Amelie Mauresmo probably doesn’t appreciate being analyzed to death. She is no doubt sick of people trying to figure out why she can’t win the big one. But it’s hard to resist poking and probing her psyche because she’s so talented and yet so mentally fragile.

Pat Davis, the co-writer of this column, captured this conundrum exceptionally well in her column, Analyzing Amelie. Unfortunately for Amelie, I have even more to say about it.

Pat thinks that the only reason a player is out on the court is to win a championship. In her view: “That’s the problem with her game. Amelie can’t really go in for the kill. She can’t even say she’d kick a little butt or two. Well, then why are you here? What are you doing on the tennis court?”

I disagree. Not everyone is on the tour to be the top player. Brad Gilbert tells the story of an agent who asked Gilbert to call his client, an ATP tour player, about the possibility of Gilbert coaching him. During the phone conversation the player told Gilbert that he didn’t want to be number one, he was comfortable where he was. Gilbert decided not to coach him.

Most every other player would tell you that they’re out there to get the number one ranking. They don’t say to themselves, “I’m comfortable being the forty-third ranked player,” because that kind of thinking wouldn’t be enough to push you through endless practices and traveling and the likelihood that most tournaments will end with a loss. But underlying that goal is a battle with the many parts of your personality tearing you this way and that and generally distracting you from a one-pointed focus on winning. A bad temper, deep insecurity, an overbearing parent. The distractions can take many forms.

Not everyone is on the tour to be the top player.

Look at Marat Safin. His biggest battle is finding a calm enough place within himself to get through a tennis match without a major temper tantrum. His backhand doesn’t need any help, his state of mind does.

Amelie Mauresmo’s biggest battle is finding that part of herself that wants to smash her opponent to bits when the championship is on the line. It may not exist and she may end her career never having won a slam. But she has battled her demons and overcome her insecurities so successfully that only one or two women on the planet can play tennis at a higher level.

The stated goal may be the number one ranking but the result is often the state of mind you reach from working towards that goal.

In the golden age of Australian tennis, players like Rod Laver, Ken Rosewall, Roy Emerson and Lew Hoad (the list goes on and on) prized fraternalism and good manners. Tennis was a way to build character. In his book, Jimmy Connors Save My Life, Joel Drucker tells a story about Australian player John Newcombe. After losing a grand slam final to Jimmy Connors, Newcombe was partying in his hotel suite with his Australian buddies when they decided that Newcombe should go to Jimmy Connors room and congratulate him on his victory. Connors was alone in his room with his mother. Newcombe thought that was rather sad.

Would you be happier losing a slam title yet still be able celebrate getting to the final and have friends to celebrate with, or win the title but do so by isolating yourself so much that you’re left with only your mother, who loves you no matter what, to toast your victory.

Winning a grand slam doesn’t necessarily make you a happy, well-adjusted person. That comes from being comfortable with yourself, choosing goals that are close to your heart and doing everything possible to reach them. Maybe this is the better measure of a successful career.