The Greats

One of my life dreams is to attend every tennis grand slam. In thirty-one years, I have been to zero, but I knocked out the first recently. It was the most difficult transit, so I think it was a good start. I met a friend at the airport on his way out of Melbourne, and in our conversation, he asked if I heard about Kobe. He died. “What?” I asked in disbelief. “He died,” he repeated. It was surreal – in a weird way, it was the same feeling I had when I heard about 9/11. Obviously, not comparing Kobe’s death to the tragedy of 9/11, but I will always remember when I heard it, where I was, and that feeling of shock. No. That can’t be true. It’s fake. That couldn’t happen. Why would that happen? Over the next few days, people mourned his death around the globe. Even in Melbourne, when I said I was from the states, people commented: “it’s tragic that Kobe died.” Many tennis players, including Djokovic, paid tribute to him at the tournament.

People say Kobe was a great man, a great father, and I don’t doubt it. However, I didn’t know him as a man, or as a father, so I can’t speak to that. I grew up with him as an athlete. I watched him as an athlete. I knew him as an athlete. That’s what I can speak to.

I went to my first professional tennis match, and it was everything I hoped it would be. Incidentally, if you are looking for a professional sporting event to go to by yourself, tennis is great because no one’s allowed to talk. I was the loudest person in the stadium – shocking, I know. I watched a couple sets of the women’s quarterfinals, and they were entertaining. But then I watched the men’s quarterfinals. I could watch men’s grand slam matches all day, and it’s not purely because the pace is faster or their biceps are simply magnificent, though those are factors. It’s mainly because instead of best of three sets, these matches are best of five, which adds an elevated element of mental grit to the match. I watched the Sandgren/Federer quarterfinal. Sandgren had the lead, 2 sets to 1. After losing three match points, the set went to a tiebreak. Federer was down 6-2, and he came back to win the set. After that, I cheered for the American underdog, but I sensed his fate. Federer won the first match point he had.

Sandgren played an amazing match. His serve was on fire, he had very few unforced errors, and he moved well on the court. I was pulling for him, just as I pulled for the Jazz when they played the Lakers, because I love an underdog – and because Tennys is American and still single with beautiful biceps. But he was playing one of the greats. I was so grateful to be at that match, because it is very rare we are afforded the opportunity to witness greatness in that form. I never saw Kobe live, but there is no question he was one of the greats. What is it that makes them great? That inspires us, those who appreciate and respect their talent, even when we want them to lose. What gives us goosebumps?

It’s patience – not necessarily the first thing that comes to mind, but I respect this most. It’s a certain steadiness under pressure. A calm that withstands, that bends but doesn’t break. It moves from point to point, play to play, day to day, persisting, waiting for the opportunity. In that match, Federer seemed un-phased by the match points. He faced them with this grace that was waiting for his opportunity.

It’s capturing that opportunity. I didn’t pull out my phone to video any of Sandgren’s seven match points. But the first match point Federer had, I videoed, because I knew, subconsciously, he would take it. If childhood Anna remembers one thing about Kobe, it’s that he wanted that last shot. He wasn’t afraid. Or maybe he was – but he learned to overcome that fear. Great athletes don’t shy away from those moments. They embrace them, because they have prepared day in and day out. When they come, they are ready.

It’s also embracing failure. The next match, Federer lost to Djokovic in straight sets. Djokovic is another great, and there will always be another great – one who may be better than you. One for whom you set the stage. Every great will fail. It is a part of the process, but the distinguishing factor is how you respond.

It’s constant pursuit of perfection in spite of failure, knowing that while one will never reach it, it is worth that relentless commitment. Federer is 38. He has won 20 Grand Slam titles, earned $124M in prize winnings, and millions more in endorsements. He will easily go down as one of the greats. Yet, as he was playing Djokovic, his wife looked as nervous as his first Wimbledon. You’d think it would get less tense and a little more comfortable at this stage in his career. But that’s why they are where they are - because they don’t get comfortable. They maintain that hunger.

I always followed Kobe, even if I hated the dynasty. As his career approached an end, he changed his shot because he couldn’t move like he used to move. He had won six NBA titles, was easily a Hall of Famer, and yet, he pursued. In the brief time we saw him after his NBA career, we saw his continued pursuit. We saw him win an Oscar, start a business, be a father. Kobe wasn’t close to done, and anyone who watched him knew that, which I think is one of the reasons people mourned him so genuinely. They saw something stolen from the world. His example was a gift to so many young people in our generation, because it represented more than just a sport. It represented how we aimed to live – in patient, relentless pursuit of the best version of ourselves, embracing failure and capitalizing on opportunities.

Any time there is a tragic death, I am reminded that even the most heroic are not immune to that thief in the night who comes to steal, kill, and destroy. And the hopelessness and doubt that often accompanies that. My heart hurts for those family members affected by the crash.

Last post, I talked about the night my brother died and how deeply realized I still feel about it. In my next session, I went back to the moment I was most scared. Lydia and I were standing at the window, and I saw the ambulances arriving. I felt helpless, confused, and totally out of control. We went through a similar process as the week prior, and somewhere in it, there was this image. I went back to that same moment, and this time, there was an image of Christ with me.

Maybe that image was God, maybe it was me, maybe it was the funky therapy. I do know this: God doesn’t promise us easy, or fair, or logical in this life. What He does promise us, however, is that He will stand in that fire with us and beside us. He will walk with us through every pain, and he wants us to walk with Him, even in our doubt, because no baggage we have is more than He can handle.

And finally, in my own life, I have been reminded lately that while the mentioned traits are worthy pursuits, if I don’t pursue them with Christ at the center, they are nothing. And if I pursue with Christ at the center, He makes them everything. He is, after all, the ultimate great. The one great who does not fail.