There is no place like home, unless you’re Samantha Stosur. With eyes of the entire Australian Open continent upon her, Stosur crashed out of the Australian Open in the 1st round in straight sets to Romanian player, Sorana Cristea. You can’t help but feel for Stosur, the pressure had been mounting since the season started. After her convincing win over Serena Williams at the U.S. Open last fall, expectations were high-probably too high. You could sense how tense Stosur was during the match. Her serve lacked bite, her groundstrokes were erratic and her movement was slow. The huge partisan Aussie crowd lived and died over each point. When Stosur hit her final forehand error on match point, there was a moment of stunned silence.
Now is the time where I’m supposed to congratulate Cristea for gutsy play. In her brief career, the by-line on her was that she has a ton of talent, but she’s been unable to close out the big matches. She did just that yesterday. She was fearless and yet kept it together when it counted. Her screaming forehand at deuce point during the final game was the perfect combination of guile and bravery. A very good effort on her part.
Back to Sam, shall we? Her post match press conference was heartbreaking. Kudos to her for keeping it together and handling the loss with grace. I know I couldn’t do that. I’ll admit it right here and now, I’m a sore loser and a worse winner. Hmmm, maybe that has something to do with why I was always picked last for kickball. Anyhoo, that sense of sadness turned to anger when I saw the pictures of the headlines blaring in the Australian newspapers. “This is how you do it, Sam!” they screamed while having a picture of a despondent Stosur placed next another Australian (well, this year at least) Jelena Dokic. “Stosur’s Meltdown!”, “Sam Sunk!” and on and on. Even though I’m not a huge fan of Stosur, I felt horrible for her because I’m human and Stosur is human too.
Sometimes I think the sports press forgets that the athletes they follow relentlessly are indeed carbon based organisms. To place so much pressure on an athlete has a price for both parties. For the athlete, it entails constant scrutiny and for the press it means possible overkill and dashed hopes. The remedy however, is to not make matters worse by making fun of the athlete. I know that Australia hasn’t had an Australian citizen win the championship in decades, but they might want to chill with the hype. Lleyton Hewitt was the top ranked male player and winner of the U.S. Open and Wimbledon, but he couldn’t quite get it done in Melbourne. Now there’s Sam Stosur who probably hasn’t even had to polish her U.S. Open trophy yet, succumbing to the expectations of her countrymen and women. There might be a lesson to be learned there.
I can only imagine how the players from the U.K, France, Australia, and the U.S. feel. To win a slam on the home front is a monumental achievement and yet so few have been able to do so. Although I love the Grand Slams for their drama, I can’t help but cringe a bit for Andy Murray, Jo-Wilfred Tsonga, Gael Monfils, Richard Gasquet, Marion Bartoli, The Williams Sisters, Mardy Fish, Andy Roddick, Bernard Tomic, and Casey Dellaqua. That’s because I knew the heat of the spotlight is just a bit hotter for them and the defeats are just that much more bitter. It’s not the kind of feeling you want at home.
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