(no subject)
Live in silence
by cuentosdelalma
The first time he goes to Gaston for advice, Gaston has just retired and David's pretty sure he's going to get told the other man really doesn't care. Or he's too busy. Or that David's problems are David's problems and not Gaston's.
That's not what happens though. Gaston is good at listening, and he's even better at telling David what he needs to hear without sounding like an ass.
Something his coach doesn't always manage to do.
Now he doesn't get the chance to talk to Gaston as much as he'd like. He spends the time he can talking to Gaston about what the other man is doing after tennis, rehabbing injuries, and what he should do after tennis. It's not like Gaston has a tonne of pressing matters eating up his time, so he always seems happy enough to talk.
Gaston's advice is always surprisingly good. It should probably have stopped surprising David by now, but he never knew Gaston could give out good advice. Maybe retirement changes people.
Gaston never says anything about why he's suddenly able to hand out advice or if he could do it before and just chose not to. Gaston doesn't say a whole lot about his talent in their conversations, which make talks with his coach and trainer seem superfluous.
This is a different conversation though. It's not about rehab, the kids on the tour, the ATP, his coach, or anything like that. It's big. Something bigger than he's ever had to contemplate before. He was too young to really know what he was doing when he chose to play professional tennis, but he's smart enough to realize retiring will change everything.
Retiring is the big choice.
It takes a while for him to finally work up the courage to talk to Gaston about it, to see what the other man thinks. It makes it seem so much more real than when it's just in his head.
Gaston's response is, like always, a surprise to him.
"When you came back last time, why did you do it?"
He has no clue what his last return has to do with him retiring. They're the complete opposite, but this is why he called Gaston. It's why he keeps asking Gaston for advice. Gaston makes him think.
"Because I felt like I'd left things undone. Too many goals weren't finished. I thought..."
"You've finished them now then?" Gaston interrupts.
"No."
"Then why retire now? You came back before to finish goals. What's different about this time?"
"I don't know. It just feels different."
"If you can figure out why it feels different than it did last time, you'll know if it's really time to retire."
"I don't know what's different. I'm older. I feel like an old man on tour now. I'm tired. Maybe I realized I won't be able to do the things I want. I'm never going to win anymore big titles. I don't have the energy to beat these children after playing them one after another all week. Every injury takes longer to recover from, I'm slower on court, and they're quicker and hit harder every time I turn around. What's the point? Better to walk away with dignity."
"You don't enjoy it? There's nothing left in this for you? You're just going through the motions?"
"It doesn't make me feel the way I used to. I feel emptier, like it's just a job."
"Then why ask me? I think you know what you need to do."
"What if I'm doing the wrong thing?"
He hears a frustrated sigh. "It took you long enough to get to the actual question you wanted to ask."
"It's not easy. I'm not used to getting advice from anyone outside my team. And they don't make me ask all these questions. They just tell me what I need to know."
"No. They tell you what they think you want to hear. It's more that you're not used to taking advice from people you don't pay to tell you things. Why ask me then?"
"Because you're good at it. I never noticed it when you were on tour, but you've got a talent for it. I need someone who's good at advice right now. I need someone who isn't afraid to tell me what I don't want to hear."
"I learned who I was a as a person after I put my tennis racquet down. For a long time, at the end, it felt like I was nothing more than an extension of the arm swinging the racquet. That's how I knew. It wasn't a good way to be. It changed after I retired."
"Did you regret it?"
"Retiring?"
"Yes."
"For the first little while, I regretted it all the time."
"Does it get better?"
"I won't lie to you. Sometimes, it doesn't seem better, but most of the time, yes it does. It's how I know it wasn't the wrong thing to do."
David sighs. "I wish I could be sure like Roddick was. He just seemed to know."
"Everyone has doubts, David. If you're thinking about this seriously, if you're not enjoying being on the tour, if your body is giving you trouble, and if you're doubting your ability to win, then maybe it is time for you to retire."
"All I know tennis though. Who am I without tennis?"
"You're not giving up tennis, stupid. You're giving up being a professional tennis player. It's not the same thing."
"That doesn't sound as bad."
"I've found very few things sound as bad as you fear they will when you put them in the proper context. Maybe that's the best advice I can give you."
David's quiet for a moment. "Gaston, I've got to go. Practice," he pauses for half a second. "But thanks. For listening and, you know, the advice."
"Of course. Maybe I should start charging you for the use of my new post-retirement talent."
"Maybe you should, but not too much. In case I retire. I won't have as much money then."
"You'll only have me to pay in that case. I can charge as much as I want. Not too many former tennis players are good listeners, you know."
"You are."
"You have to be if you spend so many hours listening to the voice of sickness in your own head. Yes. Compared to that, your problems are nothing. Now go. You're wasting practice time, and you're still a professional tennis player for now. You can't afford to do that. Time is money after all."
There's a joke to be made there, but he doesn't take the offer of gaiety. Instead, he extends the offer, even though it feels awkward. It's also right. Somehow, it's right.
"Gaston, if you ever... get tired of listening to the voices alone, you can always call me. I need to work on my listening anyway. Coach is always telling me that."
There's a pregnant pause. Then Gaston's voice is back, but quieter, more vulnerable. "Thank you, David."
The goodbyes are short, and he feels better about the decision he made a while back now. More sure of both it and himself, like he knew he would after talking Gaston. Maybe that's Gaston's best hidden talent of all.
Notes:
1. Gaston Gaudio is on record as having dealt with mental illness. The voices of sickness referred to in this fic reference that struggle. In this case, the voices of sickness do not mean literal voices.
