotlight slowly bleeds through the darkness, it reveals a single baseline at midnight.
In the background, a 12-year-old boy in oversized clothes is hitting balls against the wall, over and over.
His eyes are bright, completely untouched by the world, burning with that pure passion of a kid who plays until the sun goes down.

Near the bench stands a 25-year-old man. World No. 17 at his peak. Flashy sports cars, total confidence, surrounded by noise, hype, and the world at his feet.

A few feet away stands a 33-year-old man today. Sweat-drenched plain shirt, wrapped knees, calloused hands.
He carries the silent miles of a decade spent in the shadows of remote Challengers.

The 33-year-old and the 25-year-old lock eyes for a silent moment.
The younger one nods gently toward the kid at the wall and whispers:
"Go. Go talk to him."

The 33-year-old walks slowly over to the wall. The kid stops hitting, wipes his forehead, and looks up.

"Are you alright?" the adult asks softly.
The kid squints, studying the tired face in front of him:
"Do I know you?"
The adult smiles, a little broken, a little gentle:
"Better than you think. I'm you... from the future."

The boy's eyes light up with pure excitement:
"So... did we make it? Did we achieve our dream of becoming a tennis player?"
"Of course," the adult replies softly.
"We made it."

The kid leans forward, his voice full of wonder:
"Do we still love tennis... from the ground to the sky?"
The adult closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, feeling the entire weight of his life:
"Even more than the sky."

The kid looks at him, bouncing on his feet, ready for the big question:
"Can I ask you something else? How old were we when we won the Australian Open?"

A heavy silence drops over the court. The adult lets out a long, quiet sigh, his head tilting down, looking at the hardcourt surface.

"Ah... that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," he says, his voice tinged with heartbreak. "We didn't win it, kid. Maybe we didn't always give 100%. A lot of things happened... that's just how life goes sometimes. Unfortunately... we couldn't do it."

The 33-year-old man looks deep into the boy's eyes, his voice steadying:
"That’s why I came all the way here tonight... to ask you just one question..."

He leans down, looking right into the kid's face:
"Do you want me to try one last time?"

Behind them, near the tunnel entrance, a car door shuts in the distance.

Footsteps echo against the concrete. Step... step... step.

The 25-year-old Bernard turns toward the shadows as a fourth figure steps into the spotlight.

The man stops right beside the 25-year-old. He doesn't say a word. He just stands there in absolute calm.

As the 25-year-old glances down at him, his eyes catch a brief, subtle detail.
The man is holding a heavy, cold silver object under his arm, partially covered by a dark cloth.

On the polished metal edge, a single beam of light strikes a long list of engraved years. The numbers run down the cold surface... 2019, 2020, 2021... down through the list, until the very last line, freshly carved, shining brighter than all the rest:
2027.

The 25-year-old stands completely frozen, his heart stopping, staring at those four digits.

Over by the wall, the ball rolls away across the hardcourt, coming to a complete stop.

And at that exact moment, the 12-year-old boy looks up into the eyes of the tired 33-year-old man, smiles brightly, and whispers:
"Yes."


P.S. For those wondering, the narrative concept and emotional pacing of this story were inspired by the Neymar Cinematic Video, while the "ground to the sky" quote comes directly from Bernard’s famous 2017 Interview.
 
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"FROM THE GROUND TO THE SKY." ONE LAST TIME.



Before reading this, set the mood, lower the lights, and put this track on in the background...


The screen stays dark for a long time.
No stadium noise. No crowd. No cameras. Just the slow, heavy, echoing bounce of a tennis ball on hardcourt.

Thud... thud... thud.

When the spotlight slowly bleeds through the darkness, it reveals a single baseline at midnight.
In the background, a 12-year-old boy in oversized clothes is hitting balls against the wall, over and over.
His eyes are bright, completely untouched by the world, burning with that pure passion of a kid who plays until the sun goes down.

Near the bench stands a 25-year-old man. World No. 17 at his peak. Flashy sports cars, total confidence, surrounded by noise, hype, and the world at his feet.

A few feet away stands a 33-year-old man today. Sweat-drenched plain shirt, wrapped knees, calloused hands.
He carries the silent miles of a decade spent in the shadows of remote Challengers.

The 33-year-old and the 25-year-old lock eyes for a silent moment.
The younger one nods gently toward the kid at the wall and whispers:
"Go. Go talk to him."

The 33-year-old walks slowly over to the wall. The kid stops hitting, wipes his forehead, and looks up.

"Are you alright?" the adult asks softly.
The kid squints, studying the tired face in front of him:
"Do I know you?"
The adult smiles, a little broken, a little gentle:
"Better than you think. I'm you... from the future."

