Especially if you’re an introvert, like me, from a place where nobody would expect you to succeed in tennis. Well, at least didn’t expect it until now.
After Roland Garros, things had been pretty normal when I was in France. But when I got back to Poland? In Poland, it was really different.
My family was invited to an award ceremony at the presidential palace. This was three days after the finals. They were honoring me with a medal, and paparazzi followed us. I live outside of Warsaw, and surprisingly, they were waiting in front of my house with cameras.
So it’s me, my dad, and a security officer in the car, and my dad’s driving. And it feels like we’re going really fast, flying past all these blurry stores. My dad’s checking the mirrors and turning onto side streets. It looked like a scene in an American movie — ha ha. It sounds scary, but we were having fun and laughing the whole way into the city.
Even now, something like that feels weird to talk about — it’s usually not really Polish way to speak about your accomplishments, to be honest. But I think about that day a lot. In the moment, there was all this adrenaline.
Pure adrenaline — that’s the only way I can think to explain what it was like. Nothing could have prepared me for it. Winning my first Slam obviously changed everything for me, overnight. There are still many places in the world where for sure I’m not going to be recognized. If a random person looks at me, they’re not going to say, Oh, she’s an athlete, she plays tennis. But not in Poland. I’ve actually had some situations where people recognized me by my voice when I was ordering something to eat.
I’m grateful, but truthfully, sometimes it all feels strange and disorienting.
When I win, and I’m in that moment on court, or even just seeing a picture of me being on court, I feel so much emotion. But to be honest, as surreal as it is, I just don’t care very much about being on billboards or anything like that.
But it’s funny the way memories work, because when I think about winning Roland Garros that first time and driving into Warsaw three days later, I don’t really think about any of the craziness. Or the medal or the ceremony. Or even the chasing paparazzi. I mostly just remember my dad driving the car. I remember looking over at him, and seeing a big grin on his face.
He always believed. Even before I did. Which either makes him a really great dad or really crazy — ha ha.
