The Fault Is Not Mine

Sometimes life feels like you’re stuck at 6–6 in the final set — all nerves, all urgency, no room to breathe. But not every moment needs to be a match point. Some of the best things happen when you let the rally go long and see where it takes you.

There’s a certain rush in a tiebreaker. Every point is urgent, every mistake magnified, every winner worth a fist pump. It’s addictive — that edge-of-your-seat feeling where you’re dialled in, hyper-focused, heart pounding. But you can’t live there forever.

In tennis, the beauty isn’t just in the high-pressure deciders. It’s in the slow burn of a set that twists and turns. The rallies that start with a tentative slice and end with an audacious drop shot. The points where nothing much seems to happen — until you realise you’ve been drawn into something quietly brilliant.

Life’s the same. You can’t be in crisis mode 24/7, even if you’ve convinced yourself you work best under pressure. Not everything needs an immediate winner. Some things — the important things — need time to breathe. A relationship. A career change. Figuring out who you are now versus who you were five years ago.

Sometimes, the most satisfying victories come when you stop pressing for the finish line and just play the point in front of you.

So yes — embrace the tiebreakers when they come. Rise to them. Feel the thrill. But remember to let the rest of the match unfold, point by point. You might just find the best parts happen between the big moments.

📖 Quick Take:
The follow-up to You Cannot Be Serious, this memoir sees McEnroe reflecting on life after his fiery days on the tennis court. It’s less about serve-and-volley brilliance and more about family, broadcasting, art, and the ongoing balancing act between private life and public persona.

✍️ My Thoughts:
McEnroe’s voice is as distinctive on the page as it is behind a microphone—dryly funny, self-aware, and never short of an opinion. But Seriously offers a peek into the mind of someone who has lived multiple lives: Grand Slam champion, commentator, art gallery owner, husband, father.

Where the first memoir thrived on the raw energy of his career highs and lows, this one feels calmer, more introspective. There’s a lot to enjoy in the anecdotes about fellow players, celebrity encounters, and the odd broadcasting drama, but some sections wander into familiar territory from his first book, which can make it feel a bit padded.

What surprised me most was the warmth—he’s still McEnroe (blunt, occasionally prickly), but there’s a reflective edge that comes with time and perspective.

💌 Vibe Check:
🎾 Life after the limelight
🎤 Behind-the-scenes sports media
🖼 Tennis meets the art world
💬 Still telling it like it is

💬 Favourite Line:
"You can’t live your whole life like it’s a tiebreaker—sometimes you’ve got to let it play out."

⭐️ Final Rating:
3 stars. Engaging and witty, but more of a gentle rally than a five-set thriller.

Honestly, I can’t think of many things that beat either scenario. On a sunny day, it’s the kind of iced coffee that beads with condensation before you’ve even taken the first sip, paired with the satisfying creak of an old bookshop door. The sunlight filters through high windows, catching in the dust motes and making the spines on the shelves gleam like a rainbow of well-loved treasures. There’s a lightness to it—a sense of possibility—that maybe today you’ll discover that book, the one you didn’t even know you needed.

Rainy-day bookshop visits are an entirely different kind of bliss. The air is rich with the scent of wet pavement and freshly brewed coffee, the rain pattering against the windows as you wrap your hands around a warm mug. The world outside might be grey and hurried, but inside, time slows. You linger over hardbacks you’ll never quite convince yourself to buy, stroke the covers of new releases, and tuck yourself into a corner chair to read the first few pages of something that just feels right.

I’ve always thought of bookshops as the perfect in-between place—somewhere between adventure and sanctuary. And whether the coffee is iced or hot, the magic is the same: you walk in carrying the day’s weather with you, and you leave with a little more than you came for. Usually in the form of a paper bag and a slightly lighter bank account.

So tell me—are you a sunshine-and-iced-coffee reader, or do you live for the rainy-day-hot-coffee kind of bookstore bliss?