David Shaftel

It’s as obvious as the moon in the night sky: Neil Armstrong’s pitch-perfect ode to “a small step for man” and a “giant leap for mankind” is on the short list of the greatest American quotes ever uttered. The brilliance in his poetic brevity will live forever, but he’s not the only astronaut to deliver a profound message from the heavens. For sheer out-of-this-world oddness, a new celestial laureate must be recognized: Dr. Sally K. Ride, America’s First Lady of Space. Gazing back at the home planet from the Challenger space shuttle, she points out the Himalayas and the coral reefs off Australia, notes how the stellar perspective has given her a deeper understanding of how fragile existence is, and then adds a beautiful note, equal parts Neil and Louis Armstrong. 

You can look at Earth’s horizon, see this really thin royal blue line, and realize it’s Earth’s atmosphere. And that’s all there is of it. It’s about as thick as the fuzz on a tennis ball.

Given the monumental circumstances, it’s wild that Ride’s thoughts went to an expression that is not only not a cliché, but one that turns up exactly zero Google search returns. To come up with a “Fuzzy Dunlop” during that singular moment of awe shows how central tennis was to her life. It’s one of a handful of captivating throughlines thoroughly explored and dissected in Sally, a new documentary from filmmaker Cristina Costantini streaming on Disney and Hulu.

The heart and soul of Sally is Ride’s partner of 27 years, Tam O’Shaughnessy. They first met at a middle-school tennis tournament, reconnected around the time of the 1983 Cape Canaveral launch, and went on to cofound Sally Ride Science, a program of STEM education designed primarily for girls based out of UC San Diego. Sally is a queer love letter, but it doesn’t hold back on everything Ride sacrificed for her NASA career, including public acknowledgment of their relationship. It only came to light when O’Shaughnessy wrote Ride’s obituary following her 2012 death from pancreatic cancer. The push and pull of being a trailblazing public astronaut and a closeted private individual was never resolved and nearly did the couple in. As O’Shaughnessy says in the film, “It hurt me, but I’m not sure it hurt Sally. She didn’t care about such things.” 

Be assured, though, neither Dr. Ride the person nor Sally the documentary is a downer for long. There are too many moments of sheer joy on the courts, in NASA trainings, orbiting the planet, and in tender moments between Sally and Tam—my personal favorite being the time they got all horned up and frisky looking at fungi under a laboratory microscope, culminating in O’Shaughnessy’s posthumous acceptance of Dr. Ride’s Presidential Medal of Freedom from Barack Obama, as the first woman to accept the award on behalf of her same-sex partner. 

O’Shaughnessy, an award-winning children’s science author and educator, spoke to The Second Serve about her brief professional Virginia Slims career, her and Sally’s friendship with Billie Jean King, Ride’s bravery in the wake of the space shuttle tragedies, and the sun-kissed beauty of her young romantic tennis rival. 

Let’s start with tennis. How did you get into the game, and how did your professional career go?

I grew up in Southern California in the ’60s, which was a golden era of tennis, with so many of the great players—men and women—playing and practicing at the Los Angeles Tennis Club and other area tournaments. I started at 10 and got to see up close what championship tennis looks like. I fell hard for the game, began playing rinky-dink junior tournaments, and just got better and better, which was the same for Sally. We first met as young girls on a boiling-hot day in a tennis tournament line. She was a highly skilled, fierce player. 

At 13, I played in a doubles match with Billie Jean King, and she became my coach and our lifelong friend. I was nationally ranked as an amateur and decided to try the pros, which happened to coincide with this incredibly neat new thing, the Virginia Slims circuit. It was really hard making the jump. You think you’re a hotshot, and then everyone is so talented and athletic. I didn’t have a great career, but I was there, and I competed. 

Any match or tournament that sticks out in your mind? 

In 1972, I played both singles and doubles at Wimbledon. I lost early in both, so I’m not sure that counts as memorable. To get into Wimbledon, I had to go through a qualifier at the Roehampton Club in London, which had the worst grass courts on earth. It felt like running through a rolling series of moguls. I had to win three matches in three days, which was a crazy experience, but it got me in the main draw. I was so honored to set foot on the Wimbledon courts.

Looking back, what did you get out of your tennis years?

The thing about tennis and sports—or endeavors like music, art, dance, whatever—is it teaches you things you might not even necessarily be aware of. By zeroing in on tennis, I learned discipline, which was applicable to pursuits throughout my life. I also came to understand how important and generous good coaches are. As a kid, I was so lucky to learn from Billie Jean and Dr. Walter Johnson, who coached Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe. He also founded the American Tennis Association’s junior development program back when the USTA wouldn’t allow Black kids to play. I played in a few ATA tournaments, which were so much fun. Dr. Johnson didn’t care where you came from, what your background was; all he wanted was tennis to be for everyone. The ATA was an impressive organization. Dr. Johnson was ahead of his time.

