Elena Rybakina Summons the Ghosts

Back in a Major Groove

Back in a Major Groove

In the Australian Open final, Elena Rybakina summoned old ghosts.

In the Australian Open final, Elena Rybakina summoned old ghosts.

By Carole Bouchard
January 31, 2026

A victory that will haunt Aryna Sabalenka. // Getty

A victory that will haunt Aryna Sabalenka. // Getty

It was a blink-and-you-missed-it situation. Blink, and you missed Elina Rybakina crumbling from one set and 4–4 up to one set all and 3–0 down. Then blink, and you missed Aryna Sabalenka collapsing from 3–0 up in that third set to lose a second Australian Open final in a row and so a third Grand Slam final in the last four she played. Blink, and you also missed Stefano Vukov, Rybakina’s coach, who was banned for a year, being celebrated during the trophy ceremony. 

In that remake of the 2023 Australian Open final, Rybakina ended up getting revenge on Sabalenka in a three-setter in which neither player played their best at the same time, resulting in an error-laden performance. Both being in the same lane of “everything you hit, I can hit it harder” kind of tennis, you knew you wouldn’t get a lot of rallies. But in 2023, their final had also shown that “go big or go home tennis” could find its own version of being both entertaining and steady. This time, not so much.

Yet the third set’s drama made up for the up-and-down nature of that final. It was tough to imagine Rybakina adding a second Grand Slam title to her résumé after Wimbledon 2022, when she started to spread unforced errors all over that Rod Laver Arena as Sabalenka seemed to sprint toward a fifth Grand Slam title. The world No.1 was proving how many more options she had built into her game against an opponent whose A game is lethal, as seen in a flawless first set, but left on its own when things go south. But Rybakina showed more guts in the money time, banking on her ability to go for her shots. And it delivered: The backhand down the line started to fire up again, the forehand-to-forehand battle turned in her favor, and that service came clutch at last. Rybakina’s forever-cool face won against Sabalenka’s forever-on-the-edge look. 

Rybakina confirms the feeling of the end of 2025 when she beat Sabalenka already to clinch the WTA Finals title: She’s getting that groove back and has learned consistency since 2022. The new Australian Open champion became the first female player since Naomi Osaka in 2019 to go all the way after beating three top 10 players (Swiatek, Svitolina, Sabalenka). “They’re tough opponents, have great results, and for so long they have been at the top and stable,” Rybakina said. “I’m happy that now I’m getting back to this level, and hopefully I can be stable again throughout the whole season and keep on showing great tennis, good results. It’s a lot of tough matches I had here. Yeah, I’m glad I could manage to take the opportunities I had and win in the end.”

Is she a different player today? No. Has she improved her game in the same vein as Sabalenka? Absolutely not. Is she still the biggest hitter on that tour with an unmatched ability to hit winners from anywhere on the court? Totally. Is she getting closer to perfecting her game style enough to deliver it without a glitch in the biggest events? A resounding yes. With now 38 wins, she owns the most victories on tour since the end of Wimbledon. She can get unplayable, and it’s always mostly going to depend on her, which wasn’t a situation suited to her victim of the day. 

It’s impossible not to think that Sabalenka’s 2025 ghosts came back to haunt her when she was on serve at 3–1 and then 3–3 in that third set. She had done everything right to get her hand on that final, and yet it derailed again. She couldn’t find a first serve (52 percent in that set), then rushed the rest and missed, so that in no time she had lost five games in a row, left aghast as, after Melbourne and Roland-Garros 2025, another Grand Slam final was slipping through her fingers. “It was really aggressive tennis, and in that moment she had nothing to lose, so she stepped in, and she played incredible points,” Sabalenka said. “Maybe I should have tried to be more aggressive on my serve, knowing I had a break and could put pressure on her, but she played incredibly. She made some winners. I made a couple of unforced errors. Of course, I have regrets. When you lead 3–love, and then it felt like in a few seconds it was 3–4…great tennis from her. Maybe not so smart for me. Today I’m a loser, maybe tomorrow I’m a winner, maybe again a loser. Hopefully not.”

Sabalenka has been the best player in the world by far for the past two years, but under the highest pressure in the biggest tournament, there’s this glitch that can land at any time. “I was really upset with myself, because once again, I had opportunities. But I feel like I played great. I was fighting. I did my best, and today she was a better player…. But level-wise and in the decisions I was making and my mentality, I think I made huge improvements and that I’m moving towards the right direction.”

Put in the same pressure cooker, Rybakina and her ice-cold demeanor have now won two majors out of three chances, and that cannot be a coincidence. Back on the wall, she figures out how to summon her A game, and that’s what Sabalenka figured out at the US Open but still can’t do on demand. After taking down both Swiatek and Sabalenka here, on the heels of that great end of 2025, Rybakina’s confidence is going to rise at a very dangerous high for the rest of the field. “I always believed that I could come back to the level I was. I think everyone thought I would never be in the final or even get a trophy again, but it’s all about the work. Of course, when you’re getting after some big wins against the top players, then you start to believe more and get more confident.” Warning received.



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The Happy Slam Is in a Funk

The Happy Slam Is in a Funk

The Happy Slam Is in a Funk

The vibes are a bit off at the Australian Open this year.

The vibes are a bit off at the Australian Open this year.

By Simon Cambers
January 30, 2026

Fans sense a vibe shift at the usually Happy Slam. // Getty

Fans sense a vibe shift at the usually Happy Slam. // Getty

On the eve of this year’s Australian Open, Roger Federer, back at the tournament for the first time in six years to play in an exhibition as part of the opening ceremony, was reminded that he had coined the phrase “Happy Slam” for the first major of the year. That was back in 2007. Almost 20 years on, Federer said he was glad it had stuck and explained why he’d said it.

“It felt like a very normal thing to say because a lot of players, they’re happy to escape the European winter,” he said. “Finally you’re happy to maybe see the other players again [after a break], so it just feels very happy. The weather’s good, people are incredibly excited and pumped up about the Australian Open, we the players can feel that, the vibes are incredibly happy, nobody’s exhausted and tired [except for travel]. It stuck, and I’m happy it’s still the case because I still think the players are super happy to be here.”

As the 2026 edition heads toward its finale, the Happy Slam vibe remains relatively intact, although some of the gloss, it seems, has been rubbed off. While the increase in prize money across the board will doubtless have gone down well—total prize money is up to a record AUD $111.5 million ($78 million) from $96 million ($67 million) last year—around the fringes there has been some grumbling.

