A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again

Wallace recounts watching the qualifying rounds for the Canadian Open, a major tennis tournament. He focuses the essay on Michael Joyce, a young player who is (at the time) the “79th best player on planet earth” (214). Wallace concedes that a general audience may not have heard of Joyce, at least in comparison to more famous players such as Pete Sampras or Andre Agassi. Wallace, however, is a self-confessed tennis diehard and uses Joyce as an example to illustrate the demands on young players who strive to be among the best at a sport. Wallace describes the various sponsorship deals at the event. In addition to the title sponsor, du Marier cigarettes, many brands attached their names and logos to the Canadian Open. These advertisements are everywhere. Tournaments such as the Canadian Open are international events, attracting players from all over the world who mostly compete for the privilege of being knocked out by one of the more famous players in the later rounds. Wallace describes the complex organizational structure of the tournament, the extensive list of exotic names, and the bias given to Canadian players who might not have qualified on sporting merit.

Michael Joyce is enjoying his “best year ever as a pro” (221), rising through the world ranks but still being forced to play in the qualifying rounds of this major (though not top) tournaments. Wallace presents Joyce as a young man “on the cusp” (222) of tennis stardom. He is one of the supporting cast at this point, who play the televised games against truly famous players. Wallace, who reiterates his background in competitive junior tennis, is taken aback by watching even unremarkable tennis pros in the flesh. Even players who would be eliminated in the first rounds of qualifying play with skill vastly superior to his own. Wallace watches Joyce easily dispatch a player named Jacob Hlasek. He describes Joyce’s game (he is a power baseline player, much like Agassi) and praises his “realness and approachability” (227), which he cites as the reason he spent most of his time with Joyce. Agassi is the best player in the world, the essay explains, and is also “kind of Michael Joyce’s hero” (232). Their games are similar, and Joyce is invited to practice with Agassi. Whereas Agassi seems to have no flaws in his play, Joyce lacks the components that separate the elite players in the tennis world, such as “other-worldly foot-speed” (234).

Wallace notes that tennis is “the most beautiful sport there is” (235). He describes the physical demands of each game, which are matched by the infinitely complex calculations and tactical adjustments necessary to make each shot. Joyce has dedicated his life to tennis. From a young age, his father urged him to practice relentlessly. Wallace recounts Joyce’s depiction of his brutal childhood practice regime and how he was seemingly unaware of the extent to which the regimen alienated him from the typical childhood of his peers. He attended tennis academies, spent his weekends at tournaments, and skipped college to join the pro tour. Wallace admires Joyce’s talent but suggests that most people would rather not “countenance the kinds of sacrifices the professional-grade athlete has made to get so good” (237). The near ascetic, monastic devotion to the sport is unnerving to most, especially when the objective is to be among the top 100 players rather than the very best.

Wallace attends another Joyce game, this one against the temperamental Julian Knowle. While Joyce remains calm and focused, Knowles throws tantrums after each dropped point. Joyce exploits his opponent’s heightened emotions, which illustrates to Wallace that Joyce is as far beyond Knowles as a player as Agassi is beyond Joyce. This makes Wallace realize that despite his own history playing tennis, he could not bring himself to challenge Joyce to a game because he would simply be obliterated. Wallace reminisces on his tennis game, in which he was not particularly talented but had the ability to manipulate his opponents’ emotions to the point that they would make mistakes. As he grew older and his opponents matured, this strategy became increasingly less feasible and he left the competitive tennis scene. Now, watching players like Joyce, he notes that he could not “meaningfully exist on the same court with these obscure, hungry players” (245). Describing the audience experience at the Canadian Open, Wallace notes being struck by the commonality of smoking, even in the stands.

As the main tournament starts, Wallace finally has the chance to see Andre Agassi play for the first time in the flesh. He admits to loathing Agassi “with a passion” (250), though he cannot help but admire Agassi’s talent. Wallace feels as if he is “watching the devil play” (251). The experience is markedly different than watching Agassi on television. In addition, Wallace watches several matches alongside Joyce’s coach, Sam Aparicio. Sitting beside the coach helps to illuminate nuances of the game that Wallace had never considered. He returns to his profile of Joyce, whose life is dedicated to tennis in almost every way. He has “no interests outside tennis” (254). Wallace discovers in Joyce a kind of pathos that fascinates him. He admires and pities the young player in equal measure. Even though Joyce is only 22, it is “too late for anything else” (255) in his life. Wallace wishes him well. Joyce is knocked out in the early rounds of the Canadian Open. He retires at a relatively young age due to a wrist injury.