I Found My Joy in Tennis Again and Wrote This Article About It :)

I always talk about divine timing … if you know me, you know I’m super spiritual. I go on meditation retreats and believe in the power of manifestation and practice mindfulness. I get that it’s not for everybody, and that’s OK. I’m not trying to sell anything. But if I’m going to write my story, I have to be true to myself and tell it in a way that’s meaningful to me. So if you’re coming on this ride, you have to believe. Some people will say, “This is just hippie shit.” No. If you’d been through what I have, I think you would also start to ask questions about what it all means. Maybe we will figure it out together. So for this article, try opening your mind a little. Cool? Then if you’re down, let’s start with some easy breathwork. We’re gonna do a three-stage meditation. Inhale … and exhale. 

Inhale — big breath. 

Now, hold it….

Hold it….

Stage 1: Body

“In-N-Out after the tournament, after the sweet victory.” Me and my coach were saying that all week. That was our mantra. Every match, I almost couldn’t believe that I won. This was my first Indian Wells, in 2019. I would ask my coach, “What just happened? I won that? What’s going on?” It was surreal. You’re around Nadal and Federer and Djokovic, and it’s shocking in a way that you’re part of that group. Especially when you get into the later rounds. Quarters, semis, you’re getting a lot more media attention. You’re seeing your name all over social media. That’s when it really starts to set in.

The final came around, and it’s like, I’m playing 3x Grand Slam champion, Angelique Kerber. At the time, there was this whole thing around it on social media because I was one of the first wild cards in Indian Wells history to reach the final, and the youngest one. The night before, I was texting my mom … my parents were feeling that same shock. They were like, “Bianca, what’s going on??? You’re in the finals!!!” Obviously, they believed in me a hundred percent. They had no doubts in their mind since I was a baby that I was going to do big things. But when it actually happens, it’s totally different. Nothing prepares you for it. 

By the time I walked out on the court for my match against Angelique, all the nerves had left my body. My arm was taped up. But nothing was going to stop me from playing my game. I was drop-shotting, slicing, hitting heavy high shots, coming to the net. At the time, you could bring your coach during changeovers if you needed, so I did. It was in the third set. It was so hot I had blisters on my feet, the points were extremely long, and my body was wearing out. I’ll never forget, he said, “Bianca, you can do it. This is yours. You’re born for this.” And that confidence really propelled me. I remember lying on the ground and thinking, Holy shit, you actually did it. I thought, I’m going to bring this trophy home to my parents! I owe them so much. That was the first taste I ever had of true, true victory.

This is the part in the movie where they’ll play my song “Hot Girl Summer” by Megan Thee Stallion (a little R-rated lol, but the title was the motto all summer), so play it on your phone or something (: Now picture me taking a big bite of a burger at In-N-Out, getting in the car with my coach and driving to LAX through the beautiful California desert. We hit the road, and for that hour and a half, I was just trying to reply to everybody I could. Then I hopped on a plane and landed at 1 a.m. in Miami. 

Flash forward, it’s the first round in Miami — I’m down 5–2, 40–love in the third set. Ninety-nine times out of 100, that match is over, right? I remember thinking, You know what? Fuck it. And I said something to myself like, You’re coming off a W. You have nothing to lose. Just go for it. And I won. I was wrong though…. That match ended up being the start of a major shoulder injury for me. It was super painful. By the time I got to the fourth round, I could barely raise my arm and had to retire. I ended up being out for a few months. It was sort of this bad habit I developed at the time — where, after I cracked the top eight, I had this mindset that nothing was going to stop me from playing and winning. It’s like I got greedy. But no one is unstoppable, you know? The shoulder injury was my first lesson in that. 

