Naomi Osaka said she would take a break after losing to Leylah Fernandez in the third round at the US Open. (0:55).
NEW YORK -- Naomi Osaka didn't want to be cut off. She didn't want to be saved. Yes, she was crying at her US Open postmatch conference. She was trying to find the right words to express her emotions. But each time that the moderator tried ending it (assuming Osaka did not want to continue), Osaka prevailed. She was determined to get the message out.
Osaka stated late Friday night, "Recently when I win, it's not like I feel happy." I only feel relief. Losing is the worst feeling. This is not normal. I feel like I'm at a point in my life where I have to decide what I want to do. I don't know when my next tennis match will be. I think I will take a break from tennis for a while."
It was an incredible moment and Osaka might gain weight if she does not play professional tennis again. Osaka announced that she would be taking a break from tennis not for the first time. After a long break, Osaka was able to withdraw from the French Open, and she skipped Wimbledon. This was different. As I sat in the room, it occurred to me that I had only listened to a retirement speech. Osaka clearly was in pain, but she didn't seem to be able to hide her feelings and was determined to give the world some information.
She wasn't OK.
Osaka stated, "I suppose we're all dealing avec some stuff." "But I know that I'm dealing some stuff."
After Osaka pulled out of the French Open, she was informed that she would be subject to increasing fines if she refused to give interviews after matches. It felt like Osaka was asking her to let her tennis speak for herself for a while. Talking made her feel less anxious and the world seemed less terrible for her.
It was a ridiculous request, and I began to think about it more. What does it say about us, if we were more concerned with the talking than the tennis?
Instead of wishing for sound bites we could learn something by slowing down, observing and letting her physical gifts resonate in our consciousness. A perfectly struck forehand is a language all it own. A racket made in anger is just as effective.
I made a promise to watch Osaka's movements through space and time at the US Open. No questions, no quotes. I was simply going to write down what I saw.
I realized that I was seeing someone in pain.
It made me wonder if the ending I saw was possible.
However, it could also be a start.
Osaka's match with Marie Bouzkova in the first round on Aug. 30 felt like a triumphant return of form. Osaka was the reigning champion despite all the drama that occurred in the past year. She won her second US Open trophy the last time she played in Arthur Ashe Stadium.
As the match began, she was light on her feet, shifting her weight around, trying to find her centre. This is a common tactic among tennis players. They unconsciously try to calm their minds before the ball hits the ground, when instinct and training take control. Osaka's move has always felt deliberate. It is as if she is trying persuade herself not to think and to just keep moving.
Osaka's serve is arguably the best in women's tennis. It can sometimes look like a lightning bolt racing downhill. This is because I was able to find a seat at the baseline behind Bouzkova for one service game and try to see it from her point of view. Osaka loves to blow air on her fingers as she dribbles, holds the ball up and gives a nod to her opponent before she serves. This is a reminder that the beginning of a point shouldn’t be surprising. As she raises her head, she closes her eyes and coils her spine while she tosses her ball in the air. She leaps off her feet and springs into space. Her racket is hammered downwards, sending the ball flying over the net.
Bouzkova, a Prague-born 23-year-old, handled these lightning bolts more vigorously than I expected. She stepped into balls with a powerful two-handed backhand and a sharp, one-handed approach that made Osaka change directions and run. Her flaws against Leylah Fernandez would be her downfall, but they were not obvious to me. Osaka was not moving as well and wasn't reacting to the ball like she used to. Bouzkova managed to get a break point at 4-4 in the first set. It felt like we might be able to have a competitive match for a while.
It was then that I realized the huge gulf Osaka had with someone like Bouzkova. Bouzkova is a wily, fast, but limited, tennis player. Osaka was overcome by a cold intensity. Osaka threw a serve wide, her right hand uncoiling in a blur. Bouzkova struggled in desperate but could only deflect the ball off her racket. Deuce. Bouzkova was unable to hold the serve as Osaka again pounded up the middle. Advantage Osaka. To end the game, she bounced on her feet and scored a second consecutive ace by Bouzkova.
Osaka seemed more relieved than excited as the crowd erupted and let loose a brief scream. The applause ended much earlier than the laughter. Bouzkova looked dazed. Osaka would rarely win prolonged rallies, as she won only one of her games.
