Wisdom of youth

I watched some tennis last night (you may not be surprised). Two of my favourites were facing off—Dominic Thiem and Rafael Nadal. Both were coming off lengthy breaks or interrupted years due to injury and for both, I suspect, it was a chance to see ‘how things are going’.

Thiem, a former number three in the world and Nadal, one of the greatest to play the game, have met many, many times. The beginning of this particular match was a slow, almost careful affair. Throughout the game, there were definitely moments of brilliance but generally it was a pretty stolid event – more unforced errors than Thiem would have wanted and a generally only-what’s-needed approach from Nadal.

To see these men compete was a lesson in understatement. There was less of the posturing and revving up characteristic of younger players, less ‘game-face’, less appealing with desperation and frustration to coaches’ boxes when things went wrong. These tennis players were self-contained and masters (or once were) of their craft. They seemed wise, if wisdom can be the privilege of those just thirty and thirty-seven.

I don’t for a moment suggest Thiem and Nadal weren’t loving the contest or that they had lost the competitiveness needed to bring someone to an elite athletic level. It just seemed they had seen a lot, knew a lot about themselves and their game, and knew what had to be done in this situation without resorting to artifice or performance.

Wisdom, which I feel is something we gather slowly over the years, could, I think, lead to understatement. When we quietly know or understand after a long period of gathering ‘life’, we are perhaps less in need of noisily making sure everyone else is aware, or listens, or gets on board.

I look forward to gaining that wisdom—the years-in-the-game knowledge of ourselves and the world, and the inner quietness that might accompany it. More living needs to be done but Dominic Thiem and Rafael Nadal, despite their relative youth, have placed in image in my mind of what that might be like.

Until next time,

Kirsten