I did compete in the French Open, but I ended up having to pull out in the second round due to more pain because I came back too soon. That was another lesson I had to learn. I was very sad and had to take more time off, meaning I had to skip Wimbledon. But I didn’t lose hope because my next tournament would be the Rogers Cup in Toronto. I was tearing up at Indian Wells, but I was literally bawling my eyes out at Rogers. I mean it’s my hometown, it’s Serena Williams in the final … it doesn’t get better than that, right? I loved Serena growing up, and I still love her now. She’s incredible. I was so nervous heading into our match, but my coach said, “Imagine how she’s feeling. She’s playing this up-and-coming Canadian at the Canadian Open, and she doesn’t like going against players with your variety.” He was so motivating. Like, “Shift your mindset. Think like she’s the one shitting her pants, not you.” So I said fake it till you make it, even though I was still wiping my tears walking onto the court. I was still in this place where I had to train my mind up to think, I deserve to be here, and I deserve to win.

That moment really prepared me — so when I got to the US Open final, a few weeks later, I was way more composed. I had learned to embrace this calming confidence, and that whole tournament I just let it wash over me. Before the final, there was a clip that went viral of me  jamming in the tunnel while waiting to walk out. And it’s funny to look back on, but it’s also a good example of where my mindset was at the time. I was getting ready to play the biggest match of my life … and in my head, I was just bopping around to “Hot Girl Summer” (of course). I was so calm and confident about it.

And then I fricking WON it. 

I’m sorry, What? 

It’s hard for me to put into perspective even now. I remember I went on Jimmy Fallon after, and people were literally following me taking pictures. I felt like a celebrity. And in a way, I was — I’d just won the US Open. But it didn’t feel real. None of it did. I mean, how does this shy teenager from Mississauga win Indian Wells, the Canadian Open, and the US Open in their first year on tour? How do you, in one year, go from juniors to No. 5 in the world??

But the thing is … my body couldn’t handle it. I was getting injured and injured and injured. I was always so tired. After matches, I would just plump on the bed and legit not move a muscle. I would play through every pain, and I would win. To the point where that became the expectation — winning. And at first, I didn’t associate it with pressure. I didn’t experience it like an unfair expectation that people thought I would win. It was more like it instilled this confidence in me that they believed that I could.

Looking back on everything, the only thing I really regret is that I didn’t live in the moment a little bit more, to be honest. Everything was so hectic, and rushed. Even the celebration after the final. I had a good time, but I just wish I savored it a lot more.  And as weird as it sounds, I think the reason that I didn’t was because in the back of my mind I thought I was going to keep winning. On the one hand, that year was insane. Unreal. Every day was a new crazy experience that I’d never experienced before. Like, How is this my life?? But on the other hand, it was also like I was getting used to something? If that makes sense. I thought winning was going to be my normal. I mean, if somebody’s on a 17-match win streak, you just think they’re gonna keep winning, right? But no.

Stage 2: Awareness

I was super excited to play the next Indian Wells, in 2020, which was in March. I was the defending champion. Well I got there, and three days in, they called a complete lockdown. Covid hit. Obviously, no one could have predicted that. It was crazy. No one expected it to be longer than six weeks, but of course weeks turned into months. Usually when people do well at the US Open, they’ll do well at the Australian, because it’s a few months away. But I got injured at the end of 2019. Then after I got back healthy, I couldn’t defend my Indian Wells title because of Covid. I couldn’t ride the wave. The universe was like, “Nope. Not today.” 

Going into 2021, I was still No. 7 in the world, but I hadn’t played for a year and two months. I would tell myself, If 2019 can happen, 2021 can happen. It can just be the same thing. But I realized that it’s not. I started coming to the reality of the tour: losing every single week. And it hit hard. I didn’t know what that felt like in 2019. So when I started experiencing those losses, it was like a stab in the heart.

French Open 2021, I lost in the first round. It was the first time I ever lost in the first round of a tournament … and it was bad. I remember I got off the court, went straight to the first bathroom I saw, dropped my bags and started crying. I mean, looking back now, I can laugh because I’m like, Wtf, B?? But at the time, it felt so bad. I locked myself in there for two hours. I was like paralyzed on the ground. People were knocking and knocking, but I couldn’t open the door. That bathroom was designated for Bianca Andreescu for the time being. I laid on the floor thinking, Why me?? Why is this happening to me? I already suffered these injuries … wasn’t that enough?? And the worst one: You suck.