Not least from some of the players, irritated by what they see as the Big Brother feel of the Australian Open, where cameras are everywhere and privacy is limited. Coco Gauff, angry at her performance in losing to Elina Svitolina in the quarters, thought she was being considerate in not breaking racquets on the court. Instead, she smashed one in the corridor in the player areas, near the locker room. Unbeknown to her, it was immediately clipped up and sent around the world on social media.

“I feel like certain moments…they don’t need to broadcast,” Gauff said. Novak Djokovic, asked about the proliferation of cameras at Melbourne Park, went further. “I’m surprised that we have no cameras while we are taking [a] shower,” he said.

Of course, it’s a two-way street. Broadcasters, who are paying more and more each time for rights to show the tournament, want more bang for their buck, and behind-the-scenes footage fits the bill. Players might not like it, but the ever-increasing broadcast rights boost prize money. It will be interesting to see if there is any row-back on the cameras, but as Djokovic suggested: Don’t hold your breath.

Record crowds have flooded through the gates this year. Up to and including Friday, the main draw alone has seen more than one million people attend. It would have been more had it not been for a couple of days of 40-plus degrees Celsius (104F), when people wisely stayed away.

That’s been fueled by ground passes being on offer at very affordable prices (in week 1 they were around AUD$69 ($48). On the face of it, that’s a good thing, of course. Ordinary working people should be able to afford to come. And the result of that has been a huge buzz around the tournament. However, on several days, it was almost impossible to move around the grounds, so tightly packed was it.

And once on site, the prices were, well, pricey. Not as bad as at the US Open, as we outlined on the eve of the event. But still, fans were not happy at having to fork out AUD$14 ($10) for a small can of Asahi beer. Or up to AUD $25 ($12.70) for a Shake Shack burger. 

Players do love coming to Melbourne, but the cumulative load on their bodies is also taking its toll. There have been six injury retirements to date in the men’s event, plus one walkover, and two retirements and one walkover in the women’s singles. Some, like Jack Draper and Holger Rune, didn’t make it here, and others, like Emma Raducanu, had shorter-than-usual preparation due to injury. It didn’t help that local heroes Nick Kyrgios and Thanasi Kokkinakis withdrew with injuries. Players are supposed to be arriving in rude health, but that’s not always possible.

The heat may also have been a factor in the unusually low number of exciting matches. Until the men’s semifinals, which were both incredible contests, the tournament was low on intrigue, low on shocks. Six of the top eight seeds made the semis in both events for the first time in the Open era, but with the exception of Stan Wawrinka, who even at 40 can still be relied upon to entertain, most matches felt a little flat. Playing in high temperatures is rarely conducive to great tennis.

There’s no question that players (and traveling media) are well-treated here. In addition to prize money, all players in the singles and doubles events (including qualifying) receive a check for AUD$10,000, along with a nice gift bag, to help with their travel and subsistence. Obviously the top players don’t need it, but it’s very useful for the lower-ranked players who come down to try to qualify, especially doubles players.

One thing to note, though, is the future of Craig Tiley. Tournament director since 2006 and CEO of Tennis Australia since 2013, Tiley is regularly thanked by the players for going above and beyond. However, Tiley is heavily rumored to be about to be named as the new CEO of the United States Tennis Association.

The weather may be great (largely) and the facilities second to none, but how Tennis Australia replaces him will go a long way to ensuring whether the Happy Slam remains a thing.



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Iva Jovic: A Calm Contender

A Calm Contender

A Calm Contender

A fourth round loss at the Australian Open doesn’t make Iva Jovic any less of a sensation.

A fourth round loss at the Australian Open doesn’t make Iva Jovic any less of a sensation.

By Owen Lewis
January 27, 2026

Peak Iva Jovic is already fearsome. // Getty

Peak Iva Jovic is already fearsome. // Getty

You have to be a special player for your opponent to praise you wholeheartedly after she has just beaten you 6–3, 6–0. The player in question is 18-year-old Iva Jovic, whose breakout run at the Australian Open ended at the hands of Aryna Sabalenka in the quarterfinals. Jovic didn’t drop a set in her first four matches but came up against a version of Sabalenka hell-bent on destruction. Points ended immediately after Sabalenka struck a forehand the way she wanted to, which was all of them. She threw in a low backhand slice that forced an error from a charging Jovic. A spookily good drop volley drooped over the net for a winner. Jovic did not quit, or grow visibly demoralized, or even, I thought, drop her level dramatically. None of it mattered. 

This was peak Aryna, no doubt about it, the kind of performance that could make someone pull the trigger on the premature, irresponsible prediction that she’ll hold the No. 1 ranking for the whole of 2026, as she did in 2025, in a group text. (Whether someone actually did make this call, I’ll leave to your imagination.) But Sabalenka was telling the truth when she said in her on-court interview that the score is a poor indication of how hard she had to work. She added in press that she couldn’t recall playing better in too many matches. (The list, for me, pretty much begins and ends with the third set of her 2025 Roland-Garros semifinal with Iga Swiatek.) “The second set I felt like I have to step in and put even more pressure on her, because I can see that she’s young, she’s hungry, and I could tell during the match that no matter what’s the score, she’s still going to be there trying and trying to figure her way,” Sabalenka said when I asked her about that spotless second set. “Yeah, that was definitely amazing performance in the second set.” 

Sabalenka had reason to feel she needed to step on the gas after the first set. She came out of the gates sharp, and after taking a 3–0 lead, she looked destined for a bagel in the opener. 

Only Jovic didn’t play along. She saved a break point to hold for 1–3, then two more to hold for 2–4. When she held from deuce to get to 3–5, the match 50 minutes old by that point, it suddenly felt close. Jovic poured on the pressure in the next return game, dragging Sabalenka into a protracted deuce battle that required her to hit multiple aces to prolong it. On her third break point, Jovic hit a second-serve return into the top of the net. Immediately, she doubled over, practically twisting herself into a pretzel in her horror. It was the preternaturally calm teenager’s only demonstrative reaction of the match.

