Ash applies no-fear factor and reaps ultimate reward

Put it on a T-shirt. Ash Barty’s simple playbook became a three-step plan to winning.

Ash Barty with Australian tennis legend Rod Laver after her French Open win

Ash Barty is sitting on a plastic seat. She’s just told a press conference that she fears nobody in women’s professional tennis. Now we’re on our own. A one-on-one discussion. She’s asked to go deeper. Tell us why you fear nobody. Tell us whether you actually believe those words with all your heart and soul. Her next remark is a good ‘un.

She’s treating this rather casual chat in an empty room at the Sydney International tournament with absolute professionalism and enthusiasm, beaming: “OK, let’s make this a good one!” Told that not all athletes regard Q&As with journalists so joyfully, she says something about doing everything right this year. Every training session. Every match. Every off-court commitment. They will get her full and frank attention.

She says if she’s going to be a professional tennis player, she’s going to be a really, really professional tennis player. She talks a million miles an hour until she’s asked about the fearing nobody thing. It’s a cute line, eh? But do you really, really mean it? Or are you trying to convince yourself of it by saying it aloud? Why don’t you fear big, bad Serena Williams? Why don’t you fear Naomi Osaka?

Barty stares at her feet, goes quiet. Her eyes grow large and sincere as if she’s asking herself the same thing.

Do I really fear none of them?

This is back in January. Back when she’s outside the top 10. Back when she hasn’t even come close to winning a major. It’s about five long seconds before she replies. Her eyes are on fire now. She says it forcefully, slowly, quietly: “Fear won’t get you anywhere, mate.”

Put it on a T-shirt. Fear won’t get you anywhere, mate. Barty has gone to the Australian Open and lost in the quarter-finals to Petra Kvitova. She hasn’t played great, but she hasn’t played scared, either.

She’s moved on to the Miami Open. She’s won the biggest tournament of her life. It’s where she utters another couple of lines that stick in the memory bank for the simplicity and the soul in them. After the win that has lifted her into the top 10 on the world rankings, she says: “It’s amazing what happens when you put your hopes and dreams out into the universe and do the work, you know? It’s amazing.”

Rid yourself of fear. Tell the universe what you want. Do the work. That’s been Barty’s playbook this year. That’s been the three-step plan to winning the French Open by playing the single most perfect match of your life in the final.

What a story. The junior phenomenon. The feeling of suffocation and sadness. The bold decision to walk away. Girl, interrupted. The return. The evolution of a down-and-out teenager to the mighty young woman who’s won the French Open.

A beautiful Australian succeeding in a beautiful sport. Settling on a clear and concise idea of how to make it work. Being professional in every possible regard, from her major drama at Roland Garros to potentially pesky interviews on plastic seats at the Sydney International. Whatever it is, do it thoroughly. Do it wholeheartedly. Do it right.

She’s become the sort of athlete we adore. The sort of athlete we stay up until 1am for. The sort of athlete who reminds us why we love sport as much as we do. The sort of athlete who shows the world the glowing side to Australia.

She’s representing us in the most glorious possible fashion. She’s touching something in people who’ve never shown much interest in tennis. A dear old bloke at my local RSL club has put down his beer ahead of schedule on Saturday night. He’s planned to get home and get to bed for a few hours before his alarm gets him up at 11pm. “Gotta watch Barty,” he says.

Mature-age players at my local club have finessed a backhand approach and shouted: “Ash Barty!” More kids are getting lessons there than I’ve seen in years.

At sunrise yesterday, on the local headland, two surfers have been waxing their boards. One of them has asked the other: “Barty win?”

She’s become an embodiment of Sir Donald Bradman’s ideal of a semi-decent individual and competitor.

“When considering the stature of an athlete or for that matter any person, I set great store in certain qualities which I believe to be essential in addition to skill,” Bradman once said. “They are that the person conducts his or her life with dignity, with integrity, with courage, and perhaps most of all, modesty. These virtues are totally compatible with pride, ambition and competitiveness.’ Barty’s as Australian as Cold Chisel doing Khe San h. Before a US Open doubles match a few years ago, she’s warmed up by kicking a Sherrin out the back of Flushing Meadows. Had a reliable boot, too. She’s grabbed a beer or two after her successful raid on Paris. Three photographs of her have been tugging at the heart strings.

The first photo: a cherubic young girl is holding a Dunlop racquet and one of her first trophies. (She’s won so many trophies in juniors that she’s removed her name plate and given loads of them to clubs around Ipswich when they’ve needed to save a few bob.) Look at the face in that photo. It’s possibly the cutest photo in existence. She’s excited to the point of bursting.

The second photo: Barty with Rod Laver at Roland Garros. His support of Barty, and his admiration for her, has been beautiful. They’ve already hugged on the court, Laver getting red clay on his nice dress shoes. And then they’ve held hands. But in one particular snapshot, they’re side by side, and she’s leaning into him as if she’s felt and understood the depth of his affection. For what she’s done, and the way she has done it.

The third photo: Nearly two decades after she’s started accumulating trophies, during the presentation ceremony at Roland Garros, she’s taken a quick moment to hug a trophy she won’t be giving away, the Suzanne-Lenglen Cup. And you can see that same little cherubic girl with all the same bursting emotions. She’s asked the universe for this, she’s done the work, she’s feared nobody in pursuit of her hopes and dreams. She’s already described it for us. Twice. It’s amazing. It’s amazing.