Then I went on social media because misery loves company. I go and look at my Instagram message requests so I can get all that negativity in me … I read all these hateful messages on purpose. I already felt so negative, and it’s like I wanted to feel worse. I don’t even want to repeat what they said, honestly, they were so bad. But you can only imagine. Go eff yourself. I’m going to find you. I’m going to effing kill you. That type of thing. It was so dark. I told myself I’d never do that again.

But I was wrong. Wimbledon, the same thing happened. Except this time I locked myself in my room, instead of the bathroom … just staring up at the ceiling contemplating my life. Montreal … then Cincinnati. Everything like clockwork. That’s when it really started hitting me: I didn’t want to be on court. I would hit a forehand, and I didn’t care if it was in or out. I just wanted to get off the court as soon as possible. Don’t get me wrong, I never tanked — but I pretty much knew that I couldn’t win. But it wasn’t just that I didn’t feel like my game was there, I felt all over the place, mentally. I kept comparing myself to 2019. Always looking towards the past. Then I just stopped caring. I started to feel a little bit better when I got to the US Open. I played Maria Sakkari, and it was a super close match … but after, I had a full body cramp in the locker room, to the extent that I almost went to the hospital. That was the moment where, if it weren’t for Indian Wells, I would’ve been like, This is not worth it. I’m done. Shit just keeps happening. But it’s Indian Wells. Defending champ, two years later. I had to see it through.

In 2021, Indian Wells was moved from March to October. Defending champions are invited to stay in private housing and I happened to stay at this beautiful mansion in Indian Wells. Something like 15 bedrooms, 18 baths. It was the house where Roger Federer used to stay when he would come to Indian Wells. Since Roger didn’t come that October, the house was offered to me. It has big, big double doors at the front, and when you open them, you walk into this foyer with a shimmering chandelier. Then you walk down these steps to the living area, where there’s a huge couch with four flat screen TVs, playing all different kinds of sports. Gift baskets everywhere. You turn to the left, and there’s a beautiful kitchen, all marble, and another living room. There’s a wine cellar downstairs. Two pools. Your own tennis court. Access to a golf course. There were even pictures of me and my family??? No, seriously. They had been framed. It was like this weird paradise.

Everything was perfect on the outside. But on the inside, I felt so empty. I had always been happy and bubbly, but I had completely changed as a person. And I felt guilty for how I was feeling because it’s like, I have such an amazing life. Look at this. Both my parents were with me, my doggy. Everything was supposed to be great. I struggled to get through that first match then I played Anett Kontaveit. I’ve never felt like that ever in a match.  I felt like crap. Feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t even want to be on court. It was that bad. I didn’t feel angry. I didn’t even want to cry. I was numb. And the saddest part was, I didn’t feel like I deserved the crowd’s support. 

My team knew that something was off, but I never told them the full extent of it. But my parents and my friends … I couldn’t hold back. Even though a lot of the time I didn’t like talking about it because I didn’t want it to feel real, we had a decent amount of  conversations leading up to this moment, and I’m very grateful for them. So the next morning, I texted my team: “I need to sit down with you guys, SOS.” When everybody came into the room, I said “I can’t do this anymore.” And right then I started bawling because I held it in for so long. 

Stage 3: Release

My parents are the best. They have never been pushy about tennis. They immigrated from Romania to Canada with very little English but a good education. They didn’t have a lot of money and were debating to sell our house to cover all the costs. If it wasn’t for Tennis Canada, I don’t know where I’d be. My parents always say we would’ve figured it out, but who knows? So they were always super chill, win or lose. I was the one who was hard on myself. I hated losing. It was the end of the world for me. I’ll never forget this moment when I lost in the semifinals of this junior event when I was 12. It was super close, and I couldn’t stop crying for maybe an hour after the match. On the ride home, my mom started crying with me. Then my dad started crying as well. It just spread through the herd, and we were all crying in the car!

