The Top 25 Matches of the Century So Far
The Top 25 Matches of the Century So Far
The Top 25 Matches of the Century So Far
Our favorites for performance, lifestyle, and everything in between.
Our favorites for performance, lifestyle, and everything in between.
By The Second Serve
December 26, 2025
Since we’re a quarter of the way through the century, we thought it a good time to take a look back at all the great tennis that has transpired since the turn of the millennium. We’ve asked some of the best tennis writers working today to choose what they thought were the best matches of the past quarter century, and to help us rank them based on some combination of the level of play, the moment, the stage, and the historical implications. The results were often surprising, always fun—we’re sure you won’t find anything controversial herein.
25.
2025 Davis Cup, Cobolli d. Bergs, 6–3, 6–7, 7–6
Davis Cup—in many ways a vestige of the pre–Open Era that never successfully adapted to the commercialization of tennis—has had a rough go in the 21st century so far, losing the reliable participation of top players and other elements of its magic formula. But for one night in November 2025, even the stripped mine bore a gold rush of a match, with 43rd-ranked Zizou Bergs of Belgium and 22nd-ranked Flavio Cobolli each playing their breathless best as the match went beyond any conceivable last gasp.
Yanking momentum back and forth, the pair combined to save a baker’s dozen match points between them before Cobolli bombed a serve up the T that Bergs could not wrangle back into the court on the 14th, the culmination of an epic third-set tiebreak. The crowd in Bologna roared for Cobolli—only the third-best Italian man but the top Italian who showed up for the occasion—and a couple days later he’d win Italy its third straight Davis Cup title.
Bergs, a player initially known more for a coquettish TikTok presence than his tennis, may never get closer to glory than that, but just being part of such a moment also might be enough. “You gave everything, and that is the greatest victory of all,” his father, Koen Bergs, wrote to Zizou later. “No matter the score, you have already won in my eyes. You are a champion of spirit, a warrior of heart, and a son who makes his father endlessly proud.” —Ben Rothenberg
24.
2012 Australian Open, 2nd Round, Tomic d. Dolgopolov, 6–4, 3–6, 6–3, 6–7, 6–3
By the 2010s, men’s tennis had steadily grown more and more monotonously metronomic. Two dudes, planted behind the baseline, lashing topspin ground strokes at each other until one of them blinked. The 2012 Australian Open ended with the farcical peak of this when Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic needed nearly six hours of baseline grinding to finally determine a winner. But a week prior, in that same Rod Laver Arena in Melbourne, two oddballs had shown what was possible. Alexandr Dolgopolov and Bernard Tomic put on as outré an exhibition as men’s tennis has ever seen this century, matching each other’s freak with exchanges of exaggerated slices.
Their creative carving sculpted something beautiful that would never again get such a stage in men’s tennis this century. That this match went five sets was entirely incidental to its greatness; viewers were hooked early in the first set. Forget metronomic—did you ever see those pictures of the sorts of webs spiders weave after being given LSD? That was this match.
Tomic, who was then a genuine hope for his country as a 19-year-old fresh off a Cinderella quarterfinal run at Wimbledon, won to reach the fourth round; he would top out there and never made it to another major quarterfinal in his career. A couple of years later Tomic would play almost certainly the worst match of the century when he lost to Jarkko Nieminen in just 28 minutes. But on that one night, with a continental grip, Tomic brushed up against the truly sublime. —Ben Rothenberg
23.
2019 US Open, 2nd Round, Townsend d. Halep, 2–6, 6–3, 7–6
Taylor Townsend had never beaten a top 10 player, progressed past the second round of the US Open, or taken a set off of former No.1 Simona Halep when she lined up against the reigning Wimbledon champion at Arthur Ashe Stadium in 2019. Then ranked No. 116, Townsend barely scraped through qualifying to earn her spot in the main draw. To earn the biggest win of her career, Townsend engineered the century’s most audacious display of net-rushing tennis, a style that had all but disappeared after the 1990s. “I think it was really great confirmation that this style of play works,” Townsend said afterward, “that I can continue to do it.”