Yet it was her first time at Rod Laver Arena. Jovic had an excuse to totally wilt, particularly in 95-degree temperatures (it’ll be 114 later, whee) under such a pale blue sky I can’t imagine it ever being any other color. Seagull feathers regularly spiraled down from above, as if portending the skin that would later flake off sunburned spectators. Jovic had enough meaningful crowd support, too—more than Sabalenka—to add the pressure of satisfying her fans. Though she gets no credit on the scoreboard for it, Jovic played well enough that Sabalenka saw no option other than to pay her the painful compliment of annihilation. 

This loss doesn’t make Jovic, a Californian born to Serbian and Croatian parents, any less of a sensation. At its outset, if asked which 18-year-old would go furthest in this tournament, all of tennis’ fans and media would have answered as one: “Mirra Andreeva, and I would put a month’s rent on it.” But the Russian phenom is developing a tad slower than her two WTA 1000 titles early last year forecasted, and she lost in straight sets to an imperious Elina Svitolina on Sunday night. In Melbourne, it was Jovic who found the steadier level of tennis, and her equilibrium more easily when under duress.

Jovic came into the tournament as the 27th seed thanks to a 35–13 run since Roland-Garros in 2025. (She’s now 20th in the live rankings.) The maturity of her game belies her age. She is comfortable playing several feet behind the baseline, making her hard to hit through, but doesn’t push. Her forehand is one of the more interesting shots I’ve seen recently. It lacks the power of Sabalenka’s or Elena Rybakina’s but has a ton of weight on it, so the opponent (except Sabalenka, apparently) always seems to be playing catch-up with it, whether they’re trying to run the ball down or merely change direction with it. Jovic is also armed with a tip from Novak Djokovic himself to open up the court with angles as well as depth. She can rip the aerial backhand return with a violent two-handed swing; it’s almost as though she’s flying when she strikes that shot. 

Peak Jovic is already fearsome. Her demolitions of Hon and Putintseva, in particular, were clean and ruthless, artworks typical of the seasoned veteran who has smoothed out all the flaws in their game. Down 6–0, 3–0, and break point to Jovic, Puntintseva fatalistically threw her racquet at an unreachable forehand pass. If Jovic is breaking opponents’ resistance at 18 years old, we may need to allow her opponents a free courtside psychologist when she hits her prime.

Maybe the most alarming attribute Jovic has, though, is that temperament. Before this tournament, she’d never been past the second round of a major. As she has won the matches that have propelled her to the quarterfinals, her reactions have been…happy? Satisfied? A show of emotion, after she beat Jasmine Paolini, lasted approximately a quarter of a second. She has rarely seemed exuberant. She may have exceeded her expectations by making the quarterfinals, but the way she did so has felt routine. “I don’t really feel like there is a lot of house money or underdog mentality that I’m feeling, because I don’t feel like I have been playing anything outside of my comfort zone or outside of my normal level,” Jovic said, after dropping one game to Putintseva. Terrifying stuff. 

Jovic was calm in press after losing to Sabalenka, aware of the fact that this match wouldn’t have defined her career even if she’d won. When asked what she tried to emulate from Djokovic’s game, she identified “the way he is able to almost suffocate opponents.” (Again: terrifying.) She said Sabalenka’s power forced her to operate at an extreme, which she struggled to adjust to given that she’d hoped to “drift a little bit in the middle.”

“There’s always next time,” she added with a smile, “which is nice.”



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Zeynep Sonmez Brings the Ruckus

Home Court Advantage

Home Court Advantage

Zeynep Sonmez brings the ruckus.

Zeynep Sonmez brings the ruckus.

By Giri Nathan
January 23, 2026

Zeynep Sonmez celebrates her second round win at the Australian Ope this week. // Getty

Zeynep Sonmez celebrates her second round win at the Australian Ope this week. // Getty

The crowd is the third participant in every tennis match. It has the power to bend the outcome. My favorite crowds: when an athlete playing far from home syncs up with some huge diasporic pocket of their people. That’s one of the beautiful things about the fact that the US Open is set in Queens, the most diasporic place in the world—every player’s got a cheering section in their native tongue. You can sit down at an outer court and see the Astoria Serbs going head-to-head with the Flushing Chinese, a battle parallel to the one on court.

All the Slams have some version of this, even the one Slam that is not located in a major global metropolis. Melbourne is the capital of the Australian state of Victoria, and as it turns out, Victoria is home to Australia’s largest Turkish population. Immigration surged in the ’70s and ’80s, and according to the 2021 census, there are now more than 47,000 people in Victoria with Turkish ancestry.

Judging by the noise, at least half of those people have been attending the recent matches of Zeynep Sonmez, the 23-year-old from Istanbul who has been trailblazing for a country with limited tennis lineage. A fleet-footed aggressor with flat strokes and a knack for net play, Sonmez became just the second Turkish woman ever to claim a WTA title when she won the 250 in Merida back in 2024. She took another step forward in 2025, when at Wimbledon she became the first Turkish player ever to reach the third round at a Slam, and in October she hit a career high of No. 69 in the world. 

By the time this Australian Open rolled around, her ranking had slid and she was bound for the qualifying rounds. She cruised through all three matches there, and in the first round of the main draw she dispatched the No. 11 seed, the slap-happy Ekatarina Alexandrova. That was just the second time she’d beaten a top 20 player. (Mid-match, Sonmez also rescued a ball girl who was just a few seconds away from fainting in the heat.) After her second-round win over Anna Bondar, Sonmez reflected on the absurd crowd support she has enjoyed in Melbourne. “I’ve never experienced something like this,” she told the press. “At first I felt like I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts. It was very, very loud.” But after refocusing, she said, she was able to draw on their support to get through tight moments in the match.

When I tuned in to her third-round match against Yulia Putintseva, dozens of red flags were flapping in the stands, chants of “Turkiye” were booming, the energy was unbelievable, and then I looked at the score and saw that Sonmez was already down a set and a break. That’s how a truly passionate crowd will behave. Even when the player is that distant from victory, they’re still causing a ruckus. I later learned that Sonmez had just won a spectacular point involving a Putintseva tweener, hence the cheers, but really, they didn’t need a specific reason, the volume was turned all the way up the entire match.

Perhaps the Sonmez faithful did not read the scouting report, however. Their energy might have energized the opponent, too. Putintseva, short-statured and delightfully rude, is not one to be cowed by a partisan crowd. She had just taken down two opponents with massive fan support, and she seemed eager for the opportunity to antagonize yet another diasporic community (Brazilian, French, now Turkish). Sonmez went on to level that second set and win it in a tiebreak. Sonmez, who was spotted last season reading Descartes during a changeover, studied her notebook as Putintseva took the customary momentum-breaker bathroom trip.

