Wimble-don’t

I bet you can’t find a single tennis player who hasn’t fantasized about playing in Wimbledon. Even those who have never seen a tennis racquet in their lives have heard about the prestigious grass tournament. When I was eight years old, I remember looking at the screen and picturing my four-foot-tall self in an all-white dress playing Serena Williams in center court. It’s the dream.

This year’s Wimbledon though was, well, odd. Rafael Nadal was out by the first round. The greatest player of all time (in my very strong opinion), Roger Federer, had his earliest exit in a Grand Slam since 2003. Both Maria Sharapova and Serena Williams were ousted before the quarters. Tennis fans were left speechless. What was wrong with the world?

I’m one person who doesn’t take losses lightly. I remember that I couldn’t concentrate on an exam five years ago because I was devastated that Federer lost the Wimbledon final. After seeing all my favorites hang their heads in defeat one by one, I boycotted the whole thing. But as I was still mourning the second round loss of Federer, I turned on the TV and saw the women’s final. I was just in time to catch the last point. Marion Bartoli was the new women’s champion. She lived the dream. She doesn’t only get to say that she played in London’s famous grass courts, she gets to call herself the 2013 Wimbledon Champion. 

Intrigued, I wanted to search more about Marion Bartoli. As I was reading through commentaries about the final online, I ran across the comments of BBC radio announcer, John Inverdale:

“I just wonder if her dad, because he has obviously been the most influential person in her life, did say to her when she was 12, 13, 14 maybe, ‘Listen, you are never going to be, you know, a looker. You are never going to be somebody like Sharapova, you’re never going to be 5’11”, you’re never going to be somebody with long legs, so you have to compensate for that. You are going to have to be the most dogged, determined fighter that anyone has ever seen on the tennis court if you are going to make it,’ and she kind of is.”

I was appalled. There was Marion Bartoli hugging her father in the stands while this reporter implies that he told her teenage daughter that she’s never going to be pretty enough. It’s like telling your kid: “Hey, Son, you’re never going to be, you know, smart. You are never going to be somebody with a college diploma, so you have to compensate for that.” I haven’t felt that much outrage about anything in a long time.

I was never really rooting for anyone in the final, but you can now sign me up for the Marion Bartoli fan club. She is not what you would expect a tennis player to look like. I love Maria Sharapova, but she is like the Barbie of tennis. With her towering legs and cascading blonde hair, most people might conclude that this is the standard of what players should resemble. Wake-up call: a majority of women do not look like that. If she was the standard, 95 percent of us in the world are never going to be lookers.

I grew up playing the sport and I’ve met with some criticism along the way. I remember attending this camp and one of the coaches told me that I wasn’t right for the sport. He went on to say how I was too weak and too chubby. Well, I accepted these comments and worked harder because I was willing to do whatever it took to become better.

Marion Bartoli, on the other hand, showed beyond doubt that she has what it takes. She joined the most prestigious tournament in the world and played against the greats without even dropping a set. She finished it off and clearly dominated the final. Why, then, is this broadcaster treating her like she still needs to prove herself?

Maybe tennis is a cruel sport. Love means zero in the sport, right? But I can’t remember hearing anyone commentate with as much snark about a male player’s physical appearance before. Imagine the reaction if Maria Sharapova tugged at her skirt the same way Rafael Nadal does. It would be an outrage. It’s perplexing how the supermodel-esque Anna Kournikova who has never won a WTA Singles title is more famous than Justine Henine who has won 43. I’m not here to preach about feminism or people being sexist, but I just wonder why this double standard for men and women exists. The truth of the matter is, the mentality of the world is more judgmental about women’s looks. 

It’s not only in tennis where women are getting heat about their appearance. Adele may sell out stadiums and blow the world away with her pipes, but critics go on and on about how she should slim down. Kelly Clarkson sells millions of albums but all people count are the pounds she has gained since winning American Idol. No wonder so many teenager girls around the world are so insecure and things like the Tapeworm Diet exist. (Yes, people intentionally ingest worms to lose weight.) We give out this message that as long as you don’t have the perfect 18-inch waistline, then none of your talents matter. Where’s the beauty in that?

Marion’s technique might be unorthodox, but she sure can hit the hell out of the ball. She may have an unconventional sideways serve, but that didn’t stop her from capping her first Grand Slam win with an ace. Her double-fisted forehand and backhand bolt like a bullet on her returns. She is the proof that there is more than one way of playing superb tennis. Not only that, the living proof that there is more than one face of true beauty.

You say she’s not a looker, but on what basis? Because she doesn’t look like the girls on the cover posing for a Victoria’s Secret catalogue? Women like Marion Bartoli, Serena Williams or Li Na may not fit in your definition of a “looker,” but they are champions. They have achieved things that the rest of us can only dream about. I would rather be in the All England Tennis Club holding that trophy in front of millions of people rather than fit that misconstruction of beauty. Bartoli is a definitely a dogged and determined fighter. But besides that she is also beautiful. She is definitely on the list of tennis players that I look up to.

What does her father have to say in response to the radio announcer?

“She is my beautiful daughter. The relationship between Marion and me has always been unbelievable, so I don’t know what this reporter is talking about.”

Inverdale couldn’t have been more wrong.

Critics can say all they want, but who here has the Wimbledon trophy? The real winner here is Marion Bartoli. Game, set and match.