The Life Story of Borislava Perić Ranković: ‘If I could ask the golden fish for one wish, it would be to stand on my feet, even if just for 24 hours’

At the age of 22, a moment of carelessness changed her life. Since then, she has been in a wheelchair, but that hasn't stopped her from winning more than 30 medals at European, World, and Paralympic competitions, becoming the best table tennis player in the world. The crown of her career is the gold she won at the Olympic Games in Rio. She also won two silver medals in Paris, one in London and Beijing, and a bronze in Tokyo. Her most cherished medal is when she became the European champion and learned she was pregnant. Since then, she dedicates every medal to her daughter, Dragana.

Growing Up

Memories of my childhood take me back to Bečej, where I grew up and lived until my mid-thirties. My first sporting steps were made in football. Until the fifth grade, I played it regularly with boys. Even today, I am forced to train with men, and at those times, I give 150% of my effort. I am also closely tied to Čurug. I spent weekends and holidays there. The Perić family originates from Čurug. I know you'll ask me if I'm related to Patriarch Porfirije. We're all family there, and we love and respect each other very much. When you spend a lot of time somewhere, people start to identify with you. That's how everything is tied to Čurug, the people of Čurug, and surnames. Čurug is proud of both Porfirije and me

The Village

As a city child, I discovered the beauty of nature and a different way of life there. I learned that one can live off the land. My grandfather used to say: "You can sell land only once, and once you sell it, it's hard to get it back." We usually arrived on Friday afternoons, and my grandmother would scold me for going to the barn first to pet the cow and horse before entering the house. I loved that contact with animals, something today's children lack. There's nothing healthier than freshly milked, strained, warm, unpasteurized milk!

Work

Even during primary school, I would spend summer holidays working at my mum's company to earn money for my own desires. Of course, my parents added more - sometimes more than I had earned - but it was important for me to understand the value of my wishes and to learn how hard it is to earn a dinar that you spend the next day. My dad's aunt worked in a bank in Čurug, and that image attracted me. I liked how she did her job behind the counter, how kind and helpful she was to people. I envisioned myself doing a similar job when I grew up. At that time, I didn't yet know that office work would be too static for me.

Obstacles

I grew up in a small community, which meant many things were not easily accessible to me. Children from working-class families cannot easily secure a spot on the first team or make it to higher leagues in sports competitions. Nothing has changed: the children of directors always have privileges, regardless of whether they have talent or not. I trained in basketball, and when I started secondary school, I was supposed to join the first team. However, that would have pushed out the daughter of some official, so it was simpler to halt my sporting career. The basketball club I played for could have helped me enroll in an economics program, but even then, I followed the motto: I like to earn my victories on my own. In secondary school, I read five to six books a week, primarily out of a desire for knowledge, but also as a retreat to a safe island. I read every day and have maintained that habit – I never go on a trip without a book.

School

I was never the top student, but I learned how to study with understanding. I already had a good foundation, so I didn't need much time for studying – except for Marxism. We were all adjusting to the new curriculum, new subjects, new society. We searched for and found ourselves, thinking about what the future held for us. We wondered why we were studying art and music and whether we would ever need them. Today, I am grateful for everything I learned. There is no such thing as unnecessary knowledge, and language knowledge is priceless.

Hungarian Language

At school, we studied Hungarian, for which I wasn't particularly interested until the fifth or sixth grade. I remember it was winter, and I was returning from a scout meeting when an old lady stopped me on the street. She started explaining something to me in Hungarian, and I didn't understand a word. It took me fifteen minutes to realise she was asking for help crossing the slippery street. That motivated me to start seriously studying Hungarian at school the next day. Like many secondary school students today, I didn’t always understand the importance of general education. But then life threw various situations at me where everything I had learned proved necessary.

The Rule of the Nineties

We were young, eager to truly experience what life was, it was our time – the early nineties. Years of crisis, wartime conditions, and poverty. I vividly remember going out during the crisis: we had just enough money for one tea and one billiard token! We worked hard to be the best at the billiard table because the unspoken rule was - as long as you keep winning, you stay at the table! How many games will you play – one or ten? It depends on how well you perform. That still follows me today: the more matches I win, the longer I play, the longer I stay at the table!

What I Wanted...