To disrupt Halep’s baseline rhythm and keep the counterpunching Romanian on her heels, Townsend crashed the net an astounding 106 times. Her intentions were laid bare in the opening game, as she held serve off four successful forays into the net. Halep ran off five straight games to take the first set, but Townsend never backed off. She continued to chip and charge and serve and volley to finally take her first set in eight tries against Halep, setting up a dramatic final set. Townsend crashed the net 64 times in the third set, forcing Halep to respond in kind with her own baseline magic.
By the time Halep had saved two match points and Townsend saved one, the only mystery left was the result. The entire stadium, which included Kobe Bryant and Nadia Comaneci, knew what was coming in the final tiebreak: Taylor would rush the net, and Simona would either find the pass or not. It was edge-of-the-seat viewing, and as the old cliché goes, fortune favored the brave. —Courtney Nguyen
22.
2016 Olympics, 1st Round, Del Potro d. Djokovic, 7–6, 7–6
Going into the match, Novak Djokovic was at the height of his powers; the only accolade that had eluded him thus far was an Olympic gold, and thus joining Rafa and Andre as the only men to complete the career “Golden Slam” (though Steffi Graf had done it in a calendar year). He’d leave the Olympic stadium bereft, though. So far Novak had been in uncharacteristically lackluster form at the Olympics, but this year was supposed to be different, with Novak seemingly able to do anything on a tennis court. What we didn’t know at the time was that Novak was at the beginning of his yearlong lost weekend, where he’d miss time due to injury and see his ranking drop to the un-Novakian number of 12 and his love life written about in the tabloids. There was no evidence of any of that in Rio, though.
Juan Martin del Potro, on the other hand, showed up greatly diminished from the heady days of 2009 when he upset Federer in the US Open final. The atmosphere in Rio was electric from the start, practically a home court for the Argentine del Potro, and what ensued was a deeply emotional match that would see both players—and seemingly the whole stadium—in tears. While del Potro’s backhand was barely effective due to the wrist injuries that would end his career early, his forehand was a problem. Novak tried to stay away from it, but when del Potro got a look, he seemed to demolish the ball. He used that shot to pummel most of his 41 clean winners over just two tight sets. That, along with an 86 percent first-serve percentage, was too much for Novak, whose heart was broken again. Novak would get his Golden Slam eight years later in Paris, and del Potro would win silver at the games and eventually lift the trophy two years later in Miami, but Rio was the signature late-career triumph for del Potro, and he knew it. “I wanted to win, but I also wanted the match to go on because everything was wonderful,” he said afterward. It was an unexpectedly epic and moving run for del Potro, who had the Brazilian crowd in the palm of his hand. —David Bartholow
21.
2020 US Open Semifinal, Osaka d. Brady, 7–6, 3–6, 6–3
Many elements of the 2020 US Open, played behind closed doors as the pandemic roiled onward outside, felt understandably depressing. Arthur Ashe Stadium, known for its buzz and roars that reach the rafters, had become an empty cavern whose size only amplified the echoing emptiness.
Though there were fewer than 150 people in attendance in a stadium built for more than 22,000, the women’s semifinals of that tournament turned the void into infinite possibility. Under the roof, Naomi Osaka and Jennifer Brady distilled something that felt lab-perfect in the pristine conditions: pure power tennis in a vacuum.
The two women combined for 19 aces and just three double faults, belting baseline winners on command in a dazzling barrage of reverberating power tennis. No one had shaken off the pandemic dust as quickly as Brady, who had won in a stacked field in Lexington before coming to New York ready to take on the world. She played the match of her life, but Osaka was just better—as she so often proves to be across her absurd 13–1 record in the quarterfinals, semifinals, and finals of majors.
Osaka, who had won the loudest and most chaotic US Open final a couple years earlier, thrived in the opposite extreme and won her third major a couple days later. But the real victory, she said, was making the final: By playing seven matches, Osaka ensured she would get to wear all seven of the masks bearing names of victims of racialized violence that she had made for the tournament, which she said had been “a very big motivating factor” for her.
