“I’m trying to get better at golf,” Federer mused, “I would love to start with an instrument again. I used to play the piano, so when I have more time, I’d like to dive into that because my four children and my wife play the piano.
“I hope I’m a good listener and a good decision-maker. Hopefully I’m a guy who people enjoy being around. I’m a big family guy. I love being surrounded by my friends – that’s really the priority in my life.”
For decades, the global perception of the Philippine nation has been defined by labor export and structural economic migration. The world has grown accustomed to seeing Filipinos through a lens of subordination—as domestic helpers, seafarers, nurses, and service workers. While these roles represent honest work and undeniable fortitude, they have allowed the outside world to view our people as permanently consigned to the socioeconomic periphery: a third-world population ill-equipped to compete in spaces reserved for global privilege.
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| Alex Eala |
Eala’s emergence fundamentally dismantles that quiet prejudice. Her trajectory invites a necessary parallel to the late Arthur Ashe. When Ashe broke through the racial barriers of elite tennis in the 1960s, his presence was more than athletic; it was an explicit disruption of institutional exclusion. He proved that composure, tactical intelligence, and sustained excellence could dismantle the deeply held assumption that certain spaces belonged exclusively to certain people.
That historical thread reaches a poignant milestone at the upcoming US Open in Flushing Meadows. Given her ranking and global draw, tournament officials may well schedule Eala to play on Arthur Ashe Stadium—the centerpiece court named after the man who first broke tennis’ color line. For a Filipino woman to step onto that exact court, under the night lights of New York, represents a moment of profound symbolic weight.
Yet her rise also exposes a sobering truth about our domestic sports establishment. Eala’s development did not occur through traditional, underfunded Philippine sports federations. Recognizing the limitations of our local system early on, her family secured elite European training at the Rafa Nadal Academy in Spain, allowing her to acquire world-class technical conditioning while continuing to proudly carry the Philippine flag. Her trajectory illustrates that while Filipino talent is vast, our domestic institutions often lack the structural support necessary to cultivate it to its ultimate potential.
What international commentators find so astounding is not merely her baseline game or left-handed forehand, but the absolute composure. She does not play with the timid deference often expected of athletes from peripheral nations. She plays as an equal among equals.
For a nation long accustomed to being looked down upon, Eala’s success offers something far more durable than fleeting pride. It provides a sharp, undeniable refutation of the idea that Filipinos are inherently limited to subordinate roles on the world stage. Her presence at the highest echelons of professional tennis proves that when given equal preparation and opportunity, the Filipino can stand unbowed in any arena—country clubs included.
ATTY. JAMES D. LANSANG
Maybe you have a favorite. If so, we have given you some ammunition to make your argument while you are waiting for the next match at Rod Laver Arena or Arthur Ashe Stadium.
But no matter who your choice is, it is clear that Federer’s retirement is the beginning of the end of a Golden Age for men’s tennis. Maybe young Carlos Alcaraz will scare some of these numbers in 20 years or so. Or maybe we will never see the likes of Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic, at least all at the same time, again.
Some metrics on the big three.
As the story goes, Serena Williams' rise began before she was born.
In 1979, her father Richard watched a women's tennis match on TV and saw the Romanian player Virginia Ruzici win $40,000 - about $4,000 more than his annual salary.
"I went and told my wife we had to have two more girls and make them tennis players," he recalled, 20 years later. "I was 37 and knew nothing about tennis but I thought we could teach them and they could win the US Open."
On 26 September 1981, Williams arrived - 15 months after her sister Venus. By the time the pair turned pro in the mid-1990s they were already making waves.
"There was a rage inside these two little kids," says Rick Macci, the Florida-based coach who helped guide them through their developmental years.
"They were just ready. I called it when they were nine, 10 years old. I said: 'They're gonna be world number one and they're going to transcend the sport.'"