In Sally, you say the women on the Virginia Slims circuit were open-minded, and who you were dating or sleeping with was irrelevant. Given how early on in the gay rights movement it was, how important was that experience to you as a young woman?

Well, quite frankly, there weren’t that many queer women on the circuit—most players were straight. But because we had this common thing of tennis, which we were all trying to master against one another, it gave us a unified sense of purpose in many ways. We were also always together, practicing, traveling, going out to eat, etc. Nobody had an entourage or unlimited spending money, so we were a tight-knit bunch. In the early days, people got along, not that there weren’t fights and jealousies and all sorts of things.

Like, say, a Margaret Court?

Yes, every once in a while there was a Margaret Court type, but it was the exception. When I realized I was attracted to women, I felt like I didn’t have anything to really worry about on the circuit. It was a nice way to develop a sense of self as a young person.

In the documentary, Billie Jean King says that after she was outed in 1981, Ride saw the backlash, media storm, and loss of endorsements she faced and understandably decided to keep her true self locked away to not jeopardize her NASA standing. Do you think Sally would’ve done anything differently if she had had an experience similar to yours?

Sally grew up in a family that loved and encouraged her but never talked about personal things, ever. Being private was part of Sally’s nature; it didn’t really have to do with being an astronaut. I’m sure if she had been in the open, welcoming environment I found on the circuit, it would have helped shape her, but she kept our relationship private throughout, so I don’t know if anything would’ve gone differently. Over the years, there has been so much progress for the LGBTQ community, but Sally still died three years before gay marriage was legalized. The more these things moved forward, the more comfortable she felt. I think Sally would’ve gotten there. And I would have loved marrying her. 

Can you explain how tennis helped Dr. Ride’s journey to space? 

Sally would always say that one reason she was selected into the Astronaut Corps in 1978 was her tennis background. It was unique and set her apart from other applicants. Being so physically coordinated goes along well with being an astronaut. Specifically, her game helped her become talented and proficient in her abilities in operating the space shuttle’s robot arm. Once again, tennis provided future skills unrecognized at the time.

There’s a powerful section in Sally following the 1986 Challenger disaster, but there’s no mention of the 2003 Columbia explosion. I’m curious, was Sally’s reaction different the second time?

When Challenger exploded, Sally was completely crushed and numb, blown away that it happened, even though she was one of a handful of astronauts who truly understood the risks. President Reagan asked her to be on the investigation committee, and she played a pivotal role in the public questioning sessions of NASA leadership.

In the footage, she’s a bulldog.

You can see it in Sally’s face, how angry and upset she is. She held NASA’s feet to the fire. As we would all come to learn, NASA made huge mistakes because they got away from the culture of excellence that built the American space program. Sally believed that after the hearings, NASA solved the problems, going back to double-checking every checklist and having reams of data and evidence for making every decision. She was part of the investigation team after Columbia as well and was disillusioned to realize NASA had let the culture lapse, again. It was like leadership had collectively forgotten what happened to the Challenger. 

Since you touched on it earlier, with all these aspects of the movie and your life currently under siege, how are you coping? 

It’s a dangerous, miserable time. A lot of harm is being done across the board in our country, from immigration to science to education to, of course, the basic rights of human beings who are simply different from another type of person. It’s heartbreaking to me. I have to remind myself, American support for gay rights is around 70 percent, and in my lifetime, we’ve become a more socially just society that believes in the individual rights of other people. I think it’s imperative that institutions with a large platform and some level of power—be it universities, corporations, organizations like NASA, professional sports leagues, the Democratic Party, and so on—rise up, speak their truth, and stand against what’s going on. It’s normal, everyday American citizens who are most adversely affected. We need real leadership. It’s a hard thing to do, but it’s the only way forward. 

Personally, I have to take frequent breaks from the news. This is where my love of sports helps. Athletes can be so encouraging, inspiring, and a positive reminder of what’s possible. The French Open has been a welcome respite from all the awfulness.

Let’s end on a happy note: In your mind’s eye, what do you see when I ask you to picture Sally Ride and Tam O’Shaughnessy out on the tennis court?

First off, I picture myself slender and fit again, with brown hair, so I like that. Mainly what I see is a warm, sunny California day out on a hard court, Sally on the other side of the net. She’s wearing some goofy baggy shorts and a white T-shirt. We’re hitting a ball back and forth until Sally starts being silly, rushing to the net and slamming a volley at my feet, just for the fun of it. We’re both laughing. It’s a wonderful scene.