Queen of Grass
ALISHA SULLIVAN
If you blink too slowly, you miss grass court season.
For a lot of people, they’re fine with that because the grass is a fickle beast. For Naomi, it’s always been her favourite two months. This grass court season, she reached another level with a new title to her name, a successful defence of a title, a runner-up trophy, and the Big One.
I was paying exactly zero attention to the on-court ceremony as it happened because I was using the patchy service to watch the TV coverage, as there is nothing better than watching the great unveiling of Naomi’s name on the board. It’s there five times now.
This time last year, Naomi was lying on the floor (we have a great rug in our living room, but also, Logan had fallen asleep on her thigh and well, you know you can’t rouse a dog who has deigned you important enough to sleep on) watching the Women’s Final and genuinely wondering if she had done the right thing returning to the sport.
It was coming off the back of her having to withdraw because of a period, and even though she was hitting again by the time the finals were on, she was still feeling very sorry for herself.
It’s a little hard to believe that the same woman now has another Wimbledon title under her belt.
I mean, I don’t know why I’m surprised. This woman took three years off from playing tennis competitively (she picked up a racquet at uni but didn’t play full matches), and when she arrived on the tour, she shot up the rankings at a rate of knots.
She has always been very good at doing things that, on paper, sound like they shouldn’t be possible.
This Wimbledon seemed to be full of a lot of things happening that shouldn’t be possible.
Perhaps my favourite impossible thing from this tournament was her having to play her singles quarter-final match on Wednesday to make the semis, then playing said semi on Thursday, against Lois of all people (what a delightful and completely unstressful match that was…), to just roll on into her mixed doubles final mere hours later, early Thursday evening.
Again, I ask, where does she find the energy?
(I’m partially responsible for that, given that I’m the one primarily in charge of most of her meals and snacks.)
She’d never been so grateful for a Friday off in her life.
Usually, her Grand Slam final prep is very involved and, from the outside, seems complicated. But this time around, she spent it mostly horizontal because Wyatt had one word for her, and it was rest. Plus, he was a little bit occupied with another semi-final.
Clearly, it worked in her favour.
Because Naomi Sullivan is now a fifteen-time Grand Slam champion.
Now, we turn our attention to that small, quiet tournament, the Madrid Olympics.
Until next time, from my kitchen.