Osaka did this a couple of times as she was heading to her chair. I imagined Osaka walking away from a shootout looking like a gunslinger, unfazed and deadpan.
Osaka spotted a little girl cheering for her after the match had ended. Osaka ran over to her bag and searched the contents. She found something that she gave to the little girl, an Olympic pin. Osaka smiled at the little girl and smiled back. It was one of her few smiles all evening.
Osaka has had a difficult season. Osaka won her fourth career Grand Slam title in February. She won the Australian Open for the first time and was victorious. In May, she pulled out of the French Open and decided to skip Wimbledon. In her native Japan, she lit the Olympic torch but lost in play. She cried when she returned from Cincinnati to perform a tune up. She said that the isolation of COVID was beginning to wear her down.
Osaka can serve with devastating power, and her two-handed backhand, while not the most efficient, is still very effective. Her forehand is what has made me feel these things. It was as perfect a marriage between grace and power during her rise than any other sport. It had a way to announce its presence, much like a trumpet blast or an ominous cymbal crash.
Her forehand was born at the US Open. She defeated Angelique Kerber, the defending champion, in 2017 as an unseeded teenager. Osaka was nearly sheepish afterwards. Kerber was left looking dazed by some of her forehands. To consistently harness her power, she needed to have reps. However, a year later, Serena Williams would be running wild with the same shots on the exact court, winning her first Grand Slam title. Osaka became the No. Osaka became the No. 1 player in the entire world.
However, much has changed since then. Her forehand is now hot and cold. Osaka lost her innocence as she gained more experience. She stopped playing fearless tennis. It felt dangerous to her to draw Fernandez in round three after she had won the first. Fernandez was also left-handed and had nothing to lose.
Even on bad days Osaka's body coils in anticipation of the ball. She stores energy before unleashing it.
Modern tennis players use a variation of this technique to generate power. They swing the core rather than the arm. This evolution was probably started by Steffi Graf on the women's side before it was perfected in the Williams sisters. However, Serena learned how to generate power while her feet were still connected to ground. This technique improved her accuracy and enabled her to quickly change direction. Osaka's power is a mixture of ballet and hammer throw, with little sauts between her best shots. It is beautiful to see the fluid looping motion she creates with her right hand, but it can also be frustratingly inconsistent.
Osaka may have seen Fernandez from the other side of the net and seen Osaka as she was. Osaka was once a fearless tennis player who would pump her fist in between points and take advantage of the energy from the crowd at Arthur Ashe. Osaka was once a player who didn't let mistakes get her down, who saw others fall apart while keeping her cool. The more she played Friday's match, the more it became apparent that something was wrong with her game and her mental state. Even though she beat Fernandez 5-5 in the first set, with two forehand winners of great stature, it didn’t seem to help her relax.
Osaka was furious after every missed shot in the tiebreak second set. Osaka hit a forehand wide to go behind 4-0. She then slammed the racket into ground, drawing jeers from the crowd. After losing the next point, she threw her racket yet again and was warned by the chair umpire. It was here that I was reminded of Williams' US Open final against Osaka, where Williams lost her cool as the match moved on. Osaka spent a lot of Friday's changeover with a towel wrapped around her head. It looked as though she was hiding from the world and longing for a better life.
Fernandez broke Osaka’s serve in the opening game. It was clear that it was only a matter time. It would not be a spirited rally. Fernandez won the second game point with a shot that missed the net. Osaka responded in an angry firing into the stands. It was difficult to see.
Osaka tried to remain composed between points by taking deep breaths and taking a second to play with her racket strings while her back was towards the court. But that didn't work. She was met with jeers from the crowd. Fernandez was overcome with joy when Osaka made another mistake. She received a standing ovation. Osaka gave Fernandez a quick hug of congratulations, and then she quickly packed up her stuff and left the court, displaying a gentle peace sign.
She was still crying an hour later. But she insisted that she would not be stopped from saying what she wanted, what she needed. At least for a time, this might be her last chance. She didn't ask her about her future, but she did not need to be asked. She tried to get the words out, but there were many periods of silence.
Osaka was relieved when she was done. Osaka put on her mask and got up to get down.
She drifted towards the door, never looking back.