So there, in that mansion in Indian Wells, I told everyone I was going to take a break from tennis, indefinitely. My parents looked at me with so much compassion. I could see real sadness in their eyes. Obviously, it’s not easy to see their child feel like this. They were like, “Bianca, if you don’t play tennis tomorrow, and you want to go sell roses off the side of the road, we will still love you. We will always love you.” And at that moment, so much weight lifted off my shoulders. I was relieved. My team was also very supportive. That same day, I started searching for retreats. I remember seeing how beautiful Costa Rica was in Zac Efron’s documentary series, Down to Earth, so I started there. I’ve always been a spiritual person, but at that point, I was becoming even more curious about that side of life because I had been through a lot and wanted answers. I experienced some of the highest highs and the lowest lows. And I’m thankful, because that’s what led me to really discovering who I really am.

My first year on tour, all I had in my head was, Have fun. Whatever happens, happens. Enjoy the ride. And going on that magical run is a flame that will burn in my heart forever. Winning those tournaments felt like it was meant to be, in a way. Those moments lying on the court after a big win were so pure. I can’t necessarily relate to that person anymore. I don’t remember how that really feels, that nothing can stop you. I want to feel like that again. That’s probably how Iga Świątek feels right now. She’s incredible, incredible. Aryna Sabalenka is another great example. They’ve both always had great consistency, and that’s what I’m reaching for now, the consistency of playing day in, day out and really enjoying the process. 

It hit me randomly sometime during this recent break: Holy shit, I’m never going to be that girl again. Because once you know something, you can never go back to the state of not knowing. So there’s a loss of innocence, in a sense, that I had to learn to accept. And I was only able to do that after going on a spiritual journey. I found purpose in something bigger than myself. I remember one time, I went on a week-long retreat, where I spent hours in stillness, just listening. And I had this weird dream. I can’t exactly describe what I saw, because dreams. But I just remember feeling so much joy and happiness. And love. And I realized that, through tennis, I can reach people. When you open your eyes after a meditation like that, you kind of wake up for the first time, in this weird way. You’re conscious. 

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OK We did it. We’ve reached the end of our meditation. That wasn’t so bad, right? Inhale some good, and exhale all that negative pent up energy. All of that’s gone.

It’s crazy to think it’s been five years. I’m 24 years old. I still have so much to learn, but those years make a world of difference. Life for me now is mainly about cherishing every moment. My grandfather passed away two years ago, and my grandmother on my dad’s side has Alzheimer’s. Those kinds of struggles have a way of putting things into perspective. My grandmother on my mom’s side, we call her buni Ana, in Romanian. She’s like my biggest fan. She watches all my matches and prays for me every day. She’s actually my coach, too, in a funny way. She gets mad at me when I don’t play my game. She’s like, “Bianca, your game is so aggressive, it’s beautiful to watch. But you have to come to the net more … you have so many opportunities!” Noted buni, haha. I love her so much. I hope she can see me hold at least one more trophy. That’s my biggest goal. And I know my grandfathers are always looking down on me. 

Thinking about my family makes me want to give every breath I have on court. When you play for others — for family, for country, and for everyone who has been through something — tennis becomes not like a game. It becomes your most important mission on earth. I’m not just playing for myself, I’m playing to inspire. Even if I lose, let’s say, if I give my best then I’m still winning, because people can see my faith and perseverance. And maybe they can feel their own version of that. This was the biggest realization I’ve come to.

There was a time when I lost my joy in tennis. But I found it again. And I learned that I will always love tennis deep in my heart, no matter what. It has given me so much. So much that whenever I leave the tunnel and step out onto the court, I always feel a bit of that magic from before. I still think that anything is possible. 

And I don’t know, maybe that makes me crazy.

Or maybe, just maybe…. 

I’m enlightened.