You're The Best...Around
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
I’m revisiting one of the very first pieces I’ve written for Earworms and Song Loops, from back in June 2022.
I am reposting this, because my tennis hero, Rafael Nadal, played his last professional match today (yesterday, a week ago….depending on when you read this). It’s a bittersweet moment, one that has led me to reflect on what compelled me to follow Rafa for more than 20 years.
I am grateful to have gotten to watch so many legends of the sport live and in person. I’ve seen Nadal play three times, Federer twice, and Djokovic twice. Only Novak Djokovic remains of the big three (Andy Murray, considered the “big fourth,” retired earlier this year), and he will likely retire in the next couple of years.
I was reminded of this piece below, which I wrote after Rafa won what would be his last Grand Slam title, two and a half years ago.
You don’t have to be a tennis fan to appreciate this story (I hope), as it’s really about inspiration, dedication and empathy. And being the best….around.
I love tennis.
I love playing it, I love watching it, I love re-watching it, I love reading books about it. I love talking about it with other tennis and even non-tennis fans until they walk away from me.
On Sunday, my favorite player, Rafael Nadal, won the French Open for a record 14th time at the age of 36. I know, 36 doesn’t sound old, and it isn’t, but in the men’s professional singles tennis world, it’s considered ancient. The previous oldest winner, Andres Gimeno, was 34 when he won the French Open in 1972.
It’s undeniable, the toll playing professional tennis can have on the human body. It’s the rare career player who avoids serious injury and multiple surgeries. Rafa has been dealing with foot pain for years and it’s only gotten worse lately. He announced in his press conference after his victory that he’d had an injection to numb his foot before the match so that he could run and move without intense pain. He’s got the best team of physio experts with him 24/7, and still, he’s being held together with scotch tape and novocaine. I only play casually and for decades have struggled with chronic tennis elbow, hip pain, and other assorted tweaks and dings. But it’s all been worth it for the potential to experience those mythical, mystical 20-30 hit rallies with my buddy Mike (or anyone else I happen to play with).
Tennis (singles tennis that is — doubles is another beast entirely) is the perfect sport. It’s not as solitary as running or cycling. You have a partner on the other side of the net (hopefully someone you like), but how well or how awful you play is all dependent on you. Team sports are great, don’t get me wrong, but I am a selfish athlete. I am not good at interpreting when I should be aggressive and take charge or step back and let another person handle a particular aspect of the game.
For example, I am on a softball team, a team I’ve played on for more than a decade. I love my teammates and I look forward to each game with the same excitement as I did when I first joined. But the games I find the most satisfaction in are the ones when I am the pitcher. I control the pace of the game (well, in my mind I do) and I often seethe inside when a teammate makes an error. It’s a ridiculous reaction — I’ve made plenty of errors myself — but I think it’s because I want us to win so bad, or I want ME to win so bad, so my teammates’ errors are in essence my errors. Yes, I am working on my delusions of grandeur in therapy.
In singles tennis, my errors really are my own errors. And my winners are my own winners. Sure, I will be quick to blame my tennis mistakes on a long list of factors — the wind, that annoying kid on the adjoining court, my glasses (and thusly my optometrist, my parents, my genetics), a crack in the cement, a bird flying by — but deep down I know it’s my form, my timing, my focus, and the simple fact that no one is perfect, not even me.
Not even Rafa Nadal.
There are games, even entire matches, where my tennis crush gets crushed by his opponent. When Rafa’s blazing down-the-line forehand shanks wide every time. When the timing of his reliable return of serve is off. When he makes more errors than winners. Nadal, unlike many of his colleagues, doesn’t pout or whine or break a racket over his knee. He is constantly working to improve his game, his attitude, his perspective.
