In Jon Wertheim’s latest mailbag, we revisit a few hot topics from Wimbledon, including the Big Three, Elena Rybakina’s celebration and tiebreakers.
This week’s mailbag includes a few post-Wimbledon questions and thoughts. A few reminders:
- ICYMI: Here’s the 50 Thoughts column from Wimbledon
- ICYMI, Part II: Where Are They Now with Steffi Graf
Full disclosure: There were a lot of post-Wimbledon questions around Nick Kyrgios. As long as a domestic violence allegation hangs over him—one that, unlike Zverev’s, is now in the legal system—we might do well to pause discussion of whether he will build upon his Wimbledon triumph, see his box office appeal outstrip his on-court lapses, or if his underarm serves are sportsmanlike.
We move onward, for now.
The GOAT debate continues
Jon,
What does this Wimbledon column do to Novak Djokovic as GOAT? He’s one but behind Nadal but now moves ahead of Federer.
Andy B.
Philly
Kirsty Wigglesworth/Associated Press
Same caveat as always: let’s wait until the polls close—when all three are retired—before making a pronouncement. Sure, there is a “recency” effect to make the case for Djokovic, but, damn, that was one hell of a Wimbledon he turned in—an unflappable, mentally-buttoned-up performance that was truly worthy of a champion. (An aside: what is more underrated, despite the constant chatter about the underratedness: Nadal’s volleys or Djokovic’s serve?)
We come seeking bridges, not walls. Can we at least agree on the following?
- Andy references the Grand Slam titles count (Nadal at 22, Djokovic 21, Federer 20), but there are other factors.
- You know what is definitely determined: the dominance and unstoppable awesomeness of the Big Three. They have won 63 of the past 76 majors and 17 of the past 19 Wimbledons. They are 30-1 at majors this year—and the one defeat was when Nadal beat Djokovic in Paris. It’s a joke.
- Far be it from us to douse passion (read: you’re free to try), but it’s getting hard to make a case for Federer here. He’s now third on the majors list. Djokovic is within one Wimbledon title of tying him at Federer’s best major. And Nadal (now 36) and Djokovic (35) were younger when they broke though and will likely be older when they win their last.
- Let’s avoid a debate about vaccines and science and policy and “sacrifice-for-collective-good” and simply say: it is extraordinary that, amid this run, Djokovic will likely miss half the majors this year for a reason unrelated to physical injury.
Let the celebrations be
Hi Jon!
Am I the only one who appreciated Elena Rybakina’s muted celebration after winning match point? The handshake with Jabeur was similarly understated and professional. It was kind of old school and reminded me of past handshakes by Evert/Navratilova or maybe Graf/Seles. I sort of loved it.
Sincerely,
Trent Miller
Indianapolis
I hate sounding like an old man and always vowed never to be this person, but indulge me with a story. Australian Open, 2001. Andre Agassi defeated Arnaud Clement. Agassi celebrated as emotively as if he was dipping his sushi in soy sauce. I asked him about it and he explained that celebrations are often about the rhythms of the match. The score that day was 6–4, 6–2, 6–2. It’s simply bad form to go nuts after a blowout and your neurochemistry isn’t exactly surging when you’re up two sets and a break. I wonder if part of Rybakina’s muted response was the scoreline.
I also surmised the political awkwardness of it all—a Russian-born athlete who plays for Kazakhstan who still lives in the country with Russian parents who were not allowed entry into the UK—doused any impulse to perform snow angels on the grass. I posted this and was then roasted for ignoring that Rybakina is always subdued when she wins.
Bottom line: different players celebrate in different ways. As Trent—from Indiana, the hotbed of cool—notes, there is a certain act-like-ya-been-there vibe in simply walking to the net. It’s like avoiding an end-zone dance and simply handing the ball to the ref after scoring a touchdown. Different players. Different circumstances. Different positions and dispositions. Good for Elena.
Why the Russian ban backfired
Jon,
So, the All England Club got exactly what they were trying to avoid with their ban of Russian players: Kate Middleton presenting the championship trophy to a Russian player. Yes, Rybakina plays under the flag of Kazakhstan, but she is from Russia and anyone who thinks that Putin won't claim her and promote her as Russian is just naive. Just demonstrates how silly the ban was in the first place.
