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The model is Gonzales...the spirit of a tennis player
There is an inner quality that defines a tennis player. Modern days has produced millionaire tennis players. Consummate professionals. Bought and paid for...right down to the underwear that they wear. Spoiled and consumed by the retched riches that only a king would dare to flaunt.
Here is the portrait of a fighting spirit. Something that is so base and primal that many might find it distasteful due to the lack of luxury surrounding his life outside of tennis although some might allow for him because of his tennis playing ability.
But he fought to the bitter end as his match against Charlito Pasarell so elegantly expressed in this article. There is more than money to this game. There is more than image to this sport. There is something very base underneath the veneer of the white clothes and the etiquette that used to be called tennis etiquette.
Gonzales rose above all of it and consumed it like the primal big cat that he was in his soul. He was cornered his whole life by the establishment but never gave thought to giving in to it. He fought to the bitter end...opting to keep his pride which was the thing that fueled him. Kept him fired up at all times and ready to do battle. Unfortunately or not...like an actor who is always relegated to roles of being the bad guy he could not run from his destiny...which was to be the antagonist on the stage of tennis. And life.
So be it. He accepted his fate...the Aztec that he was. He rode the snake down Camino Royal. Like an Apache in the desert refusing to drink as a sign of weakness to his avowed enemy...the United States of America...Gonzales chose the road less traveled. He died as he lived...he did it his way. He went out the way he lived...without backing down. Without showing any sign of weakness that the enemy...or rather the opponent might take as a sign that he might capitulate. Not unlike the bravest of Apache warriors.
His service game was his trusty bow and his quiver of arrows. It never let him down...it said in the article. What would he do against the elite modern tennis players? How would he fare or conduct himself? He would sneer at the whole lot with Aztec eyes and pick them off one by one...with his trusty serve aiming true and deadly.
Originally posted by don_budge
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It isn't pretty...
Read it and weep.
Read it and weep.
Here is the portrait of a fighting spirit. Something that is so base and primal that many might find it distasteful due to the lack of luxury surrounding his life outside of tennis although some might allow for him because of his tennis playing ability.
But he fought to the bitter end as his match against Charlito Pasarell so elegantly expressed in this article. There is more than money to this game. There is more than image to this sport. There is something very base underneath the veneer of the white clothes and the etiquette that used to be called tennis etiquette.
Gonzales rose above all of it and consumed it like the primal big cat that he was in his soul. He was cornered his whole life by the establishment but never gave thought to giving in to it. He fought to the bitter end...opting to keep his pride which was the thing that fueled him. Kept him fired up at all times and ready to do battle. Unfortunately or not...like an actor who is always relegated to roles of being the bad guy he could not run from his destiny...which was to be the antagonist on the stage of tennis. And life.
So be it. He accepted his fate...the Aztec that he was. He rode the snake down Camino Royal. Like an Apache in the desert refusing to drink as a sign of weakness to his avowed enemy...the United States of America...Gonzales chose the road less traveled. He died as he lived...he did it his way. He went out the way he lived...without backing down. Without showing any sign of weakness that the enemy...or rather the opponent might take as a sign that he might capitulate. Not unlike the bravest of Apache warriors.
His service game was his trusty bow and his quiver of arrows. It never let him down...it said in the article. What would he do against the elite modern tennis players? How would he fare or conduct himself? He would sneer at the whole lot with Aztec eyes and pick them off one by one...with his trusty serve aiming true and deadly.
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