Though Sonmez had more power than her opponent, there were moments where her feet seemed asleep—a classic by-product of nerves—and she didn’t have the right spacing to the ball. And while it was a rough day from the baseline, to the tune of 73 unforced errors, Sonmez showcased an almost Alcarazian attitude to the net. She timed her approaches well and volleyed beautifully, winning 29 out of 35 points in the front court. It’s that layer of her game that most impressed me, that sets her apart from most of her contemporaries, and that makes me think that perhaps there’s a top 30 ranking in her future.

Nevertheless, she was broken early in the third, and Putintseva took over. The last few games went fast, and when Putintseva completed the 6–3, 6–7(3), 6–3 victory, she celebrated as only she could. She dropped her racquet, put her hand up to her ear, blew fat kisses, and did a little dance as the crowd showered her with boos. A crazy juxtaposition with Sonmez, who was waving her teary, heartfelt goodbye and signing flags, after achieving this career milestone, her second appearance in the third round of a Slam. Eventually the booing switched over to soccer-style cheers of “Zeynep,” and the atmosphere improved drastically. If Sonmez continues on the present trajectory, they’ll have plenty more opportunities to go wild in Melbourne in the years to come.

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Ethan Quinn's Card Gets Pulled

Rainbow Roll Roulette

Rainbow Roll Roulette

Ethan Quinn Gets His Card Pulled.

Ethan Quinn Gets His Card Pulled.

By Ben Rothenberg
January 21, 2026

Ethan Quinn's wallet is a tad lighter. // Getty

Ethan Quinn's wallet is a tad lighter. // Getty

On the eve of the 2026 Australian Open, after the luck of the draw and before the luck of the netcords, 10 of the top American men’s tennis players had a risk-ready appetite, hungry to let fickle fingers determine their fate once more. 

They were full otherwise, having just put down their chopsticks at Nobu in Melbourne’s Southbank neighborhood after a Saturday night dinner. One of them, though, was about to get a bitter dessert: They put 10 credit cards in the middle of the table for what’s become an annual game of credit card roulette.

 When the unlucky card was pulled, many around the table flinched: It belonged to 21-year-old Ethan Quinn, who only broke into the top 200 at the start of last season. Though he’s made his way up to 80th in the rankings, he’s spent less time at these high-rolling affairs than any of the rest.

“I was trying to pay for it, to be honest,” Ben Shelton, who has made more than $11 million in prize money alone, told me of when he saw who had lost. “But tradition is tradition, I guess.”

Taylor Fritz, 19th all-time on the ATP’s prize money leaderboard with more than $29 million, felt similarly. “I felt really bad that he lost—with everyone at that table,” Fritz said of Quinn, who is 726th on that all-time list.

Fritz, who recently slipped behind Shelton but has been the highest-ranked American man for most of this decade, has taken on the role of organizing the dinner—“which sucks,” he said of that responsibility—to keep an annual ritual going. 

“I’ve tried to kind of branch it out and invite all the guys,” Fritz said. “I don’t have every American guy’s number, and there’s new guys that come up. So I put six or seven of the guys in the group chat—and everyone is invited; I’m getting the big table. Whoever can come, comes.”

When first held around 2018, the dinner was at Chin Chin, a delicious and pretentious Thai restaurant on Flinders Lane. Fritz shifted the venue to Nobu, where he’s mostly kept the tradition going each year. Last year Fritz admitted he “slacked” and didn’t organize it; two years ago the group agreed to split the bill between two players, only for it to land on two of the lowest-earning: 57th-ranked J.J. Wolf and 101st-ranked Aleks Kovacevic.

I felt awful there, too,” Fritz said.

Quinn told me he was braced for a rough number as he glanced at the bill for the 10-person party at Nobu. The receipt was more than a foot long, including two steaks, seven miso-marinated black cod, 40 wagyu tacos, dozens of pieces of sushi and various other sides. But when Quinn saw the amount—and then converted it into U.S. dollars, which are only about 67 cents on each Australian dollar—he was relieved.

“I was expecting worse: It was $2,500 U.S.,” Quinn told me. “Not as bad as I was expecting. I was expecting 8 grand, to be perfectly honest with you…. No one drank, so that’s kind of what helped.”

What may have especially helped, Quinn said, was a possible 11th dinner guest who was absent: Frances Tiafoe, who skipped out on the annual occasion because he was scheduled to play his first-round match on the opening Sunday and is taking things more seriously lately.

Quinn thanked Tiafoe when he saw him at the tournament. 

“I was just like, ‘Dude, if you were there, that bill is going to be three times what it was’—and he thought that was funny,” Quinn said.

 Quinn savors having a seat at the table—and getting to make fun of guys who are still well above him in the rankings and earnings. When he sees Tiafoe around this Australian Open, it means making fun of his infamously enormous personal water tankard.

“I feel like I’m pretty comfortable now with a lot of the Americans, and I asked him this week: ‘Oh, did you check your water bottle? Put it business class on the way over here?’ And everyone was laughing. It was fun having that dinner [too], having that full American squad out there. We’re all really close, and it’s just a good time being together with each other.”

 Quinn’s loss was bad news, the group knew, for someone else: 23rd-seeded Tallon Griekspoor, who was Quinn’s first opponent. Quinn, who had lost to Griekspoor twice last year, smoked the Dutchman like Gouda: 6–2, 6–3, 6–2.

“Once I stepped foot on court I didn’t think about it at all,” Quinn said of paying back his debt. “I probably would’ve if I lost and walked off the court like, ‘Damn, now I lost and am out $2,500 from a dinner.’”

The first-round win upped Quinn’s prize money for the event by around $50,000, putting him about $47,500 in the black on the trip. 

Tiafoe said he had felt “not at all” bad for Quinn for losing—“You’re making money out here, you will be all right”—but enjoyed seeing him win. 

Hence why he got Griekspoor out of the way: He needed to recoup that,” Tiafoe said. “So that’s good.”

Fritz agreed with that assessment. 

“He had some extra motivation to win the match today, so that was good,” Fritz said. 

Fritz knew how it felt, having lost credit card roulettes twice at the start of his time on tour.

“People need to understand: I took two Ls very early on in my career, too—back-to-back years,” Fritz said. “It all comes around. I told Ethan, ‘Keep coming back every year. You’ll get some free dinners, too.’”