Lilas Pratt
Marietta
Exactly. Let’s first be clear on Rybakina here: don’t begrudge her the title or her willingness to leave Russia for the Kazakh funding that allowed her to pursue her career. Don’t begrudge her an unwillingness to repudiate Vladimir Putin, especially given that she has family still living in Russia. Don’t begrudge her the right to play Wimbledon in the face of the ban—any immigration court would confirm she doesn’t play under the Russian flag.
But to Lilas’s point—apart from the excruciating awkwardness of it all; her parents were not allowed entry into the UK because they are Russian—it italicized and boldfaced the silly performativeness of the entire ban. The majority of the world is appalled by Russia and Putin. The world knows how he propagandizes Russian success, especially in sports. But this was a wrong-headed, self-defeating form of protest that ultimately backfired.
Questions from the Nadal withdrawal
Susan Mullane/USA TODAY Sports
Jon,
Everyone is disappointed with the withdrawal of Nadal from the semifinal. Tickets are purchased for semifinals prior to when the tournament begins. They lose money and entertainment. There should be a way to balance it out. In the quarter final Taylor Fritz lost to Nadal. With Nadal’s withdrawal, Fritz should be given a chance to compete in the semifinal. In any such big tournaments, the loser should be given an opportunity to compete, if a player withdraws. Any thoughts?
Andy
It’s frustrating. It’s a real challenge for individual sports. But you can’t let a defeated player back into the draw to pursue a trophy. It just can’t happen. It’s just too fraught. It’s unfair, weird and potentially exploited. It’s a real drawback to an individual sport. Mo Salah or Sue Bird or Steph Curry might be hurt; but their games won't get canceled. But I don’t see an alternative.
“I feel like a broken record” is not only a cliché but an anachronism. I feel like Spotify when it buffers here. But why aren’t we devoting more time to discussing the root cause —i.e., athlete health? Is it normal for this many players to be hurt, even as careers extend? Apart from the absences and withdrawals (Federer, Naomi Osaka, Nadal, Stan Wawrinka, Alexander Zverev, Dominic Thiem, Sofia Kenin), it’s remarkable how often injuries dominate press conferences. (“What’s the prognosis? What’s the treatment? How many weeks?”) For all the time spent talking about coaching and roadmaps and wild cards, why not more discussion/resources devoted to working conditions?
Jon,
Why no lucky loser in the Nadal 2022 Wimbledon withdrawal?
@vtext
Again, a lot of questions about this. Note that even a lucky loser goes from one draw (qualifiers) to another (main draw). It’s not like the player loses and then resumes playing in lieu of the opponent who just beat them.
Jon,
What's your reaction to Rafa summoning Lorenzo Sonego? I feel that you are a bit biased to Federer and then Nadal, given your clearly articulated antipathy towards Novak in the past. But even so, I think Rafa was in the wrong calling Sonego to the net and distracting him like that. Sonego feels it had a negative impact on his game for the rest of the match and I sympathize with him. If the shoe had been on the other foot and had it been Novak who did that to Sonego, I think the fan and media furor would have been ten times worse.
Charles
I have no antipathy toward Djokovic. I don’t think he’s distinguished himself with COVID-related behavior. That’s all. As for your question, I agree that was not Nadal’s finest moment. (To his credit, he quickly conceded as much.) You don’t show up an opponent like that, especially on Centre Court and especially about an offense you yourself could be accused of committing. But, again, Nadal apologized profusely and admitted being in the wrong, smothering any controversy.
Who wants to play until … 10?!
Hi Jon,
Now that we all agree—and we do, don’t we?—that the 10 point tiebreaker is a much better way to decide things, more closely resembling as it does, the actual ebb and flow of a match (rather than the “one or two mistakes and you’re probably out of it” nature of the 7 pointer), why not play the 10 pointer at the end of any potentially deciding set? In other words, if either player has 2 sets (so at 2–0, 2–1, or 2–2), the 10 pointer is played. At 1 set to love, or 1–1 would be the only time the 7 pointer is played (and I don’t mind if we ditch it there too.) I realize there’s no chance of this, since I’m the only guy talking about it…haha…but what do you think?
