Stan Wawrinka’s 2014 Australian Open championship run meant more to me than any tennis victory besides Federer’s 2017 Australian Open triumph. It wasn’t just the thrill of him finally breaking through against Djokovic (who’d beaten him 14 times in a row) in the quarterfinals, or the distinctive sound of his ball strikes, or the lethal beauty of his one-handed backhand. It was Samuel Beckett.
Wawrinka’s now-famous arm tattoo of a Beckett quote read “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” Those were words I needed to hear then. Even now, I think of Beckett, and of Wawrinka’s dedication to failing better, quite often. And I have tried, with mixed results, to fail again, and fail better, myself. I like to imagine I’ll never stop. Wawrinka certainly hasn’t: In an era thoroughly dominated by the Big Three, his Grand Slam singles total stands at an astonishing three.
As I write this, Wawrinka, now 37, is heading into the third set of his first-round Wimbledon match against Italy’s Jannik Sinner. He’s in the twilight of his career, which he, like Andy Murray, is struggling to finish on his own terms after being repeatedly sidelined by injury. (Murray’s another sentimental favorite of mine, someone whose on-court negativity stands in sharp contrast to his off-court decency and honor.) If either man advances to the next round, I will be quite pleased, even though deep runs are unlikely.
Cranky Lesbian is a disgruntled homosexual with too much time on her hands. Click for film reviews or to follow on Instagram.
