I grew up watching McEnroe and have no doubt he was the greatest tennis player of all time. I also know that he was hot headed and a perfectionist.
But this story is really more about the bittersweet realities of the after party, when the spotlight of fame fades and retirement forces once-famous athletes to face another set of equally challenging realities. The constant thread of John walking alone on dark Manhattan streets, answering public phones as if they're calls from the afterlife, came across as a bit dreary and over-wrought.
I would have preferred to see more of his youth and beginnings in tennis; where he practiced, who his coaches were, what they had to say about him, his life at school, with friends.
The general impression was that he was suddenly THE John McEnroe and walking onto the court at Wimbledon with Jimmy Connors, who purportedly ignored him.
Light on the beef, in my opinion.
But this story is really more about the bittersweet realities of the after party, when the spotlight of fame fades and retirement forces once-famous athletes to face another set of equally challenging realities. The constant thread of John walking alone on dark Manhattan streets, answering public phones as if they're calls from the afterlife, came across as a bit dreary and over-wrought.
I would have preferred to see more of his youth and beginnings in tennis; where he practiced, who his coaches were, what they had to say about him, his life at school, with friends.
The general impression was that he was suddenly THE John McEnroe and walking onto the court at Wimbledon with Jimmy Connors, who purportedly ignored him.
Light on the beef, in my opinion.