Gavin
That you are the only person talking about it only reinforces the point. Lord knows the chattering class—and I don’t exempt myself—would be complaining otherwise. The 10-point decisive tiebreak is a winner. It’s distinguished from a regular best-to-12. It’s miles better than playing it out (insert the Isner—Anderson/Mahut reference here). The uniformed adoption of this format is a win. (Tennis unity, baby! Catch it!) And the lack of objection spoke volumes.
Taylor Fritz continues to struggle
Jon,
Taylor Fritz is now 0–2 in best of five grand slam matches when his opponent has an abdominal tear. That's rough.
Duane Wright
Yes. Duane is referring to Fritz’s loss against Djokovic at the 2021 Australia Open. To Fritz’s credit, he has, in so many words, said, “This is on me.” There is no shame in taking Nadal to five sets (in your Centre Court debut, no less.) But Fritz knows that match was there for the taking.
Not-so-perfect attendance
Jon,
To me, there were some very obvious past champions who weren't at the celebration. Were they not invited, or perhaps they were invited but were unable to attend... or... just chose not to show up?
To me notably absent: THE Martina (health?), Pete, Serena Steffi, Andre (would have been fun to see them walk in together; and he's always a crowd favorite), Boris (legal battles...), Jimmy (John's very close friend), Virginia Wade, Lindsay Davenport.
On the other hand, it was great to see all those that did make the effort to show! I was especially glad to see Stefan Edberg, one of my favorites. Imagine if Jana Novotna were still alive...what emotion! And a shout out to Ivan Lendl. I know he didn't win it all. But if anyone epitomizes the old traditional British 'stiff upper lip' and 'try, try, try' it was Ivan. It is obvious that centre court was important to him. Wimbledon sure messed things up when they chose to exclude the Russians and Belarusians...Would have liked to have seen how Medvedev would have done.
Bret
I’m surprised—though maybe shouldn’t be—about how much chatter there was around the attendance here. Martina had COVID. Lindsay was broadcasting in Los Angeles. Boris, as you note, was indisposed for entirely different reasons. I heard Serena was in the script the morning of the ceremony. Then she wasn’t. And days later, this story surfaced.
Realistically, attendance was never going to be perfect. You’re talking about an event a half world away for some invitees. In the middle of summer. On the Fourth of July weekend. Some players (Federer, Djokovic, Billie Jean King, Chris Evert and Martina) are perfectly comfortable in public. Others (starting with Graf and Sampras) are not. Overall, a lovely ceremony. Great group photo. We all make choices.
A few follow-ups
Jon,
Did you ever do tips for going to Wimbledon as you did for the US Open? Did a Google search and could not find. Going for my (delayed) 50th birthday celebration.
@Alicedwards
Thanks. I’m sending myself a calendar reminder to do this for Roland Garros and Wimbledon.
Hey Jon,
Hoping you can pass along a suggestion to the tennis powers that be. Have you ever noticed that all of the official Slam apps DEFAULT to the men’s singles draw? Isn’t this just a bit sexist? Slams could demonstrate their commitment to gender equality by setting the app default to be women’s singles (or no specific draw at all). I’m not an app developer, but this doesn’t seem so hard, does it?
Andrew S.
Consider it passed.
Jon,
Regarding your question whether Wimbledon has lost its relevance, does it factor into the equation that this has been the most boring Wimbledon I can remember? Honestly I preferred the 2020 edition (yes, I know).
P.
That might be a stretch. But yes, this will not go down as a banner Wimbledon—for a variety of reasons. And that’s fine. Look, some events are better than others. One of the worst majors I ever covered was the 2016 French Open. One of the best was the same event in 2017. And, so it goes.
Jon,
Your last piece on Kyrgios stated "This isn't someone who is the villain of tennis. This is someone who, in many ways, is quite likable and he is doing it like no one else. There is enough good to offset the bad." You, and many others, tweeted about his assault charge. Is he still "quite likable" with "enough good to offset the bad?" People were rightly critical of Zverev even as an investigation was pending. Do not give Kyrgios a free pass because he does a between the legs shot and makes the audience giggle in his next match. This is a serious allegation and one that is ultimately revealing of a person's character. I respect innocent until proven guilty but maybe Tsitsipas' post match comments about Nick are more relevant than ever.