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Taylor Fritz Sees the Game Differently

Bigger, Stronger, Faster

Bigger, Stronger, Faster

Taylor Fritz sees the game differently.

Taylor Fritz sees the game differently.

By Giri Nathan
January 16, 2026

Taylor Fritz at the Japan Open, 2025. // David Bartholow

Taylor Fritz at the Japan Open, 2025.  // David Bartholow

It’s the central question of the ATP season: Can any player end the Sincaraz dominance at the Slams? I don’t expect to see it happen, and if it is coming, I can’t see it happening at the Australian Open. But I do think there are a handful of players capable of playing some interesting matches along the way. One such player is Taylor Fritz, who enters as the No. 9 seed in the draw and took Alcaraz to an extremely competitive four-setter at Wimbledon last year. (He also beat Carlitos at Laver Cup, for whatever that’s worth.) On Thursday, the 28-year-old spoke to me over the phone for roughly the duration of a changeover, and since he’s one of the best commentators on the nuts and bolts of tennis, I asked him a few questions that were on my mind.

It’s hard to believe, but you’ve been a pro for a decade now. So looking at the tour in general, what have been the big technical and tactical shifts in the ATP from 2016 to 2026? What feels most different? What do you find yourself thinking about or talking about your coach with that you weren’t thinking back then?

I mean, a lot. I think I see the game a lot differently now than I did back then. I think a lot of that is just, you know, the understanding of having played for so long. I think about a lot of stuff nowadays that I didn’t think about back then, and that’s really standard stuff, like how the balls are affecting how you play, how the court speeds are different. I wasn’t thinking about that as much when I was 18, 19 years old; I would just show up and just play. And I’ve become so much more—like I just notice all those little variables and changes so much more now.

But if we’re talking specifics, really, about the game of tennis, one thing I talk about a lot nowadays is I think people’s second serves have changed so much from when I started playing. I think people used to just kick in their second serve all the time when I was younger. And I think people have gotten so much better at taking that kick serve early on the backhand, even people that have bad backhands. I feel like I’ve gotten pretty good at being able to take that return early and attack it. And I think nowadays, if people don’t, if you’re not playing someone who has a massive kick serve, most people just kind of slide it into the body and keep it lower. I really think the second serve has changed a lot.

This is a personal theory, as a viewer of tennis. Over the past, you know, 15 years, I feel like the footwork has changed dramatically. And I see a lot of sliding on surfaces beyond clay, and I’m wondering if that resonates with you as well. If so, do you think there were certain players who are influential in bringing that about?

To be honest, I don’t actually know when it started. If we go back quite a while ago, sliding on hard court wasn’t a thing always, and now it is. So I can’t speak to exactly who started it and when it started, but I’d say it’s a huge part of the game nowadays. If you can’t—I think if you’re like 6’5″ or smaller, and you can’t slide on a hard court, I think you’re putting yourself at a massive disadvantage just moving-wise. You’re just so much quicker to be able to recover after that ball when you slide into it; it makes such a massive difference. And you know, I’m extremely jealous of the people that can open-stance slide on their left foot to the backhand. That’s something that I just am not able to do—a lot of players aren’t able to do it, but I’m not able to do it. And it, yeah, it’s something I’m really jealous of.

When you think about where the game is right now, where do you see things going over the next five to 10 years, over the latter half of your career?

I’d say a lot of sports are kind of moving in the direction of: bigger, stronger, faster. I think most of the time, players were more like, you have one thing but don’t have another thing. If you’re really tall, you maybe can hit the ball big and you serve big, but you’re not as fast. And nowadays it’s just like, everyone can do everything. I think there’s more complete players, people that are tall and fast and powerful, and people that are smaller can still pop a serve and crush the ball. And I think that’s kind of just the direction that it’s moving: People can kind of do everything. I think there’s a lot less holes in people’s games.

To touch on the exo [THE MGM SLAM] that you guys are playing in Vegas, when you play a match like this, do you ever think, “Hey, I’m going to use this to work on some specific aspect of my game”? Or are you more just trying to have fun and put on a good show?

No, I mean, I’m definitely just going out there and trying to win. Especially when there’s a prize pool like there is in the Vegas event, I’m 100% going out there and trying to compete, competing and trying really hard. And that’s going to put on a good show in itself, for the crowd, which I’m excited for. And yeah, I’m, I’m there to win. I want to play it like it’s any other event.

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The Price is Tight

The Price is Tight

The Price is Tight

Where its three Slam brethren overcharge, the Australian Open gets it (somewhat) right.

Where its three Slam brethren overcharge, the Australian Open gets it (somewhat) right.

By Simon Cambers
January 15, 2026

You can't beat that Melbourne light. // Getty

You can't beat that Melbourne light. // Getty

Australian Open organizers made big noise last week when they announced that this year’s event will boast record prize money, up 16 percent from last year at a total of AUD $111.5 million ($74.5 million). That puts it second only to the US Open among the majors. Ten years ago, total prize money in Melbourne was AUD $44 million ($29.5 million).

If you have been lucky enough to visit Melbourne Park in recent years, it won’t have escaped your attention that the once poor relation of the four Slams has become a behemoth. Grow any bigger and it will soon be starting at Federation Square, right in the city.

But while the US Open peddles signature cocktails for $23 apiece, with sales of the (admittedly tasty) Honey Deuce drink alone totaling almost $17 million in 2025, the Australian Open retains a certain charm that’s unmatched in Grand Slam circles.

Prices are not cheap here, either—a beer is around AUD $16 ($11), but that’s still decent compared with the US Open, where a domestic beer in 2025 was $15 and Heineken a dollar more. Or at Wimbledon, where a Pimm’s was £12.25 ($17) last summer. But the chances are that when you enter the grounds here, you will be given sun cream and water for free, a big smile, and a tip that, should you need it, there’s a pharmacy on site. Considering that one of the main meeting and resting areas at Melbourne Park is named Heineken Square, perhaps it’s wise. 

There’s no question that the four Slams are now moneymaking machines. Last year’s French Open prize money was 56.35 million euros ($64 million); at Wimbledon, it was £53.5 million ($71.6 million); and at the US Open it was $90 million, with the two singles champions receiving a record $5 million each.

