So happy to see that Marion Bartoli has announced her comeback to professional tennis.
I know, I know. She’s 33, nearly 34, almost four and a half years removed from the game, with very questionable fitness as of the last time she stepped on a court at a grand slam, yada yada yada. Who cares, really? That isn’t the point. I don’t think anybody with even a modicum of intelligence would suggest that she’ll ever be a threat to win another Major. She had her Clint Eastwood moment, walking off into the sunset a Slam Champion, like Flavia Pennetta. This is really about finding fulfilment, something that gives her joy and pleasure, and makes her happy. And you know what, if she plays a match, three matches, or five, or plays ten more years and never wins a single title, as long as she is happy and doing what she loves, that’s all that matters.
It was frightening beyond words seeing Marion in the physical state she was in a year or so ago, a skeletal ghost of herself. And so we should celebrate her desire to want to be part of tennis again, regardless of how we might think she’ll fare. She is always a great story, always an entertainer, always somepone it is a privilege to cheer, and I, for one, wish her every success. Even if that does not come, I hope she will find pure joy each day she steps foot on the court.