Dominic Thiem grabbed tennis headlines back in 2020 with a gritty US Open victory that broke the Big Three’s hold on majors. The Austrian beat Alexander Zverev in a five-set epic, claiming his only Grand Slam at age 27. That run capped a career peak where he hit world number three and racked up 17 ATP titles, mostly on clay.
Fast forward to late 2024, and Thiem called time on his pro days. Persistent wrist problems zapped his power and confidence, turning matches into struggles.
Fans watched him grind through lower-tier events, but the spark from his prime never returned. His final match came at the Vienna Open, a straight-sets loss to Luciano Darderi that left him reflective yet relieved.
Peak Glory Crumbles Fast
Thiem owned clay like few others. He reached four French Open finals, all against Rafael Nadal’s unbeatable form, and snagged an Indian Wells Masters 1000 by toppling Roger Federer.
Vienna 2019 added a home title, fueling dreams of more big wins. Then came the 2020 New York triumph in a pandemic bubble, a feel-good story amid empty stands.
Disaster struck months later. A torn ligament in his right wrist forced an 18-month hiatus starting in June 2021. Thiem returned in 2022 with protected ranking spots, but pain flared constantly.
Dominic Thiem (Credit: BBC)
He called himself a shell of the 2020 player, who wins rarely against top foes. By 2024, his record sat at 2-17 in ATP main draws, with rehab cycles endless.
Mental strain built quietly. Thiem admitted the body failed what his drive still pushed for. In a May 2024 video, he shared the dual hits: wrist not healing right and an inner gut feeling to move on. Vienna stayed his dream farewell spot, aligning with the event’s 50th year.
Farewell Fight and Fresh Start
October 2024 brought closure. Thiem announced his retirement weeks ahead, letting him soak in goodbyes. The Vienna opener stung, 7-6, 6-2, to Darderi, but tributes poured in from peers like Denis Shapovalov, who praised his cool vibe. Thiem fought tears, saying it hurt but felt correct.
Post-career plans clicked into place early. He launched Thiem’s Energie Academy to nurture juniors, hoping one kid scales the top ranks. Speaking gigs highlight life lessons from tennis’ roller coaster, from globe-trotting intensity to handling slumps. No panic about intensity dips; tour life prepped him for ups and downs.
Off court, balance grows. Partner Lili-Paul Roncalli offers stability after past splits with tennis schedules. Thiem eyes business ventures and environmental pushes, aiming to inspire sports uptake and positive change. Recent Australian Open 2026 sightings show him courtside, comfy in observer mode.
Tennis shifts gears without his backhand whip. New stars like Jannik Sinner rise, but Thiem’s fair play and raw power echo. His story warns of injury costs in a packed calendar, his voice still relevant in ATP debates. Catch him mentoring kids or dropping wisdom; the court’s loss is life’s gain.
Marilyn Monroe lit up screens as the ultimate blonde icon, blending sex appeal with vulnerability that hooked generations.
By summer 1962, at age 36, her career teetered with firings from films and pill dependency. Found dead in her Brentwood bedroom clutching a phone receiver, she left a void that fuels fascination six decades later.
Final Hours Unravel Chaos
That Saturday started off ordinary enough for Monroe. She spent the day at home, chatting with her housekeeper Eunice Murray and psychiatrist Ralph Greenson about sleep troubles.
Around 7 p.m., her doctor, Hyman Engelberg prescribed fresh barbiturates after she complained of anxiety, on top of chloral hydrate from earlier. Friends noted her mood swings had worsened since losing her latest movie gig.
By midnight, Murray heard odd noises but saw nothing alarming. At 3 a.m., light leaked under Monroe’s locked door; no answer came when she knocked.
Peering through a window, Murray spotted her nude under a sheet, unresponsive. Greenson rushed over, smashed the window to enter, and confirmed she had passed. Engelberg arrived soon after to declare the time of death around 3:50 a.m.; cops were notified by 4:25.
The autopsy painted a grim picture. High levels of Nembutal and chloral hydrate flooded her system, enough to stop breathing without obvious stomach residue, pointing to hours of absorption.
Coroner Theodore Curphey labelled it probable suicide, citing her history of overdoses and emotional lows from failed marriages to Joe DiMaggio and Arthur Miller.
Conspiracy Buzz Never Fades
Official word closed the book quickly, but whispers exploded. Monroe’s alleged flings with John F. Kennedy and brother Robert sparked wild tales of silencing.
Marilyn Monroe (Credit: BBC)
Some claimed phone records showed RFK at her place that night, wiping diaries or injecting pills to hush affair details tied to mob links. No hard proof surfaced; the autopsy found no needle marks or bruises suggesting a struggle.
Her circle fed doubts. Murray later admitted sloppy timelines in statements, while Greenson pushed therapy over meds.
Studio pressures hounded Monroe after her “Happy Birthday” serenade to JFK a year prior, blacklisting her from roles. She divorced Miller in 1961, and infertility grief piled on, doctors noting multiple prior attempts on her life.
The public devoured the mystery. Reporters swarmed her modest home; empty pill bottles splashed across front pages. Fans mourned the girl-next-door trapped in bombshell skin, her $200 million box office haul (billions today) no shield from inner demons. Books and films keep theories alive, from CIA plots to jealous husbands.
Legacy Outlives the Shadows
Monroe’s image endures as pop culture gold. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and Some Like It Hot still draw Netflix crowds; her breathy charm is timeless. Modern biopics like Netflix’s Blonde stir fresh debate, but her real wins shine through: breaking orphan roots to co-found her own studio and fighting typecasting for dramatic roles.
Experts weigh her struggles against era norms. Women stars faced brutal scrutiny, pills handed out like candy for “nerves.” Monroe sought real help, recording therapy tapes on self-worth that later surfaced. Her death nudged Hollywood toward better mental health talks, though progress crawled.
Today, she symbolizes lost glamour and the unchecked fame costs. Statues pop up, auctions fetch millions for dresses, yet the bedroom scene haunts.
Picture her last night: phone in hand, maybe calling a lover or lifeline, pills chasing peace that never came. Hollywood moved on fast, but Monroe’s pull proves some stars burn eternally.