After secondary school, I tried to enrol in a higher computer science school but wasn't prepared for the entrance exam. Maybe that school would have indeed placed me in a bank, in a clerical position. Since I didn’t immediately enrol in that school, I got a job, which lasted for about a year and a half to two years. During that time, I saved money for further education and prepared for the mathematics entrance exam.

Scouting

Since I quit sports in the first year of secondary school, I devoted myself intensively to scouting. At eighteen, I became the leader of younger scouts, taking them to competitions. That period was marked by weekend trips. We would pack our backpacks, sleeping bags, and tent canvases and head off on two-day hikes through Fruška Gora. Whenever I had the chance, I spent time in nature. When I enrolled in a higher school, I quit my job and moved to Novi Sad.

Warehouse

However, continuing my education did not go as smoothly as I had thought, so I decided to get a job again in order not to burden my parents. I repeated a year, but I wasn’t disappointed. As long as you try something in life, it can be successful or less successful, but never a failure simply because you tried! Failure is when you do something for others. I found a summer job with my mum's colleague, who had just opened a carpentry business. I was employed in warehouse record-keeping, but soon ended up in the workshop because office work didn’t suit my nature. I became familiar with the carpentry trade, realising that I wanted the work I do in life to be visible. I was the only woman in that company, but that was never an issue for anyone.

The Injury

When I was younger, I didn’t think about the consequences. What could happen if I jumped from a tree? When you don’t think, things take an unwanted turn. It was a moment of carelessness when I thought I was stronger than everything. Things went wrong... but I kept my wits about me. If that work injury hadn’t happened and I hadn’t acquired a disability, I probably wouldn’t have achieved as much as I have. I wasn’t as persistent before as I am now: even when I see something isn’t working, I don’t give up until I’ve done it the way I envisioned! Since spending time outdoors and physical activity were always on my list of priorities, this greatly contributed to my spinal injury not being tragic in my case. As long as we keep our bodies in shape, they can do things we would never expect.

Look to Tomorrow

My parents came to see me just before the surgery that would fix my spine. They said to me: “We won’t think about why this happened, but rather what we can do tomorrow. Smile, and we’ll get through this.” That attitude was crucial! In our house, jokes and laughter could be heard at all times, regardless of the state I found myself in at the age of just under 22. We got through it all. When you think the whole world is yours and then something like this happens, it’s important to clear things up with yourself. Whether you do that overnight or during the day, in company or alone – it doesn’t matter, as long as you figure out what you want now, in the face of these new changes. I wasn’t even aware that the damage to my spine was such that I might never stand on my feet without assistance. At one point, I walked with crutches, but my priorities changed with table tennis and the successes that followed. I accepted the wheelchair as a means to go out into the world.

Stubbornness

The short period of rehabilitation I spent in Melenci was problematic. It was wartime, the year 1994, and I was surrounded by so many wounded people that the doctors had no real vision and couldn’t dedicate themselves to each of us. The time I spent in Melenci was a period of stubbornness for me. When the doctor said something, I would think: You won’t be right, I will! Stubbornness became the motivational force that pushed me to try harder than usual and overcome every challenge more quickly. In rehabilitation centres, the main concern is how to dress a disabled person or transfer them from bed to a wheelchair, something I did on my own. I didn’t want to depend on anyone. I spent six months in Melenci, and then we pulled some strings, and I ended up in the Rehabilitation Centre in Novi Sad. Since then, Novi Sad has been an increasingly present part of my life. After fifteen months of rehabilitation, I returned to Bečej. I went back to work at the same company, initially in an office role but soon again in production. As long as I lived in Bečej, before I fully dedicated myself to sport, I remained in that workshop. The support from my colleagues meant the world to me during that period of re-socialisation. There were four steps in front of my house, and my colleagues would carry me over them every day, leaving the key in the mailbox.

I Was Visible

I returned to a normal life and made an effort to stay active: I would wheel myself to the centre of Bečej, spend time at the iodine spa, visit my aunt who worked in a department store, and regularly go to the library, calling ahead for them to bring the books down for me. I was mobile and visible. No one said anything out loud, but you could read some comments in the looks I received: What is she doing out on the street? Whenever I caught such a look, it only spurred me on to go out even more. I proved that I could do far more than anyone could have imagined. I found strength in positive defiance, and from that battle with my surroundings, I emerged victorious. The satisfaction I felt when I realised those looks couldn’t hurt me, that I was above all that, was a huge personal victory.

