I admit, like many of my compatriots in this last year and a half, I follow a lot more tennis than usual, and it is all the fault (or merit) of Jannick Sinner. The top-level pro tennis field appears distant, privileged, brilliant and rewarding. We appreciate the immense talent of these players and sympathize with the struggle and stress they undergo. We praise their character, determination, and mental strength. They make a lot of money, so we infer they conduct fulfilling and satisfying lives. Most fans, however, ignore how crowded, harsh, lonely, and unapologetic professional players’ lives are below the elite.
The Loneliness of the Low-ranking Tennis Player, by Conor Niland, chronicles the life of players at the Challenger and Futures levels, one or two steps below the elite. Sinner, Alcaraz, and most other stars have only skimmed through these purgatorial circles thanks to their talent, and still, hundreds spend their entire career trapped in there, and it’s not as pretty as we, the laymen, may think.