During the semi-final match of the French Open, his opponent, Sascha Zverev, was pushing Rafa to his limits in maybe the best match of the tournament. Then, switching directions to run for a ball, Sascha rolled his ankle and collapsed to the ground. Rafa immediately ran over to him to make sure he was okay. When Sascha was eventually taken off the court in a wheelchair, Rafa followed into the medical room to be there for him and to offer support. During the press conference after Zverev had to retire from the match, Rafa refused to talk about his victory, instead using his press time to express concern for Sascha, hoping he was not injured badly and would heal quickly. He finished by saying that helping out a fellow human being shouldn’t be seen as some rare and noble thing; it should be our natural instinct.
As much as I’ve loved and admired Nadal’s tennis skills, determination, and grit, it’s the way he’s always carried himself off the court that has made him my favorite player in all of sport. Being a lefty doesn’t hurt either.
As earworms will do, Joe Esposito’s 1984 hit single, “You’re The Best Around” appeared in my head at 4 am. Exactly two hours before the start of the men’s final match at the French Open.
Clearly my dream self wanted to pump Rafa up for his important match in Paris at Roland Garros. Perhaps the song’s appearance was my dream team trying to rouse me so that I didn’t miss the match as I’d gotten home at 1 am after seeing Midnight Oil perform an amazing concert on their final tour. Would this year’s French Open, like Midnight Oil, be Rafa’s final tour as well? It’s the venue where the undisputed king of clay has won a record 14 titles.
Was this cheesy anthem, an ode to never letting adversity get you down, a reminder of how impermanent life is, how we must not waste our time with doubt and disbelief? Was Mr. Esposito invading my brain with anthemic, cheesy positivity because I maybe was struggling to believe in myself? Or was it more literal? A sonic expression of my feelings for Rafa Nadal?
If you are older or as old as me, you know “You’re the Best Around” as the musical equivalent to the Rocky theme (“Gonna Fly Now”), but for a 1984 movie which I would argue is just as important to cinematic history as the 1976 Sylvester Stallone boxing epic.
Of course, I’m talking about the Ralph Macchio (Elizabeth Shue, Pat Morita) classic, The Karate Kid.
Can you watch the above clip from the film without rising from your couch or chair and punching a fist into the sky? It’s a riveting (and incredibly dated) montage of Macchio’s Daniel working his way up the ranks during a karate tournament, as guys twice his size and weight (and age) are brought to their knees by Daniel’s Mr. Miyagi-instructed stork-stance and patented eye twinkle. His opponents fall prone by Macchio’s unbearable cuteness. And the twelve times the camera cuts back to Daniel’s love interest, Ali (Shue), cheering from the sidelines, is wonderfully excessive.
I’ve had “You’re The Best Around” appear as my earworm countless times. It’s one of the most insistent loops in all of wormland.
In fact, it’s repeating over and over as I type this. If you only knew the strength, willpower, and perseverance it’s taking me to finish this post. It’s a catch-22 — a conundrum — I need the inspirational message of my earworm to help me reach the end and make this piece “the best around.” Yet, it’s also keeping me from finishing it in a timely manner. It’s wanting me to use the phrase “the best around” in every sentence and I can feel myself wanting to do just that.
But what exactly does that mean, “the best around?” Why not just “the best?” What is “around?” Around the vicinity? Within ear or eye shot? Adding ‘around’ sounds good within the rhythm of the song, but it feels like a qualifier. You’re the best around, but not the best ever.
I know I’m getting caught up in semantics, but this questioning of word choice, of wondering how “around” equates to “in the world” has already released the firm grip this song has had over me. I can feel myself relaxing. I can feel other songs starting to enter.
I can feel that I’ve reached the end. That this piece, although not perfect, is the best. Around.
I didn’t do “now it’s your turn” back when I originally wrote this. But I wanted to add the section this time… around
I wish I’d done more research on Joe Esposito, maybe tell y’all some more about him and perhaps tie it back to Rafa and how losing is essential to winning. Something faux profound like that.
If you are a tennis fan or even a fan of Rafa Nadal I’d love to get your thoughts on his retirement.
Here’s Joe Esposito’s wiki page. He has recorded a shit ton of hits and appeared in many more soundtracks. Check out his bio and discography. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Esposito_(singer)
Yep. New earworm added to today’s playlist!
“Wash on, wash off” should be a song. 🎶