Self-confidence

Two sentences were crucial in building my resilience. The first was from a therapist who, three months after my disability, came to our house at my parents’ invitation. She said to them, “If you want to help her, you mustn’t be sentimental.” In other words: Today, you can pass her a plate, but what about tomorrow when you’re not there? It’s better for her to try herself while you’re still here. The second sentence was pivotal for me to re-enter society. My friend, who is now my maid of honour, suggested we go out. “Oh, I’m not sure about going out in a wheelchair. I haven’t been seen for three months, people will be shocked,” I said. She replied, “If I can go out with you, why can’t you go out with me?” I passed through the door she opened for me with that question and never went back through it. I accepted my new condition, accepted myself, and the possibility of socialising with other people. When I first got into a car with hand controls, my second fight for even greater independence began: I wanted to go wherever I wanted, without needing an escort.

First Time Alone

Before my first solo drive, I told my dad I needed a hammer under the seat. He said, “Alright, we’ll find one.” When I came back from the drive, he was waiting for me in the yard: “I get everything, except the hammer.” “Well, Dad, how do you change a tyre?” I asked. “How do you loosen the nut?” “With my foot!” “And how am I supposed to do that?” “You’re right, you do need a hammer!” I always had the support of my family and relatives. Many friends stuck by me – from that positive energy, I got everything I needed to become who I am today. I have friends who are as crazy as I am, so everything is accessible to me. People often forget I have a disability. When they don’t see me in the wheelchair, but in an armchair, they forget that I need the wheelchair. I’ve had people over at my house, and suddenly someone says, “Let’s go!” And I have to say, “Wait, bring my wheelchair, then we can go.” “Oh yeah, you need the wheelchair!”

The Path to the Top

In Melenci, I met a friend who told me about the Paraplegics and Quadriplegics Association in Novi Sad, about the activities, gatherings, and social events... Then my mum asked, “Why don’t you join?” “Alright, if you insist,” I reluctantly agreed. After becoming disabled, I just wanted to return to a normal life. I didn’t see myself in any association; I saw myself in the world. When I look back on it all: I can do anything! Maybe I can’t get to the fifth floor without a lift, but that fifth floor can come down to me on the ground floor. It was difficult for me when, at the age of just 23, the doctor at the medical commission told me to retire. It was humiliating at that age! I was somewhat angry at everything and tried to prove to everyone that people with disabilities can live and work.

It Will Be Sport

Soon, I started going to the association and trying out various sports. I participated in national and provincial games, at events where paraplegic and quadriplegic athletes compete in multiple disciplines: four athletics events, shooting, and darts; men also compete in chess. Those performances marked the beginning of my sporting story. We first competed in Obrenovac, where I went to fill the team because there weren’t enough women. I won three first places and one third place. A very good attempt to see where I stood!

Basketball

There was no doubt I would take up sport, and I chose basketball because I had trained in it before. I remember that at my first practice, I couldn’t hit the basket until I stood on the free throw line. “You can’t shoot from there!” they told me, but the ball went straight in. I realised that I didn’t need to approach the basket but to shoot from a distance. However, there was no future for me in basketball, as I was the only woman playing at that time.

Table Tennis

When Novi Sad was set to host the National Games for Paraplegics and Quadriplegics, I picked up a racket and started training in table tennis once a week so that we could perform at our best. The result? Both teams, the men's with Zlatko Kesler at the helm and the women's, won first place. That’s when I started thinking about dedicating myself seriously to table tennis. Shortly after that, a tournament was held in Belgrade, where I came first. Many had been training longer than me: I barely knew how to hold the racket, yet I was winning! Since there weren’t enough women for a team to compete in tournaments, Zlatko Kesler asked if I’d like to train – and I accepted.

Pick up the Racket

At first, I combined table tennis with basketball, but some members of the basketball team couldn’t let go of their egos enough to accept a woman in their sporting world. Miroslav Homa supported me on the basketball court, and training sessions were very different when he wasn’t there. “Pick up the racket and move to the table tennis hall,” I told myself, and I left the basketball court. After eight months, or at most a year of training, I asked Zlatko Kesler a direct question: “How long will it take for me to be at the top of the rankings?” He replied, “Ah, it’s not as easy as you think!” That answer made me determined to be better than I could have been if he hadn’t said that. It sparked my stubbornness, although he claims he doesn’t remember it.

