What could be going on inside the four-time grand slam winner’s head? Impossible to say,because Osaka has lain low since six weeks ago when shewithdrew from the French Open after refusing to attend media conferences. She did not play at Wimbledon in June,citing ongoing mental health concerns. You would think carrying Japanese hopes at the Olympic Games is the last thing the 23-year-old needs.

Osaka has continued to attract criticism,uninformed in the past few days,about the release of the documentary and a cover shoot forSports Illustrated magazine this week. On social media,Osaka replied to the criticism by saying she had produced these before the past six weeks when her public anxieties overwhelmed her. While successfully rebutting that particular criticism,she was of course confirming the broader point,which is that she is still suffering from extreme discomfort about speaking in public.

Her nationality has also attracted controversy. Born in Japan,Osaka left for the United States at the age of three. Her mother,Tamaki Osaka,is Japanese,and her father,Leonard Francois,is Haitian. They made incalculable sacrifices,even sleeping in cars,to put their daughters on tennis courts for eight hours a day.

They schooled them at home,leaving the poignant image of Osaka dreaming of an everywoman school-and-college experience which is now impossible for her. Her parents’ sacrifices was the original obligation taken on by Osaka,whosince the death of George Floyd has extended her sense of indebtedness to all “half-Asian-half-black” people,she says in her documentary,explaining that her public activism in the Black Lives Matter movement has been in part motivated by wanting to show the world that there are many colours to the anti-racist cause.

Unreasonably,she has been picked on for choosing Japan as her country. Describing herself as her “mother’s daughter”,Osaka has played under the Japanese flag since she was 14. Two years ago,having reached the age where Japanese law demanded exclusive nationality,she became a Japanese citizen solely. In her sport,she says,“You’re kind of by yourself”,but in these Olympics she will be a uniform-wearer for her country,a member of a team. This might lighten the load,or,given the circumstances,it might not.

The self that Osaka has portrayed in her short but stellar career,both on and off the court,has been somewhat forlorn. She tells us that she derives all of her self-worth from tennis:“What am I,if I’m not a good tennis player?” Troublingly,victory seems to offer little more happiness than defeat.

Even the spoils fall short;when Osaka moved into a spectacular new house,she cried all night,scared of unfamiliar noises. This does not appear to be a woman who is using “mental health” as a shield or an excuse,but someone who is suffering a breakdown under the full global glare.

One of Osaka’s most frequent self-descriptors is the word “vessel”. She is a vessel for the hopes of others. She plays tennis to serve others. In failure,as much as success,she feels like a representative more than an individual. Who could dare call her American rather than Japanese?

Under the extraordinary conditions of this event,should Osaka lose a match and need solitude in Tokyo,she will have to find somewhere other than the city streets. There is nowhere to go either inside or outside the bubble,and presumably little privacy for a national hero. Like the games themselves and all the people of Tokyo,Osaka is striving to get an inconvenient job done with the maximum of grace and without leaving any damage,putting the Olympics behind her without leaving the health situation worse. Here,in the ambivalent Olympiad,she personifies ambivalence.

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