The Time of My Life
NAOMI SULLIVAN
Surprise!
It’s me, Naomi.
After countless requests (or so Alisha says), you are hearing straight from the horse’s mouth (why yes, I have seen the comparisons of my face to a horse’s, which, while I think was supposed to be an insult, always served as a reminder that horses faces are attached to, well, horses and they aren’t to be fucked with).
Also, surprise, there will be profanity in this.
I am not a seasoned pro like my sister, and sometimes only a ‘fuck’ will do.
When I thought about the best place for me to make something that I’ve known to be true for the last thirteen months official, I knew there was nowhere I would rather make the announcement.
A place that has felt like a safe space for as long as it’s been around.
So, here it goes.
I am retiring from professional tennis.
It feels weird to see the sentence written out like that.
Like I said, I’ve known since I came back to the tour that the Olympics were going to be my final tournament.
One of the hardest parts about being a professional athlete is that the sport you’re choosing to dedicate your life (and body) to will not last forever.
It can’t. Unless, maybe somewhat ironically given how this started, you do dressage or show jumping.
At some point, your body gets too tired, and you’ve gotta prioritise the rest of your life over the sport you’ve lived and breathed.
Sometimes that means you have a short time with your career, and sometimes you get a long one.
I think I fell somewhere in the middle.
I knew as a junior that if I immediately went pro, I’d burn out quickly and hate the sport that I’d loved for so long, so I didn’t do it.
I went to uni instead. A decision that turned out to be a blessing, because that degree of mine became a lifeline when I found myself forced to leave the sport—and job—I loved so much.
It was great, and I loved it. It was something that couldn’t be taken from me in the same way tennis could.
But I didn’t get to say goodbye to tennis on my own terms, and something about that didn’t sit right.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be an Olympian.
I don’t actually think it was linked to any memory of actually watching the Olympics.
In fact, it was solely driven by the fact that I am an Ancient Greek nerd, and when I discovered that you could still get the title of ‘Olympian’ in the twentieth century (a reminder that I’m born in the 90s, and this was when the dream took root), I knew I needed to work towards that.
The ‘being good at tennis’ thing came after.
There was also a period of time where I was thinking about being a runner, but I cannot stress to you enough how uncomfortable it was being in those blocks when you haven’t fully grown into your body yet and are somehow all legs and not much else. So, tennis player it was.
When it was taken from me, I became a physio and stopped talking about tennis. I only let tennis back into my life when Alisha and I went to Rome.
Then I got hit with a ball that came flying off the racquet of a certain someone.
Sam was the one who floated the idea of playing mixed doubles, and clearly, I didn’t hate it. Even if it got off to a rocky start.
Over the last fourteen months, I’ve played with Sam a lot. Most of the time, we were opposite each other. He was my hitting partner. My gym training partner. My off-court partner. In fact, the thing he was least to me professionally was my on-court doubles partner.
Sam by no means made me a better player.
I was already a great one. When it all fell apart, I was on top and had been for months.
That never left me. What left me was my confidence in my game.
In myself. In my ever-ageing body that had broken down on me while I was doing something I considered my bread and butter.
What being around Sam did do was put me in a space with someone (who wasn’t related to me) who wholeheartedly believed in my greatness and my ability to get what I wanted (that gold medal).
He was there from Queen’s through to Madrid.
A steady presence that didn’t once pull his strength or power, and only asked that I do the same.
I could hit harder. Stronger. Really learn how to hit my marks on my serve.
Test my ability to move around the court.
That was one pillar for my return.
The other three were people who were with me before, travelling through time zones like nobody’s business.
Jamie, who gave up his very settled life in London for fourteen months to be my full-time physio again and kept me healthy for my final year on the road. I’m eternally grateful to you.
Alisha, who takes far too much credit for my return, but she kind of can.
She was partly responsible for me ending up here because she dragged me to a tennis court in Rome that one time.
What she actually does is so much more than that.
You all know her for what she says here, which has been nothing short of wonderful for all of us.
But she does so much more than that. Alisha is the primary reason I stay fed.
She creates meal after meal, snack after snack, yet more meals and then more snacks.
She tolerated me when I became obsessed with a certain food and learned new ways to make it interesting (cous cous came around a lot.
Sometimes it just hit right). I’m pretty sure she could write a cookbook full of nothing but pasta recipes.
She’s one of the best people I know, and getting to spend all this time with her on the road has been wonderful for a whole myriad of reasons that I will not be going into here.
And the last pillar, Wyatt. A lot of people said I was being silly for subbing one family member out for another when I appointed him coach.
Especially because he’d never done it in a professional capacity.
I always knew I made the right choice. I think everything the two of us have achieved over the years supports that.
He’s the greatest little brother I could’ve asked for, and honestly, he’s the best coach (sorry Mum).
He built the system I thrive in, and fuck, I thrived in it so well.
I cannot wait to see how much further he can go.
The last fourteen months have not been easy. There have been some incredible highs, but also moments when I doubted whether I was making the right choice.
The day I found out I’d made Team GB, I actually cried because it meant I’d done the work I needed to in order to make it to the Olympics, and I was finally going to be able to call myself an Olympian.
Naturally, my first match was against my oldest friend and greatest ‘rival’. There is no one I love playing more than Lois. And the fact that my last singles match was against her was a very fitting end.
Just like being part of a match where the only time either of our serves came under pressure was the final one. I don’t remember a lot about that final game. I don’t know how Sam managed to serve with all the weight on his shoulders, but he did.
The only thing I remember with any kind of clarity was the final point because I was eye level with that ball, waiting for the out call, and when it didn’t come, I was on the clay.
As memories go, it’s a pretty good one. And I do remember the entirety of the medal ceremony.
The gold medal is heavy. And I’ve only just stopped looking at it lovingly every thirty seconds.
I’m down to every hour.
So, what’s next?
Well, in the immediate future, I’m going to a beach somewhere to read a thousand books with a cocktail in hand, and I shall not be upright for any longer than necessary.
Then, at some point, I’ll put my physio cap back on.
I know how Alisha signs off these newsletters each time, but the thing is, this will be my only foray into her territory, so there won’t be a next time from me.
Instead, I will sign off with this.
My entire career would not be possible without two very important people.
My mum and dad. They were the ones who put the racquet in my hand.
They encouraged me to pursue it when I felt like it might be something.
Mum was obviously my first professional coach, and she was great.
Since we parted ways professionally, she has been my biggest cheerleader.
Actually, that might not be true because my dad is right there.
With a loud whistle I can hear from anywhere, and the best hugs in the game.
Finally, thank you for the last ten or whatever years that you’ve supported me in some way. The cheers, the signs, the investment in this blog, the comments, the care. However you showed up, thank you for that.
I’ve had the time of my life being a tennis player.
It has given me more than I thought was possible.
It literally broke me once and figuratively broke me countless times.
I hated it once or twice (but who doesn’t hate their job from time to time?).
But I’ve loved it for years. I will continue to love it with all my heart.
Now, it’s time for me to go.