Naomi Osaka’s unexpected strength | Financial Times

“I used to weigh my entire existence on if I won or lost a tennis match. That’s just not how I feel any more,” explained Naomi Osaka shortly after her victory over Serena Williams at the Australian Open in February. The 23-year-old tennis player had found a new assuredness in her on-court performance but, as she explained to the gathered journalists, the pandemic and the “quarantine process” that preceded each fixture had “put a lot into perspective”. After spending years crushing her backhand and obsessing over her serve, the world’s highest-paid female athlete had realised there might be more to life.

One wonders whether the same self-realisation also informed Osaka’s decision to quit the French Open earlier this week. Having determined that doing interviews before matches aggravates her anxiety and depression, a condition she has discussed freely in the past, last week Osaka announced that she would not be taking part in any press conferences during the tournament. On Monday, and following a statement by the leaders of the four Grand Slam tournaments that threatened Osaka with “more substantial fines and future Grand Slam suspensions” for eschewing interviews that are considered a contractual obligation, Osaka announced that she was dropping out of the French Open, and taking time out from the game.

The reaction has typically fallen into two categories. At one end, Osaka is ascribed the role of victim, the sportswoman who is too young and fragile to take the pressure: a role model pushed too soon to play her role. Speaking to reporters, Serena Williams offered the world’s number two ranked player her sympathies: “I wish I could give her a hug because I know what it’s like.”

Others have been less sympathetic. For these folk, Osaka’s behaviour epitomises the entitlement of youth. Former tennis champions have bemoaned the lack of willingness to promote a profession they work so hard to make more visible. As a globally recognised figure in her field of endeavour, they argue, she is obliged to represent the sport.

The press conference is already an arcane institution, a contrivance rendered redundant by social media

But no sportsperson should be obliged to do interviews. In fact, no one who is not a paid public representative should be forced to address the press, especially not a crowded room of reporters all circling the same scant crumbs of information — all desperately trying to ensnare you on some hook.

The press conference is already an arcane institution, a contrivance rendered redundant by social media and an environment that only rarely offers breaking news. They’re also typically quite hostile, pitting weary hacks frustrated by their lack of access against personalities who are only barely tolerating the experience because they know that otherwise they won’t be paid. (The Grand Slam rules say players can be fined up to $20,000 for no-shows where attendance is considered mandatory. Even when they’ve lost.) Moreover, the questions tend to be obnoxious or completely imbecilic: “Why was it intimidating to see [Serena Williams] on the other side of the net?” was one choice example lobbed at Osaka back in February; her reaction was to laugh.

At least actors, promoting movies, tend to travel as a pack and can stage ensemble pieces: just look to the press tours undertaken by team Avengers if you want to see a performance of headline-friendly vaudeville. It helps also that they show off for a living.

Being a spokesperson on race, sport, womanhood and tennis is a lot to consider when you’re only in your twenties

Sportspeople, with rare exceptions, are just stupefyingly boring, hardly surprising when all you have to talk about is knocking a ball around for several hours a day. But Osaka is that rare exception. She is articulate and thoughtful in her interviews. She is more emotionally available than most. She has political views and participates in social activism: unlike those sports personalities who wear the mantle of professional disengagement, the mixed-race Osaka has always dealt with her mostly white interrogators in a mostly white profession with patience and intelligence. She has always been engaged.

But being a spokesperson on race, sport, womanhood and tennis is a lot to consider when you’re only in your twenties and need to get inside your game head. In the same interview at the Australian Open she alluded to a new focus in her gamesmanship that was enabling her to drown out the doubt that plagues her. “I can control what I can control,” she told reporters of her attitude. She was now playing “within” herself.

Osaka’s decision seems to be a sign of greater strength than weakness. As someone who has described herself as cripplingly shy in past interviews, she has realised that in stepping away she is taking back her power. And I don’t begrudge her that decision. Ultimately, I hope it will make her a better player. The greater shame should be felt by the four Grand Slam executives and eejits who with their hectoring, pompous statement prompted one of tennis’s greatest assets to walk away. They have since responded to Osaka’s resignation with a slightly softer missive, offering “our support and assistance in any way possible as she takes time away from the court”.

It’s a shame for the institution of tennis, which has thwarted a great talent. It’s a shame for the media, which must patchwork their news stories not from real-life sources but from scraps on social media. And it’s a shame for us, who are now denied some awesome tennis. Osaka played a blinder, but we all lost in the end.

Email Jo at jo.ellison@ft.com

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