Marat Safin has left the tennis arena, leaving behind a career that promised lots but delivered little.
There was this three-box strip of Calvin and Hobbes a few years ago. The duo was in the woods at the back of the house, where Calvin usually comes up with life-defining wisdom. In the first box, he wonders whether he should go riding his cart. In the second, he wonders whether he should finish homework, for which time was running out. In the third, he is hurtling down the slope in his cart saying he knew which of the two will make for happy childhood memories.
So, how do you define success? To most people, Russia’s Marat Safin, who played his last grand slam match the other day at the US Open — a miserable first round loss to an unknown fellow — is an underachiever. But is that a fair verdict just because he did not win as many titles as Roger Federer, Andre Agassi or Pete Sampras?
Make no mistake, he was in that league. At his best, he was one of the most complete players in the game. But his peak came when he was 20:
A 6-4, 6-3, 6-3 win over Sampras in the 2000 US Open final. Two months later, he was world number one.
At 29, he walks away from the game with just one more grand slam, the 2005 Australian, and 13 other titles. “It has been a nice trip. It’s enough… I have no regrets,’’ he says.
He is listening to his heart and quitting on his own terms. That was the way he played the game. Although his ranking swung wildly, like his mood, Safin was always a threat to the best of players. He was far removed from the sanitised public persona cultivated by the other top players. He could be mercurial, witty, forthright, and grumpy — some 700 smashed racquets are testimonies to that.
That victory over Sampras — one of the worst drubbings the American received in his illustrious career — raised hopes sky high and brought the world to Safin’s feet. But Safin refused to get overwhelmed. Tennis was work, no more. Instead of dedicating his life to winning more tournaments, he spent his twenties making $14 million, travelling the world, climbing mountains, partying, and dating many, many women.
Safin’s story will be told and retold as a guy who let everyone down, including himself. But whose place would you rather take? Someone who has amassed a record number of grand slam titles and wears effeminate blazers with his initials emblazoned in gold? Or someone who spent his time the way he wanted to? A free spirit?
When they are both in their sixties and their knees clatter in cold wind, I wonder which of the two will have better memories of the time spent 40 years ago.