First Medal

It’s not always about the biggest medal; some competitions are decisive for making changes on a subconscious level. Nada Matić and I won our first team medal in Slovenia in 2004. The following year, I was signed up for the European Championship, but I was left without a partner because Nada got pregnant, and the other girls weren’t developed enough to go with me. I went to my first major competition with Zlatko Kesler and Ilija Đurašinović, as the youngest member of the team. Everyone looked after me like I was the most precious thing, teaching me not only sporting finesse but also other things, like how to eat seafood or how to ride in a gondola.

Anything is Possible

Everything I experienced there was crucial in changing and expanding my understanding. That year, for the first time since becoming disabled, I swam in the sea. The judges carried me in their arms. When you speak kindly to people, everything is possible. At the same time, I realised that I would help others see solutions because I know that solutions always exist before problems. I was highly motivated and positive.

A Moment to Live For

At that European Championship, Ilija and Zlatko received their gold medals, our flag was raised, and the anthem, still "Hej Slaveni" at the time, began to play. That is a moment to live for; a moment you want to repeat. Two years later, I had the honour of experiencing it myself. At one point, I made a sudden leap forward and started playing in semifinals and reaching finals. Since I started playing sports, it had been my dream to represent my country at the Paralympic Games. It was a dream! When I won gold at the European Championship, they asked me to describe how it felt. I said, "I don’t know!" because it wasn’t the gold medal itself, but rather a visa for Beijing, a ticket to the Paralympics! Some medals aren’t really medals. But it’s always priceless to stand on the podium and hear your national anthem.

Retirement and Paris

In every sport, including mine, you need to know when it’s time to retire. Everyone thought my decision came out of the blue, but that’s not the case. I had been thinking about it for a long time, but what sealed the deal was Nada’s decision to stop playing. She thought her career had ended with last year’s European Championship, but by playing doubles with me, she earned a ticket to Paris. After that, she said that first, she needed to “send me into retirement,” and after 20 seconds, she’d follow. So together, we said, “That’s enough from the two of us.” Of course, we wanted to say goodbye in the right way, and we did. A silver medal in doubles is a very nice way to say farewell. The medal in singles is a different story. I didn’t think I had a chance at it; after all, my opponents are much younger than me – some were just born when I started playing table tennis (21 years ago). I think I gave my all to retire properly, but I also didn’t want to leave the playing field easily – they had to work hard to take me off the throne, and only one managed it: a German player.

Husband

I met my husband at a table tennis tournament in Belgrade. He was there accompanying a friend who is also disabled. Before we met, I didn’t see myself in the roles of wife and mother. Sport was the priority, and everything else – if there was time. However, from casual outings, we eventually ended up starting a family, largely thanks to his patience.

Pregnancy

In 2009, I was at the European Championship in Genoa and won a gold medal in singles. Since I had been taking some supplements, I remember asking our fitness coach, who also had medical training, how much they might affect my menstrual cycle. “Could they delay my period?” She said, “They shouldn’t, but a stressful situation might.” “I’ll check when I get back from the competition…” I had a feeling I was pregnant. That feeling of thinking you’ve won two golds in two days is priceless!

Dragana

I had a very easy pregnancy, thanks largely to my doctor’s attitude. When I found out I was pregnant, I asked him, “What do I do now, how should I behave? After all, I’m a pregnant woman with a disability. Does that change anything?” The doctor said, “That’s good; it shows your body is healthy.” “Alright, but my situation is still different... Can I travel now? Sunbathe? Swim?” “You can do everything. You’re not ill. So act like it.” I behaved as usual: I sparred until my sixth month, travelled to training camps… We knew I was expecting a girl, but we didn’t tell anyone. My father first said, “I’d like it to be a boy… No, we already have two boys. A little girl!” My husband left the choice of name to me, and I decided on Dragana. We were happy to have her, and at the same time, the name reflects everything we experienced while waiting for her, keeping memories of some lost friends... I gave birth via planned caesarean section under general anaesthesia. Dragana was my father’s birthday present, born a day before his birthday. The two of them have a great time together!

