OVER THE LINE: Ethical Struggles in Competitive Tennis

Bored in quarantine, I decided to start reading George Orwell’s 1984. Months after finishing it,  I’m still left with several questions.

One particular scene stood out to me: when Winston, the main character, looks back on his childhood, showing an entirely different version of himself. This younger version was innocent, pure and energetic. Now, Winston is cynical, hopeless and nearly lifeless. 

The difference between younger Winston and present-day Winston was unsettling to me. It reminded me of myself, which startled me, due to our very different circumstances. It made me think, especially, of how I’d changed throughout my tennis career.

When I first discovered tennis, I was nine years old. I hardly focused on improving my skills as an athlete. I didn’t think anything of it if I won or lost. My main focus was having fun and meeting new people. In that regard, younger Winston and I acted similarly, both of us pure and innocent.

But Winston and I share the fact that, as we got older, we started seeing the world in less lighthearted ways. 

My perspective began changing when I participated in a 15-and-under local tournament. Winning my first two matches, I was moving on to the third and final match. 

My opponent was extremely competitive. Walking onto the courts, he started making fun of other players in the tournament, ridiculing the last guy I beat as “in the wrong tournament, he was so slow.” His comments surprised me. I’d always thought of the people I played as friends, not serious adversaries. 

When we started playing, my opponent’s unmatched skill only reinforced these comments: he was much better than the others. His astounding accuracy cost me many points.

I realized quickly that I would have to give it my all if I wished to stand a chance. More generally, I wondered if my opponent’s unfriendly attitude was related to his relentlessness on the court. I suddenly worried that my friendliness with past opponents might have been costing me victories. 

In 1984, the oppressive government of Oceania slowly breaks Winston. His loss of innocence changes him. He starts seeing the world in an entirely new manner. He’s more reserved, and pessimistic. 

In this match, against this opponent, I felt like I was changing in a similar manner. If this was just how the world of competitive tennis worked, would that inevitably influence my behavior, making me into someone I didn’t want to be?

With the score 5-5, we’d both made it to one point from winning the match. Launching my serve over the net, I felt determined to best my opponent once and for all. As his return flew towards me, I realized that the shot was higher and faster than his others, meaning an increased chance of being out, meaning victory for me. 

I raced to the ball, and saw it bounce just outside the baseline. The shot was out. Victory was mine. Or so I thought. 

Immediately after I made the call, my opponent started questioning my claim. Trying to be courteous, I offered him the chance to replay the point. But that wasn’t enough for him. 

Without a word, my opponent promptly left the court, and returned with the instructor facilitating the entire tournament. He had no trust in me, and therefore resorted to bringing a supervisor, in case I made another call that he didn’t see fitting. 

In 1984, the government of Oceania constantly bends the truth to achieve their goals. Eventually, the truth becomes meaningless. The novel reminded me of this moment, when my dissatisfied opponent manipulated the truth in his favor, and the original facts stopped mattering. 

When sports become hyper-competitive, integrity matters second to victory. This behavior feels reminiscent of how Oceania sacrifices the honesty of its establishment in order to gain power. I worried that mindset was rubbing off on me.

I repressed my frustration and redid the point. However this time, after a minute or so of rallying, my ball soared into the net. My opponent became the victor of our match. 

I felt that disappointment reflected in 1984, where the underdog, Winston, does not prevail. Instead, he surrenders his way of thinking to the government, and learns to love Big Brother. Modern media gives us the illusion that underdogs always come out on top. In 1984, in tennis and in real life, that simply isn’t the case. Sometimes the most sensible thing is to accept the fact that others are simply more powerful than us, that being an underdog doesn’t necessarily help us achieve victory. 

After playing this opponent, and making these realizations, a new competitive attitude started emerging within me, without me even realizing its presence. I began seeing tennis, and myself, in completely different ways. 

I saw those changes come to life in high school. I remember one specific practice when the coaches were much harder on us than usual. There was an edge to their commands that wasn’t noticeable beforehand. Rather than take it in stride, their manner got me worked up.

My irritation at their commands began a cycle of frustration, where I started playing more aggressively, with sloppier technique, which only made the coaches more frustrated.

At the end of the practice, the coaches assigned us to play out a set amongst ourselves. Here my impatience was on full display. I made shots that I had never made before, but I also made mistakes that I had always been able to avoid. And my usual aura had been visibly, gruesomely morphed into vast amounts of competitive passion and anger that could only be steadied by victory. I began to realize that I was acting just like my tournament opponent. 

I saw clearly then that winning and losing were no longer meaningless to me. I had an intense, unrelenting desire for victory. And, like Winston, I struggled to remember the days when I felt differently. 

That’s how I also realized that, even in a competitive world, there is absolutely such a thing as too much aggression. No, I couldn’t go back to my innocent nine-year-old self. But there was value in finding balance, not just relenting to the Big Brother of hyper-competitiveness. I wanted to adapt, but on my own terms. 

A few months later, I found myself playing a doubles match with a less experienced partner. I noticed early on that my partner lacked proficiency in clearing the net when he was hitting the ball from baseline: the farthest position on the court. The other team noticed too, and used his vulnerability to gain advantage.

I was tempted to get frustrated and speak aggressively to my partner. I wanted to win, and his weakness was extremely irritating. 

Instead, I used the opportunity to define my own balance: combining the kindness and flexibility of my younger self with the competitive drive of my older one, for the best of both worlds. 

I approached my partner during a break, and suggested a strategy. The traditional doubles positioning, one partner closer to baseline and another closer to net, wasn’t working. Instead, we could hold a more parallel line, and carefully move together towards the net when the timing was right.

Back on the court, we rolled out this strategy cautiously at first, but gradually setting ourselves up for more aggressive shots. It worked. We won the match.

In tennis, and in life, it is necessary to grow up. However, sometimes we tend to grow up in ways we don’t see fitting for ourselves. Reading 1984 was unsettling because, in Oceania, growing up guarantees corrupting your humanity. 

But, in my world, I can’t just refuse to grow up. So I have to find ways to change on my own terms.

While sometimes we have to accept the world as it is, other times things are genuinely worth resisting. Yes, in competitive sports especially, we’re often required to put others down to succeed. But you still have to be careful that this reality doesn’t corrupt you internally, making you into something that you resent, something that needlessly harms everything it encounters. As people, we must be vigilant about succumbing to corruption, because once we are fully engulfed in its wretchedness, it is viciously difficult to gain back the internal balance we strive for.

But by becoming fully aware of yourself and your surroundings, you are able to monitor whether or not you are in the process of being, or already have been, corrupted. The key to prospering, in life and on the court, is to understand where competition turns into needless cruelty, and to avoid crossing that line.

Even after reading 1984, and playing competitive tennis, I still believe that, through the right mentality, I can avoid corruption and grow up in ways I see fitting for myself. Life will always produce problems as I mature. But I can manage them. I just need to remember my values, and stay true to myself.