Revenues are immense; in 2024, the United States Tennis Association (USTA) recorded revenue of $623 million, the vast majority coming from the US Open, while Wimbledon brought in a record £406 million ($539 million).

But the four Grand Slam nations also have a remit: to grow the game and make it accessible to everyone. That’s proving more and more difficult every year.

But the point is that Australia gets the balance right. 

A grounds pass ticket (giving general access to the outside courts and some show courts) for any day in the first week in Melbourne costs from just AUD $59 ($39.50), similar to the French Open and Wimbledon, where it is around $40. Great value, no doubt. You can even get a grounds pass for the whole of week 2 from just AUD $99 ($66).

By contrast, the US Open has become almost impossibly expensive. In theory, a grounds pass there costs a similar amount if obtained in advance, but tickets are invariably snapped up in minutes, by bots or organized companies, only to reappear at vastly increased prices.

At Wimbledon, the only tickets that can be resold are “debentures.” They’re the most expensive tickets, almost a financial instrument in themselves, which can be traded on the secondary market. Otherwise, you can try your luck in the ballot or line up in the famous Wimbledon queue, with tickets available every day on the gates. The French Open’s grounds passes are available online, in advance and during the events, while Australia has a rule that says tickets can only be resold at a maximum of 10 percent above face value. In New York, however, tickets can be instantly re-advertised for sale via Ticketmaster and are often several times face value. In 2025, grounds passes were available during week 1 for $300, and people were not happy, as a glance at social media during the event proved. 

Not all grounds passes are the same; at the US Open, a grounds pass gives access to some seats in Arthur Ashe Stadium, while at Wimbledon, in Paris, and in Australia, it does not give a seat on the two main show courts. 

If you do happen to get a ticket, that’s just the start of what can quickly become a bank-account-emptying day out. At the 2025 US Open, their signature Grey Goose honeydew melon cocktail was on sale for $23. An incredible 738,459 of them were sold, bringing in $16.98 million, up 32 percent from the previous year.

Price increases have far outstripped inflation; in 2014, the drinks were just $14. Food prices are also sky-high; a lobster roll, which was $18 in 2010, is now $39.50, a shrimp cocktail is $25, and a beer (Heineken) is $16. Food and drink at Wimbledon are pricey, too, but in Paris you can get a galette or a signature ham baguette for less than 10 euros, while a Leffe beer was also 10 euros (once the 2 euros for the cup had been refunded).

The 2025 US Open was the last for Stacey Allaster as tournament director (former doubles player Eric Butorac takes over). At a gathering hosted by Rolex in the second week of last year’s event, Allaster outlined a host of new, costly improvements that will be carried out at the Billie Jean King Tennis Center over the next couple of years, including some more rows in the lower bowl on Arthur Ashe, which will doubtless command tasty prices.

I asked Allaster whether she or the USTA could do something about resale prices. She seemed to suggest it is beyond her control. I contacted the USTA to see what, if any, percentage they receive from resold tickets in the form of service fees or facilities fees that often appear on Ticketmaster. Though the USTA acknowledged the question, an answer has not been forthcoming.

The U.K. government announced in November that it is to ban the resale of tickets above face value for live events, including sports, although Wimbledon’s debenture tickets may be exempt—in part, it seems, because their sale helps boost the tournament’s profit, 90 percent of which is then handed to the Lawn Tennis Association to grow the sport in the U.K. In 2024, that amounted to almost £50 million.

The Slams might argue that if people are willing to pay those prices, then it’s all good. Revenues go up, players get more money, everyone’s a winner. The numbers from 2025 will no doubt buoy US Open organizers, but if tennis becomes a sport only the rich can afford to watch, then it has a problem. 

But that grounds pass for week 2 in Australia is an outstanding value, including access to numerous other attractions, from music to dance. That $99 ($66) is just enough to get you a Grey Goose and a lobster roll at Flushing Meadows. It can’t be right.



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Wham, Bam, Thank You, Slam

Wham, Bam, Thank You, Slam

Wham, Bam, Thank You, Slam

The Australian Open’s 1-Point exhibition is both ecstasy and agony.

The Australian Open’s 1-Point exhibition is both ecstasy and agony.

By Owen Lewis
January 14, 2026

1-Point Slam runner up, Joanna Garland. // Getty

1-Point Slam runner up, Joanna Garland. // Getty

If anything in the main draw of the 2026 Australian Open beats the 1-Point Slam for drama, it’ll prove a wildly successful tournament. 

The AO has struck gold with its exhibition, evidenced by the jump in prize money from $50,000 to $1 million in just its second year. One point deciding a match—just one point!—presents a very specific kind of gut check that is very different from an official match. Even top professionals might not pass it. Main-draw matches are their own gauntlet of nerves, but players can find solace in repetition. Miss a backhand on one point, and you’ll have a chance to right the wrong on the following point. The 1-Point Slam offers no space for mistakes. So do you take your fate into your own hands, or push the ball down the middle of the court and hope your opponent misses? On Wednesday night, plenty of high-ranked pros picked the latter option. Some of them just plain choked. 

Jannik Sinner, the two-time defending champion of the Australian Open and a player as impervious to emotional vulnerability as I’ve ever seen, lost to amateur Jordan Smith when he hit a serve that fluttered weakly into the net. (Pros in the top 100 are allowed only one serve, while lower-ranked players and amateurs get two.) Carlos Alcaraz landed several forehands onto the baseline in a rally against Maria Sakkari, only to net one of his favorite drop shots. Six-time major champion Iga Swiatek beat top male pros Flavio Cobolli and Frances Tiafoe but sent a forehand way long against 71st-ranked Pedro Martinez.

Rod Laver Arena was not only sold out but truly invested in the points, which is more than quite a few official matches can say, even those with the highest stakes. Twenty-four-year-old, 117th-ranked Joanna Garland was the breakout star of the night—she outmaneuvered Alexander Zverev with a hard backhand down the line, got Nick Kyrgios to miss a return (he smashed his racquet afterward, because of course), and drew a backhand error from Donna Vekic. Even as Garland lost the final to Smith, she couldn’t stop smiling. It was incredible theater. The hosts maintained a steady stream of banter and asked players about their tactics, which was annoying at the best of times. Still, I imagine the 1-Point Slam did more to intrigue casual or previously uninterested tennis watchers than most official matches.