Back to Training

Five months after giving birth, I returned to training, and a month later, the three of us went to my first tournament. From the first moment, my daughter was with me in the hall! After she was born, some situations weren’t easy because I had to rely on others, which I wasn’t used to. I was used to independence. There were psychological crises when I couldn’t be as independent as I wanted, but I always had the support of my husband, his mother, and my parents. What removed all my doubts were the words of a midwife who had known me since childhood. She said, “You can do everything other mothers can. The only question is whether you want to or not. You’ll get through anything you think is troubling you.” My daughter’s joy gives me the strength for all my plans. There are many things I wouldn’t have succeeded in if I hadn’t promised her I would.

Medal for My Daughter

Before I left for London, Dragana, who was then three years old, asked me, “What do you want mummy to bring you?” She didn’t ask for a toy; she said, “A medal!” I was losing in the semifinals 2:1. As easily as I lost the third set, I won the fourth, because I told myself: You made a promise! For the first time in your life, you won’t keep it… That gave me extra strength to reach the final, where a medal was guaranteed. Every time I go to a competition, Dragana expresses a wish, but she does it very modestly, which gives me even more motivation for great achievements. I reached the Olympic pinnacle thanks to her, because I try to achieve something that other mothers can’t, knowing that they can do things I can’t. I compensate.

I Am Her Mother

Dragana is proud that I’m her mum. Others see me on television, approach me on the street, but to her, I’m mum every second and every fraction of a second. With her, some qualities emerge in me that I never even knew existed. She helps me engage with her naturally. She understands that I can’t always be with her everywhere and that I don’t have as much time as she would like, but there is always time that I dedicate exclusively to her. If she wants me to climb a chandelier, it doesn’t mean I’ll actually do it, but I’ll at least consider the option. I believe a child should be left to fight for their own place under the sky. A parent is support, not someone who should do everything for the child. When Dragana goes to training, swimming, or skating, I insist that her dad takes her so that the coaches don’t form opinions about her based on my influence. If we serve everything to children on a silver platter, we risk raising bullies and criminals who are used to taking things rather than creating value.

Be Careful What You Say to Children

For me, the lack of information was the main issue when I became disabled. When I first became disabled, I overheard a little girl asking her mother, “Why is that lady in a wheelchair?” Without thinking, the mother answered, “Because she didn’t listen to her mum.” From that moment on, the little girl would ask every time she misbehaved, “Mum, will I end up in a wheelchair?” We need to be careful about what we say to children!

It Wasn’t Difficult

I can’t point to something and say: That was difficult! Every moment in life can be given weight, but when you look back tomorrow at what happened yesterday, everything changes. Today, your tyre blows out on the motorway, and it feels like a disaster, but by tomorrow, you might laugh at it! It’s all relative. When we read in Rio that I was going to play against the Chinese player Zhou Ying, it was a tough moment – a make-or-break situation! The next morning, I said, “Well, you can’t get out of your own skin.” Right before the match, I didn’t feel any nervousness in my stomach, no anxiety: it would either be very good or very bad. There was no middle ground! After the match, I laughed at everything I had gone through because I won 3-0, and she was left wondering what hit her! Was that a tough moment, considering the outcome? There are no tough moments in life. Unless you want to explain to everyone how hard everything that happens to you is, then it really will be hard. In anything, a person is their own greatest obstacle.

Gratitude

Building a home is a success. In many ways, I try to say thank you to all those who have supported me in my sporting achievements. Sometimes it’s a dinner in gratitude, prepared with love, in a family setting. Some things in life can be paid for with money, but the most important things are priceless. I’d love to travel around Europe with my family, as it’s my daughter’s wish to visit all the places where I competed.

For One Day

I’d love to stand on my feet once more, even if just for twenty-four hours. It’s partially doable: if I had more time, I’d go to rehabilitation, wear splints, walk on parallel bars... But mostly, that’s a wish for a golden fish! In reality, I live a more fulfilled life than I would have if I hadn’t become disabled. Before, I wasn’t as persistent, determined, or stubborn. Now, things will be done my way or not at all.

Remember…

Think carefully about your next step, because you might land on solid ground or fall into a hole that’s hard to get out of. When you look far ahead, you trip over the most ordinary things. When you focus on the ordinary things, you reach the top!