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The loneliness of the low-ranking tennis player
The long read: I was once Ireland’s No 1 player, and tried for years to climb the global ranks. But life at the bottom of the top can be brutal
The Williams sisters didn’t linger to have a chat with me when Serena and I were 16-year-olds training at the Bollettieri tennis academy in Florida, but a girl I hit with who was ranked 50 in the world did stop and talk. My early years on tour were pre-smartphone, so you always knew where to find the players who’d lost that day: sweaty and still in their kit, they would be lined up to use the PC in the hotel lobby, booking flights home, or else on their way to the airport en route to their next event. Off we sped, with no seatbelt and luggage sitting on my knees, sliding across the back seat as the driver swerved to avoid animals standing in the middle of the roads that wound around the Uzbek countryside.
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