Naomi Osaka is All of Us in the Pandemic
We’ve experienced a collective existential crisis these past 18 months — why are we surprised when a tennis star does as well?
When the BNP Paribas Open at Indian Wells kicks off this week, former champion Naomi Osaka won’t be among the contenders. If you’ve been listening, it shouldn’t come as a surprise.
After all, following her defeat at the US Open last month, Osaka ended her mandatory press conference by tearfully announcing that she would take a break from tennis, citing a need to unravel her mixed emotions.
“I feel like for me recently, like, when I win I don’t feel happy. I feel more like a relief. And then when I lose, I feel very sad. I don’t think that’s normal,” Osaka said. “I’m kind of at this point where I’m trying to figure out what I want to do, and I honestly don’t know when I’m going to play my next tennis match. Sorry…I think I’m going to take a break from playing for a while.”
On Tuesday, Osaka dropped out of the Top 10 for the first time in three years.
When I watched her Netflix limited series last spring, I was struck by the pains that the director (and presumably Osaka herself) took to depict the tennis life as a grind. Obviously, being a world-class athlete is a job that takes incredible dedication and hard work, day-in and day-out, and the series made no effort to gloss over it. Tennis truly looked like a slog.
Osaka, who is known for being introspective, chooses her words carefully each time she’s on camera and gives us a fleeting glimpse of the questions that loom large for her. A particularly revealing moment comes when she ruminates on finding her self-worth primarily through tennis. At one point, she wonders aloud: what am I if I’m not a good tennis player?
It’s common to hear athletes say they can’t imagine doing anything else and it’s easy to interpret that statement to mean they wouldn’t consider doing anything else — that life wouldn’t be complete without their chosen sport.
But the same statement can mean the polar opposite: that they literally cannot imagine what else they would do. In many cases, like Osaka, they’ve spent their entire lives training to reach the pinnacle of their sport, only to feel like something is missing. They are simply doing the thing that they are good at, not the thing that makes them feel good.
As the pandemic has taught all of us, life is short. Nothing is promised. Many people are being more intentional in how they spend their time, seeking out the things that bring joy or deeper meaning to their lives.
Now imagine doing that in the public eye.
It’s often said that to play tennis well, you can’t think. Though tennis requires tactical prowess and problem-solving skills, those endless reps on the practice court are designed to build muscle memory so that during a match, you play without thinking.
What’s at stake then, when you are a deep thinker, like Osaka?
In our culture, where the relentless pursuit of excellence is extolled, stepping back from the brink is seen as a weakness. But by stepping away from tennis, Osaka has given us all something bigger to think about.
She has sparked a conversation about mental health and work, and the particular stresses of the tennis tour. Fellow players Mardy Fish, Nick Kyrgios, and Slone Stephens are just a few players who have since talked openly about their own mental health struggles or voiced support for Osaka’s push back.
Osaka’s actions have also had a ripple effect beyond tennis. Distance runner Alexi Pappas recently mentioned that Osaka gave her the courage to listen to her own body and take time away from running to attend to a chronic injury that had plagued her with pain for years.
One of life’s many conundrums is that the things that come easy don’t always bring happiness. We have been lucky enough to see Osaka playing at her zenith, in full flight, dazzling with her natural talent. But she doesn’t owe us, the broader public or her fans, anything. She has a right to self-determination and real joy, just like you and me. If tennis is bringing her more stress than happiness, she owes it to herself to find out why.
Perhaps, in time, she will find a deeper meaning and purpose through tennis. (Her impressive run to the title at the US Open last year showed us that when she is playing with a larger purpose in mind — in that case, bringing wider awareness racial justice and gun violence — she’s nearly unstoppable.)
But there’s a good possibility Osaka might step away permanently. Life on the tennis tour is unrelenting. It can be a slog and a grind — especially now, inside pandemic bubbles and empty stadiums. If her heart’s not in it, I would imagine it could feel pretty hollow at the end of the day.
When she posed the question, what am I if I’m not a good tennis player? I wanted to give her my answer: You are a deep thinker, a sensitive soul and tough as nails. You are a daughter, a sister, a friend. You can be anything you set your mind to.
