Tribute to Leo Mayer, the retirement of a great player

In tennis, to reach the top you have to be a bit crazy. Understand me, I mean it in a good sense of the word: the level of requirement, dedicationThe consistency, willpower, perseverance and resilience necessary to reach and stay on top is available to only a select few, people willing to sacrifice everything else in their lives in pursuit of a dream. In an environment of competitiveness absolute, in which defeat accompanies you week in and week out, only a few savor the absolute reward for so much effort, leaving crumbs to the most deadly players, to the most earthly players … who in turn are an indispensable part of the circuit.

The news of the withdrawal of Leo Mayer, one of those many and many players that may not sound familiar to the most “casual” tennis fans, makes me feel nostalgic, of longing for times past … and not so past. For me, the tennis player from Corrientes is the symbol of what has always been Davis Cup, the real one, the one that kept its essence: a tournament that allowed “second-row” tennis players (and, I repeat, do not take it as something derogatory: to be a second-row tennis player is to be one of the best athletes in the entire world). face of the earth) shine, take a chance, exceed your limits and make the competition your own. Leo Mayer was surrounded by a victorious halo every time he put on the Argentine coat, like so many other players who that Davis Cup woke up butterflies in their stomach.

The followers of the albiceleste know it well, who saw him be part of that unforgettable 2016, who saw him close a titanic tie against Britain, in Glasgow and far from his natural habitat and that, of course, they saw him win a match that changed the history of the Davis Cup. Yes, it is by no means an exaggeration: what could be a mere first-round match ended up becoming the trigger for the introduction of the tie-breaks in the fifth set definitive. After that legendary victory against Joao Souza, it took Leo Mayer a month and a half to find himself 100% on a tennis court again. He was three days without being able to put on a pair of slippers… and he did it all with astonishing tranquility.

Because, yeah, Mayer wasn’t given to camera fuss at all. He was doing nothing facing the gallery. He was one of those guys who, in his own way, they magnify this sport: a born worker, a tennis stonemason who felt special during certain moments of each season. On HamburgUnder the protection of the heavy Tretorn balls, he built his house: he won two titles, each more meritorious, and lost a third final. Nor will you forget a square that the circuit has not visited for a long time due to the pandemic: Shanghai, the place where he lost several match balls in a dog-face duel with Roger Federer. When he reached the net to greet the Swiss, Leo collapsed.

It was one more proof that this guy felt tennis, that he was perfectly aware of its limitations and virtues and that he knew what a victory like this could mean for him. But because of that disappointment, he accumulated many more successes, especially those named in the Davis Cup. It is an impressive paradox that Leonardo Mayer was born in “Currents”: sometimes the ordinary turns out to be the most extraordinary. He said Pam Beesly at the end of The Office, a series that everyone should see, that there is a lot of beauty in the most ordinary things, that deep down is the meaning of everything. Tennis players like Leo Mayer, no matter how ordinary they may seem, justify the existence of the greatest, embellish tennis with their work and attitude and give value to a sport that needs everyone in its pyramid. His retirement is the withdrawal of so many other players who dedicated themselves to working in silence, who showed their brilliance at certain times and who left tennis without a bad word towards their friends and teammates. Go well, Yacaré.