Unfortunately, the event also has some kinks it badly needs to work out. And they’re a bigger deal than the numerous delays between rounds and the first point kicking off 41 minutes after the scheduled start time. As the 1-Point Slam progressed past the early “matches,” with the top seeds falling, it became sickeningly clear that while players to whom the money would be transformative had a real chance of winning, several would have their dreams dashed in the space of a few moments. In those moments, the jokey, game-show-esque aesthetic of the 1-Point Slam proved woefully inadequate. 

Take Martinez, who lost to Smith in the semifinals. Before he sent a tight, tight backhand down the line wide, he probably considered the million his for the taking. He was the only male professional left in the draw at that point. He is 28 years old and ranked 98th in the world, 47 spots below his career high. Though he has made more than $5 million in prize money over the course of his career—singles and doubles combined—that money has been spread out over many years. He has won just one title; the last event he played before the Australian Open was on the Challenger Tour. This would have been the best payday of his life. He had more riding on this one point than he will when he plays his first-round match at the Open or, in all likelihood, in any match he’d ever played before. 

When Martinez missed that backhand, the crowd roared in support of Smith. Martinez’s cry of “NO!” was audible for no more than a split second. But you could see the anguish on his face and in the way he drew his arm back to slam his racquet into the hard court, only to reconsider at the last second. He gamely shook Smith’s hand, and that was the end of his story; he appeared on the broadcast only once more, in a replay of his reaction. I’d screwed up my schedule and had to leave the event half an hour in, but I was glad not to be there for this, because I might have had to run out. A beaming host began interviewing Smith so fast Martinez couldn’t possibly have had time to make himself scarce, or perhaps vomit. I thought briefly that the tournament suddenly had far too much in common with Squid Game. 

Mind you, the money meant a lot to Smith, too. He spoke of buying a house in Sydney, and I’m thrilled that he now can. The juxtaposition with Vekic, who repeatedly plugged her line of diamonds throughout the night, was also deeply unpleasant to watch. Imagine if the money had gone to Vekic instead after that. Imagine if Garland had understandably crashed out after missing a backhand in the final, when she’d spent the earlier rounds hitting so many good ones. Worse, imagine if Alcaraz or Sinner, who’d pocketed $2 million each just this week for an exhibition in South Korea, had beaten Smith in the final. I would like to believe that they’d have let an amateur or lower-ranked pro win, but given that both have taken enormous paydays at the Six Kings exhibition in Saudi Arabia, I’m not sure they’d be able to resist chasing the cash. 

The 1-Point Slam is onto something—more than something. 2008 Bill Simmons is somewhere in a parallel universe arguing that this format should replace the main draw at the majors in a column laden with pornography references. The event manages to amplify the aspirations, nerves, and drama of a tennis match and condense it into a single point. But the game-show vibes in the late rounds need to go as soon as possible. The idea may be novel and unofficial, but the hopes and dreams of the unwealthy taking part are very real. The losers deserve a format that respects their disappointment.



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Coleman Wong Makes History

Hong Kong Has a Plan

Hong Kong Has a Plan

And Coleman Wong is at the vanguard.

And Coleman Wong is at the vanguard.

By Carole Bouchard
January 9, 2025

Coleman Wong of Hong Kong during quarterfinals match against Lorenzo Musetti at the Hong Kong Open. // Getty 

Coleman Wong of Hong Kong during quarterfinals match against Lorenzo Musetti at the Hong Kong Open. // Getty 

Every time he steps on a court, Coleman Wong makes history for Hong Kong. That’s the beauty and the pressure of being the first. At just 21 years old, he’s been the first-ever Hong Kong native to play in the main draw of a Masters 1000 event (in Miami last year, where he defeated Ben Shelton and reached the third round). He then became the first to break into the top 200, and then the first since Paulette Moreno in 1988 to qualify for the main draw of a Grand Slam—the US Open last year, where he was also the first male Hong Konger to reach the third round at a major, in the process reaching his best ranking so far, at 128 in the world.

Wong shows that you can climb the pro tennis ranks even when coming from a place with no clear path. This week at home, he made history again by becoming the first man representing Hong Kong to reach a tour-level quarterfinal in the Open Era, thanks to his win over Gabriel Diallo. “A lot of people watch my matches, kids or adults, and I hope it can motivate them,” he told me. “For someone coming from here, it’s not easy to be an athlete because there aren’t many players in the past who have been able to compete internationally and play against top players. I hope now it will inspire them.” Against Lorenzo Musetti in the quarters, Wong looked able to pull off another upset when he broke for 3–1 in the second set, but then his lack of experience caught up with him.

The Hong Kong Open has been very well attended, with each of Wong’s matches being especially well subscribed. Locals have embraced the city’s efforts to bring the tournament back to Victoria Park, nestled amid the city’s iconic skyline. Nobody has forgotten that from 1973 to 2002, Hong Kong was once an important stop for the world’s best players. In 2024, men’s tennis returned, and then last year, women’s tennis also came down to Victoria Park for an autumn WTA tournament. The message is clear: Hong Kong wants in again.

“Hong Kong has 40 tennis clubs, and on top of that, there are [many] local sport associations,” explained Michael Cheng, president of the Hong Kong China Tennis Federation and tournament director. “There’s a very strong community spirit, league spirit, but traditionally, Hong Kong is a very conservative society where they focus more on academics. There’s not a strong professional sports culture, but that’s changing as people are starting to believe there is a path to shaping the sporting industry in Hong Kong, and also shaping Hong Kong to be a major sporting event hub.”

One can wonder how Coleman Wong found a way. His coach, James Allemby from the Rafael Nadal Academy, where Wong trains, insists on the role luck played and on Wong’s entourage. “He got into tennis by chance, because his parents, who are teachers, wanted him to get in shape. They are not from sports, so they never put pressure on him; they really listened to the coaches. He loves playing tennis and traveling, and doesn’t worry too much about other things. He likes to feel he’s constantly improving, but he doesn’t complicate things too much. He is living his dream out there.” 

Gabriel Diallo, who also played doubles with Wong here, praised his progress. “He’s very explosive. He has a good arm, a good serve, takes the ball early, plays very fast, goes to the net, and moves very well. He competes well, is solid on both sides…. He’s really improving fast.”