Rohit Sudarshan,
Washington, DC
Fair enough. I dislike a lot of what Kyrgios says and does. (Another reader—I’m sure this was for public consumption, so I paraphrase—wrote he has a child with autism and got off the Kyrgios train because of the player’s penchant for using the R-word.) But I also dislike the idea of cancellation, as it implies permanence. I hate the idea that people are irredeemable. I have seen instances of Kyrgios’s better angels. More importantly, I defer to people like Andy Murray and Osaka. (Osaka—a champion of mental health and anti-bullying and social justice—“signed Kyrgios as her first client.” At some point, maybe she weighs in?)
The domestic violence allegation, though, takes this out of the tennis realm. Any discussions of code violations and underarm serves and tanking ring hollow now.
A few drop shots
- RIP, Peter Burwash: “On July 7, Peter Burwash, a legend in the tennis industry, passed away in his hometown of Carmel, California. Peter, originally from Canada, leaves behind his wife, Lynn, and his daughters, Kimberley and Skyler. Peter Burwash was one of the most iconic and influential managers and coaches the tennis industry has ever had the pleasure to learn from and collaborate with.
“After retiring from professional tennis in 1975, he founded Peter Burwash International (PBI), an international tennis management company. PBI was the first of its kind in the racquet sports industry, and for decades remained the largest tennis management company in the world. With PBI, Peter introduced new standards to the teaching industry and introduced a new generation of tennis coaches to the game. Peter encouraged professionals to model the highest professionalism and customer service and urged them to inspire and improve the lives of everyone they touch on a court. PBI professionals have taught more than 4 million players in 134 countries, and as early pioneers of the game, PBI introduced tennis for the first time to over a dozen countries.”
- •“Calabasas Films + Media and Sterling Road Films are partnering to produce the first official documentary film on tennis legend, Vijay Amritraj, considered the greatest Indian and Asian player of all time. Directed by Oscar®-nominated filmmaker Sami Khan (St. Louis Superman, The Last Out), the feature film is being executive produced by Calabasas Films + Media partners Kapil Mahendra and Paul Beahan, alongside Prakash Amritraj and Dhaval Desai.”
Take us out
From Lubna Qureishi:
If I had a dream job it would be sportscaster. A sportscaster dedicated to Rafael Nadal, that is. That’s how much I love him. But it didn’t start out like that.
I never played much tennis as a kid, growing up in the ‘80s, a few lessons here and there. I would sometimes watch Wimbledon and catch John McEnroe erupting at the chair umpire. But I rediscovered the game in 2001. Commentators like Chris Evert and Jim Courier and technological advancements like Hawkeye and the calculation of serve speed and topspin really helped me appreciate the game and its players.
And soon I made another discovery: Roger Federer. I saw him upset world number one Pete Sampras in a Wimbledon fourth round match in 2001, and in 2003 he won his first Wimbledon title. But then he kept on winning, tournament after tournament. Who could resist Federer, defeating (the word beating doesn’t fit his style) every opponent with swan-like grace, not a hair out of place, not a bead of sweat? That suave invincibility! And his post-match interviews—in multiple languages—so gracious. I hadn’t become aware that the majors were all played on different surfaces.
One day on TV I happened to see Federer playing in the French Open final in June 2008. How fun, I thought, I’ll just sit down and watch the elegant Federer win in straight sets again. Only it wasn’t looking like that. Whatever groundstroke or backhand slice Federer offered, a blistering reply would inevitably come back, neutralizing the shots and turning offense into defense (come on, am I not sounding like a sportscaster?). Nadal dominated the world number one. Who was this guy who could actually ruffle the feathers of The Swan? Who was this intense, smoldering Spaniard, wearing long shorts and no sleeves?
