I remember Monica
At the US Open
She might have been sixteen
Couldn't have been much more
Answering some questions and giggling
I'd never seen
Someone so alive on TV before

Do you remember Monica
Shrieking on her backhand
Disguising herself when she went out at night?
Coloring her hair
Like something was telling her
Stay low, invisible
And out of sight

And then, Monica
The blade came, Monica
Like God spitting on you
A knife in your back
We read it in the paper
And moved on to other things
But for you all the colors
Fade to black

And oh, Monica
There you are, Monica
On the cross with Jesus
And Martin Luther King
Just like John Lennon by that hotel
You have to pay for our sins

Was it like being raped?
Was it like being dead?
Like a bad movie over and over again?
Then did everyone who came close to you
Suddenly hold a knife in their hand?

And now, you're back, Monica
Grim and hammering
Trying not to think about that thing then
I hope that you win every medal you can win
But it may never be much fun again

And oh, Monica
There you are, Monica
On the cross with Jesus
And Martin Luther King
Just like John Lennon by that hotel
You have to pay for our sins
Just like Jesus by that hotel
You have to pay for our sins

["Monica" by Dan Bern]

--
Andrew Broad
http://www.cs.man.ac.uk/~broada/
http://www.cs.man.ac.uk/~broada/tennis/
http://www.cs.man.ac.uk/~broada/tennis/seles/