The boy's eyes light up with pure excitement:
"So... did we make it? Did we achieve our dream of becoming a tennis player?"
"Of course," the adult replies softly.
"We made it."

The kid leans forward, his voice full of wonder:
"Do we still love tennis... from the ground to the sky?"
The adult closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, feeling the entire weight of his life:
"Even more than the sky."

The kid looks at him, bouncing on his feet, ready for the big question:
"Can I ask you something else? How old were we when we won the Australian Open?"

A heavy silence drops over the court. The adult lets out a long, quiet sigh, his head tilting down, looking at the hardcourt surface.

"Ah... that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," he says, his voice tinged with heartbreak. "We didn't win it, kid. Maybe we didn't always give 100%. A lot of things happened... that's just how life goes sometimes. Unfortunately... we couldn't do it."

The 33-year-old man looks deep into the boy's eyes, his voice steadying:
"That’s why I came all the way here tonight... to ask you just one question..."

He leans down, looking right into the kid's face:
"Do you want me to try one last time?"

Behind them, near the tunnel entrance, a car door shuts in the distance.

Footsteps echo against the concrete. Step... step... step.

The 25-year-old Bernard turns toward the shadows as a fourth figure steps into the spotlight.

The man stops right beside the 25-year-old. He doesn't say a word. He just stands there in absolute calm.

As the 25-year-old glances down at him, his eyes catch a brief, subtle detail.
The man is holding a heavy, cold silver object under his arm, partially covered by a dark cloth.

On the polished metal edge, a single beam of light strikes a long list of engraved years. The numbers run down the cold surface... 2019, 2020, 2021... down through the list, until the very last line, freshly carved, shining brighter than all the rest:
2027.

The 25-year-old stands completely frozen, his heart stopping, staring at those four digits.

Over by the wall, the ball rolls away across the hardcourt, coming to a complete stop.

And at that exact moment, the 12-year-old boy looks up into the eyes of the tired 33-year-old man, smiles brightly, and whispers:
"Yes."


P.S. For those wondering, the narrative concept and emotional pacing of this story were inspired by the Neymar Cinematic Video, while the "ground to the sky" quote comes directly from Bernard’s famous 2017 Interview.
Always knew Rafter was a fraud :)

Wanted to add that I enjoyed the write up as well :)
 
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Came back to check that at least a few were feeling the Bern. Gonna try to watch a bit more than the highlights I've seen on socials. Still smearing that FH too.
 
Came back to check that at least a few were feeling the Bern. Gonna try to watch a bit more than the highlights I've seen on socials. Still smearing that FH too.
I’m still waiting for it to start. Fortunately I don’t have any plans early tomorrow lol
 
Not looking good fellas. Down 2 breaks in first set 4-1. Seems what I was worried about is happening. He’s trying to hit through Norrie, and he’s making too many errors. Not really working the point before attacking.
 
He hit so many unforced errors!
Norrie wasn't messing around (as usual).
So the pressure was on..

If all of Tomic's near misses had gone in he'd have won :-D , but then Norrie would have got to many of them and Tomic couldn't have handled that anyway.

Hitting as flat as he does, he really has to be on it totally to do well.
It's very effect when things are going in. But...
 
He hit so many unforced errors!
Norrie wasn't messing around (as usual).
So the pressure was on..

If all of Tomic's near misses had gone in he'd have won :-D , but then Norrie would have got to many of them and Tomic couldn't have handled that anyway.

Hitting as flat as he does, he really has to be on it totally to do well.
It's very effect when things are going in. But...

Norrie is a relentless grinder so he is a bad match-up for Tomic.
 
Just couldn’t keep the ball in play. I think he was going for the big shots too soon a lot of times. He didn’t need to get into long rallies by any means, but maybe hitting at least a few extra shots to set up the big FH might have had more success. Hopefully he’ll bounce back. He moved up the rankings at least.
 
bagels-breadsticks-isolated-white-background-53496368.jpg
 
Lord Bernie’s March Continues

Another battle in the books for Lord Bernie. Dropping a tight opening tiebreak didn't stop Tomić from finding his groove, shifting the momentum, and grinding down Edward Winter in three sets to lock in his spot in the Round of 16.

* $1,740 USD guaranteed & 6 ATP Points added
 
Looked at the Shanghai qualies draw through a pounding hangover.

Bernard beat Skatov. Straight sets. First Masters 1000 main draw in seven long years.

While the rest of the tour sweats, starves, and acts like robots, Bernie strolls in straight from the Challenger mud, barely breaks a sweat, and drops effortless slices to remind everyone who the real genius is.

Ten wins in his last fourteen. He doesn't give a damn about their rankings—he just felt like playing.

Pour a stiff drink tonight, gentlemen. Lord Tomic is in the main draw.
All hail the Lord. Cheers.
 
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