2. Nalbandian retired on October 3, 2013 after being out with a shoulder injury since Roland Garros.
3. Title is a quote from Jalal ad-Din Rumi:
“Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.”
by cuentosdelalma
The first time he goes to Gaston for advice, Gaston has just retired and David's pretty sure he's going to get told the other man really doesn't care. Or he's too busy. Or that David's problems are David's problems and not Gaston's.
That's not what happens though. Gaston is good at listening, and he's even better at telling David what he needs to hear without sounding like an ass.
Something his coach doesn't always manage to do.
Now he doesn't get the chance to talk to Gaston as much as he'd like. He spends the time he can talking to Gaston about what the other man is doing after tennis, rehabbing injuries, and what he should do after tennis. It's not like Gaston has a tonne of pressing matters eating up his time, so he always seems happy enough to talk.
Gaston's advice is always surprisingly good. It should probably have stopped surprising David by now, but he never knew Gaston could give out good advice. Maybe retirement changes people.
Gaston never says anything about why he's suddenly able to hand out advice or if he could do it before and just chose not to. Gaston doesn't say a whole lot about his talent in their conversations, which make talks with his coach and trainer seem superfluous.
This is a different conversation though. It's not about rehab, the kids on the tour, the ATP, his coach, or anything like that. It's big. Something bigger than he's ever had to contemplate before. He was too young to really know what he was doing when he chose to play professional tennis, but he's smart enough to realize retiring will change everything.
Retiring is the big choice.
It takes a while for him to finally work up the courage to talk to Gaston about it, to see what the other man thinks. It makes it seem so much more real than when it's just in his head.
Gaston's response is, like always, a surprise to him.
"When you came back last time, why did you do it?"
He has no clue what his last return has to do with him retiring. They're the complete opposite, but this is why he called Gaston. It's why he keeps asking Gaston for advice. Gaston makes him think.
"Because I felt like I'd left things undone. Too many goals weren't finished. I thought..."
"You've finished them now then?" Gaston interrupts.
"No."
"Then why retire now? You came back before to finish goals. What's different about this time?"
"I don't know. It just feels different."
"If you can figure out why it feels different than it did last time, you'll know if it's really time to retire."
"I don't know what's different. I'm older. I feel like an old man on tour now. I'm tired. Maybe I realized I won't be able to do the things I want. I'm never going to win anymore big titles. I don't have the energy to beat these children after playing them one after another all week. Every injury takes longer to recover from, I'm slower on court, and they're quicker and hit harder every time I turn around. What's the point? Better to walk away with dignity."
"You don't enjoy it? There's nothing left in this for you? You're just going through the motions?"
"It doesn't make me feel the way I used to. I feel emptier, like it's just a job."
"Then why ask me? I think you know what you need to do."
"What if I'm doing the wrong thing?"
He hears a frustrated sigh. "It took you long enough to get to the actual question you wanted to ask."
"It's not easy. I'm not used to getting advice from anyone outside my team. And they don't make me ask all these questions. They just tell me what I need to know."
"No. They tell you what they think you want to hear. It's more that you're not used to taking advice from people you don't pay to tell you things. Why ask me then?"
"Because you're good at it. I never noticed it when you were on tour, but you've got a talent for it. I need someone who's good at advice right now. I need someone who isn't afraid to tell me what I don't want to hear."
"I learned who I was a as a person after I put my tennis racquet down. For a long time, at the end, it felt like I was nothing more than an extension of the arm swinging the racquet. That's how I knew. It wasn't a good way to be. It changed after I retired."
"Did you regret it?"
"Retiring?"
"Yes."
"For the first little while, I regretted it all the time."
"Does it get better?"
"I won't lie to you. Sometimes, it doesn't seem better, but most of the time, yes it does. It's how I know it wasn't the wrong thing to do."
David sighs. "I wish I could be sure like Roddick was. He just seemed to know."
"Everyone has doubts, David. If you're thinking about this seriously, if you're not enjoying being on the tour, if your body is giving you trouble, and if you're doubting your ability to win, then maybe it is time for you to retire."
"All I know tennis though. Who am I without tennis?"
"You're not giving up tennis, stupid. You're giving up being a professional tennis player. It's not the same thing."
"That doesn't sound as bad."
"I've found very few things sound as bad as you fear they will when you put them in the proper context. Maybe that's the best advice I can give you."
David's quiet for a moment. "Gaston, I've got to go. Practice," he pauses for half a second. "But thanks. For listening and, you know, the advice."
"Of course. Maybe I should start charging you for the use of my new post-retirement talent."
"Maybe you should, but not too much. In case I retire. I won't have as much money then."
"You'll only have me to pay in that case. I can charge as much as I want. Not too many former tennis players are good listeners, you know."
"You are."
"You have to be if you spend so many hours listening to the voice of sickness in your own head. Yes. Compared to that, your problems are nothing. Now go. You're wasting practice time, and you're still a professional tennis player for now. You can't afford to do that. Time is money after all."
There's a joke to be made there, but he doesn't take the offer of gaiety. Instead, he extends the offer, even though it feels awkward. It's also right. Somehow, it's right.
"Gaston, if you ever... get tired of listening to the voices alone, you can always call me. I need to work on my listening anyway. Coach is always telling me that."
There's a pregnant pause. Then Gaston's voice is back, but quieter, more vulnerable. "Thank you, David."
The goodbyes are short, and he feels better about the decision he made a while back now. More sure of both it and himself, like he knew he would after talking Gaston. Maybe that's Gaston's best hidden talent of all.
Notes:
1. Gaston Gaudio is on record as having dealt with mental illness. The voices of sickness referred to in this fic reference that struggle. In this case, the voices of sickness do not mean literal voices.
2. Nalbandian retired on October 3, 2013 after being out with a shoulder injury since Roland Garros.
3. Title is a quote from Jalal ad-Din Rumi:
“Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.”