I didn’t like how this opponent seemed to be pushing Federer to his limit. My suave, swan-like Swiss actually broke a sweat, losing in straight sets. Who was this guy disrupting the tennis world order? Rafael Nadal. Don’t worry, I told myself, that was clay. Clay is clay. And grass is Federer’s. And my anticipation for Wimbledon began. Of course, I felt this tournament would be a breeze for The Swan. He had never lost a Wimbledon final thus far. I kept track of his matches during that fortnight (love that word) and it was beginning to look like Federer and Nadal could meet in the final. This didn’t worry me at all. The press was abuzz, however, talking about Nadal and whether his clay court prowess would translate onto grass that year.
“Could this be the year you beat Roger Federer at Wimbledon?” a reporter asked Nadal one day at a press conference mid-tournament. They had played each other in the final in 2006 and 2007. I remember his response was something like this: “I don’t know if I can beat him here, I have never won here and he’s won six times—no, five—I sure hope he doesn’t win a sixth,” he said with a smile. His answer charmed the room. His smile caught me off guard.
The day of the men’s final arrived. After all the hype, everyone was anticipating a marathon of a match. I woke up at six a.m. to watch it. Would it be the suave, swan-like Swiss, or the smoldering Spaniard (who, I noted, actually looked kind of great in white)? I went to another corner of the house so I wouldn’t wake up my sleeping family members with my passionate cheers. However, there was one uncomfortable feeling that was new, that had been simmering—the feeling that I didn’t actually know whom I would be cheering for! What was going on with me? I wondered. Nadal took the first set. I couldn’t believe it. And then the second. The Swan was two sets down in a final! My four-year-old son came into the room.
“Mom, Federer’s losing,” he said, brow furrowed with confused astonishment.
“I know,” I said with a tense breath, and I realized to my shock, that I was fine with it.
With Federer being behind. More than fine. By this time the rest of my family joined me in front of the TV. When The Swan took the third set and was mounting his comeback, I knew for sure where I stood. I began cheering for Rafa (I could now call him that). Loudly. “You got this! Come on! Do it!” Under my breath I wished The Swan would double fault. As they watched my transformation in real time, as if it were its own sporting event, my family looked at me in disbelief. You might even say in horror. “Mom, what happened to you? You liked Federer so much,” my son asked. Rafael Nadal.
That’s what happened. The match continued. Federer and Nadal tried to outsmart each other by adjusting their games, outdo each other during long rallies, and outlast each other as dusk fell. There were deuces, agonizing tiebreaks, match points lost, not to mention interventions from nature. I rooted for Rafa till the very end, when he closed it out amid the gasps of the awestruck crowd, beating Federer in a five set Wimbledon thriller. It was beyond victory; Nadal managed to dethrone Federer in his house. Everyone was shocked; the new champion himself looked stunned, almost apologetic, as he held the trophy among the flashes of cameras. My own marathon of emotions left me exhausted and my voice hoarse, as I bore witness to greatness unseating greatness.
Nadal played fiercely and fearlessly, but that match wasn’t the exact moment when my loyalty changed. It truly began when I heard him at the press conference. English is not Nadal’s first language but that didn’t matter because humility needs no translation. And to this day his whole vibe is what makes me a fan: his game, athleticism, humor, humility, humanity, positive attitude, and yeah, he can do elegant things too—have you seen him in a suit? I became a wild, true, unabashed Nadal fan, following his every tournament, cheering loud enough to wake up the household as I watched the Australian Open at three a.m., and taking a red eye from San Francisco to attend the 2019 US Open final. My 80-year-old parents even watch him play; in fact, my mom supports my intense admiration:
“I have something for you,” she said, handing me a full-page New York Times ad of a glistening Nadal in Tommy Hilfiger underwear (briefs not boxers; I believe it is a significant detail).
When I need a boost, I google his name for the latest story. His wins intoxicate me with glee. His losses gut me. My friends think of me when he wins (a great association), even congratulate me. I have nothing to do with his victories, though I wish I knew him personally. I was devastated that he had to withdraw from Wimbledon 2022, his hopes for a calendar slam dashed. But I’ll always have Wimbledon 2008. They call it the best tennis match in history; I agree. I also call it the match that heralded my new allegiance.
From that day on it was Vamos, Rafa! And always will be.