Seeing those names, Coria and Cerundolo, together takes me back. Not necessarily to a specific match they played, maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. It’s more about the era Coria represented for me, and how different things are now, watching guys like Cerundolo come up.
I remember Coria’s time vividly. Especially that one French Open. I was completely obsessed. Tennis was my escape back then. I worked a pretty soul-crushing job, long hours, terrible boss, the usual stuff. Watching tennis, especially the clay court season, was my bright spot. I followed every match Coria played that year, felt like I was right there with him on the court.
Then came the final. The big one. I had it all planned out. Took the afternoon off work – a minor miracle in itself. Got snacks, settled in. This was going to be the moment. Five minutes before the match started, my phone rang. It was my sister. My dad had fallen, pretty badly, and they were heading to the hospital.
Everything just stopped. Tennis, snacks, my perfect afternoon off… none of it mattered. I remember just grabbing my keys and running out the door. The TV was still on, showing the players walking onto the court. Didn’t even turn it off.
What Happened Next
Spent the next twelve hours at the hospital. It was a blur of:
- Waiting rooms
- Talking to doctors
- Trying to keep my sister calm
- Endless cups of bad coffee
My dad was okay in the end, thankfully. A broken wrist and a bruised ego, but he recovered. When I finally got home, exhausted, sometime early the next morning, the TV was still on, showing some highlights show. I saw the result of the final. Coria had lost.
And the funny thing? It barely registered. A few hours earlier, that result would have crushed me. But after the chaos and worry of the hospital, it just felt… small. It was a strange feeling. My big escape, the thing I’d poured so much energy into, suddenly seemed insignificant compared to real life hitting me in the face.
It sort of changed how I watched sports after that. I still enjoy it, I still follow players like Cerundolo. But I guess I learned to keep some perspective. It’s just a game. Real life, family, being there when you’re needed – that’s the stuff that actually matters. Seeing those names just brought all that flooding back. Funny how memory works, isn’t it?