Wong could feel overwhelmed by it all, but Allemby doesn’t worry about it. “He knows he can only control his attitude and daily effort, that bad matches still can happen, and that his average level is still not high enough.” Still, facing the reality and responsibility of his fame on home soil was a shock for Wong. “I don’t have many chances to play at home and receive so much support, so getting some wins meant a lot. But it’s not easy to play in front of the home crowd. There’s always pressure, so I’m happy I did pretty well at handling these nerves. This is something I will never forget.” If he had to reach his first ATP quarterfinal, there was no better moment. “I don’t want to do it somewhere else! I keep believing in myself, in the work I’ve put in. I’m at the same level as these players, so it’s all about whether I can believe that I can do it. It’s been very important for my game, but also for my team, to know that I belong here.

For Allemby, Wong’s main strength is his work ethic. “He’s in constant progression, because his daily effort is very high. His patience on court has also improved, and he has more options than a year or two ago, including at the net. We focus a lot on his evolution, on the small steps that need to be taken, and don’t worry too much about the results. He’s humble, always with a smile on his face, which is a great power in a sport like tennis. He loves to learn, doesn’t set limits, and sees the bigger picture. He’ll go back to the gym and add hours on the court after a tough loss. He also realizes that he has a lot of chances to do that, and that it’s a very short career, so he needs to make the most out of it.”

Overall, Wong enjoys being the “first-ever,” but he’d love some company. How could others join? “I’ll tell them to make sure to go out and start playing matches outside of Hong Kong and start exploring, because Hong Kong is such a small place, and you need to go out and start playing against all the different players, maybe in Europe, maybe in the U.S.,” he said. 

The Coleman Wong index is trading at a high in Hong Kong, potentially offering a foot in the door for many. “To get tennis to the right place here, you need a good national participation strategy, so it’s the training pace, then you aspire to having the right event. And here, it’s a tennis garden right in the middle of the town, which is the uniqueness of Hong Kong,” said Michael Cheng. “But to make it even more impactful, having a local hero really helps. And what Coleman does is groundbreaking. He’s really ramping up the tennis in Hong Kong, within the tennis community and beyond.” 

As an echo, Wong has repeated this all week: “Now let’s keep going, let’s keep dreaming.” Then on Thursday he added: “I’m here to stay.” Hong Kong has a plan.



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Zizou Bergs: Drama King

Drama King

Drama King

Team competition brings out the best in Zizou Bergs.

Team competition brings out the best in Zizou Bergs.

By Giri Nathan
January 9, 2026

Zizou Bergs at the United Cup in Sydney this week.  // Getty

Zizou Bergs at the United Cup in Sydney this week.  // Getty

The tennis is back on, it’s as good as we remember, and your friends at The Second Serve find themselves pondering the one topic on every fan’s mind. That’s right: world No. 42 Zizou Bergs.

Ah. Perhaps you are not yet thinking about the plucky 26-year-old who wears a backward hat and was named after the great Zinedine Zidane. Well, now is as good a time as any to start. Bergs spent much of his early career on the Challenger tour—his father used to religiously wake up in the middle of the Belgian night to watch Zizou play and listen to excellent commentator Mike Cation—but he broke into the top 50 late last season. He’s got some game, and moreover, he’s a bit of an entertainer, who has shouted “Where is the party?” to rile up the Roland-Garros crowd, and has often found himself entangled in thrilling matches. That last bit is especially true when he’s representing his country. What is it about Zizou Bergs that reliably produces such absurd drama whenever he’s in a team competition? Whatever it is, it’s happening again this week at the United Cup.

The trend stretches back to February 2025. Davis Cup tie between Belgium and Chile. Zizou Bergs in a tight third set against Cristian Garin. The Belgian dipped a forehand pass to break serve for 6–5, took a celebratory hop-skip, started running, and kept running into the changeover, where, at the net post, he collided with an unsuspecting Garin. Oops. Garin fell to the ground. Bergs apologized for his reckless celebration and was issued a code violation for unsportsmanlike conduct. But Garin was infuriated by this ruling. He wanted the punishment to be more severe. In fact, so committed to this principle was Garin that he refused to start the match again. As a result, he received three consecutive code violations. The first was a warning, the second was a point penalty, and the third was a game penalty—which, unbelievably, ended the match and decided the whole tie in Belgium’s favor. Legendary scene. Garin later said that he was knocked unconscious for three seconds. Though Chile’s own team doctor disputed the unconscious part, he did conclude that the impact to Garin’s eye socket left him in no condition to play on. Chile’s Olympic committee hoped that “this shameful international incident does not go unpunished.” All this because Bergs was a little too happy to have broken serve.

That wasn’t even the craziest thing that happened to Zizou Bergs in Davis Cup last year. That honor goes to a match played nine months later, in the semifinal between Belgium and Italy. For all the flaws of latter-day Davis Cup, sometimes the atmosphere at those matches is just otherworldly, and that was true of the frenzied stadium in Bologna that day. In front of that home crowd, Bergs took on Flavio Cobolli—another player prone to playing epics, another baseline battler with superb movement. The two arrived at a third-set tiebreak. That tiebreak alone lasted 27 minutes. Bergs saved six match points, some in spectacular fashion; Cobolli saved seven. Italian teammate Matteo Berrettini was so nervous that he couldn’t watch at times, cowering under his shirt. Papa Bergs, no longer watching a Challenger live stream from afar, was huffing and puffing in the stands. It is not an exaggeration to say it was one of the best tiebreaks ever played. Cobolli took it 17–15 and tore open his shirt. A little later he would walk over to comfort a crying Bergs.

So when Bergs opened up the 2026 season representing Belgium at the United Cup, he was poised to continue this legacy of great entertainment in team competition. Thus far he has not disappointed. His very first match of the year was a three-set thriller against Zhizhen Zhang. A battle of abundant z’s, and a high-level affair that Bergs ultimately lost, 6–7, 7–6, 7–5. But Belgium continued to advance in the tournament, and he soon rebounded with two straight upsets: one over Felix Auger-Aliassime, and another over Jakub Mensik, both in straight sets. This is new territory for our hero. Before this tournament, Bergs had been 2–16 against top 20 opponents. He has started his season by winning two such matches in a row, and his team is still rolling. What else could the great Bergs accomplish this week, or indeed this season? Our editor Dave Shaftel recently pulled a signed Zizou Bergs in a pack of Topps tennis trading cards, which we can only take as an auspicious sign. May he prosper, win a dozen Slams, and boost its value.

The aforementioned Bergs pull. // Courtesy of David Shaftel

The aforementioned Bergs pull. // Courtesy of David Shaftel



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