Osaka won a rematch over Brady a few months later in the final of the 2021 Australian Open. That one didn’t live up to the high-proof potency of this match; it’s hard to imagine the conditions will ever exist again for the recipe they brewed the first time. —Ben Rothenberg
20.
2018 Australian Open, 3rd Round, Halep d. Davis, 4–6, 6–4, 15–13
After twin towers John Isner and Kevin Anderson needed more than six and a half hours to end their deadlocked 2018 Wimbledon semifinals with a 24–22 fifth set, the rules of tennis were rewritten. Soon, no match, anywhere in professional tennis, would be allowed to continue on past 7–6 in the final set. The rule was made to stop mundane marathons between men who can’t return serve, but tennis has never been one-size-fits-all, and a lot of classics were surely prevented in the process.
Thankfully, though, Simona Halep and Lauren Davis had already played one last classic a few months earlier. In a lightweight throwdown for the ages, the generously listed 5-foot-6 Halep and 5-foot-2 Davis tussled back and forth for hours. With neither possessing a serve that could win her many free points, every game was a complete toss-up. Even in the tightest moments, the two stayed attacking throughout, trading winners and breaks as the third-set score pendulated into double digits.
Davis had three match points on return at 10–11 but couldn’t convert, for a good reason: One of her toenails was falling off. Though ranked No. 1, Halep had a lot to prove: She was playing in Melbourne without an apparel sponsor, wearing a red dress she’d ordered from China and an Australian Open-branded visor.
Halep would make it all the way to the finals of that Australian Open, winning another marathon in the semifinals against Angelique Kerber before finally hitting the wall in the final against Caroline Wozniacki. Halep, who had to be hospitalized for dehydration after losing that final, would finally win an elusive first major title a few months later in Paris. But the best match of her year—and the grittiest of her career—was against Davis. —Ben Rothenberg
19.
2015 Wimbledon, 2nd Round, Brown d. Nadal 7–5, 3–6, 6–4, 6–4
What if low-percentage suddenly became high-percentage tennis? For the answer, look no further than Dustin Brown’s epic upset of Rafael Nadal at Wimbledon. Rafa came into the tournament somewhat diminished as a 10 seed after an appendectomy in late 2014, but the match was less about Nadal than Brown, whose brand of tennis was at one point described by commentator Andrew Castle as “hilarious.”
Brown, 30, came into the match ranked 102 in the world, having come through qualifying. Though a prototypical journeyman, Brown was a grass-court specialist and thrilling shotmaker who’d beaten Lleyton Hewitt at the Championships two years prior and had smoked Rafa on the grass of Halle the previous year—and he put on a hell of a show. Rafa lost this match after the very first game, won by Brown in four quick points: a serve + drop shot, a serve + swinging backhand volley winner, a 123 mph second-serve ace, and a drop volley. The ensuing four sets were characterized by more of the same. Every time Rafa held serve, it felt like a dodged bullet, whereas Brown held easily. By the sixth game the broadcast team, who had given Brown so little of a chance they didn’t bother to familiarize themselves with his bio, was wondering if Nadal was washed-up (He wasn’t). On set point in the third, in an attempt to return a Brown serve up the T, Nadal instead hit his own shin with his racquet, sending a bloodcurdling crack throughout Centre Court. Never has Nadal looked so out of sorts.
The match calls to mind the infamous “No Mas” fight, during which the more powerful Roberto Duran was so fatally flummoxed by Ray Leonard’s audacious style, he basically shut down. It’s nearly as notorious. In the recent history of Jamaican sports, there are only the achievements of Jamaican sprinters (Usain Bolt chief among them) and Brown’s takedown of Nadal. Here was a guy whom the elites in the Jamaican tennis establishment didn’t want—he represented Germany at the time but had the full support of the Jamaican street—a former ball boy at a Montego Bay resort, deploying a flashy, risky, and joyous brand of tennis to prevail on his sport’s biggest stage, against one of its most august opponents. —David Shaftel
18.
2006 US Open, 2nd Round, Agassi d. Baghdatis, 6–4, 6–4, 3–6, 5–7, 7–5
Take two of the best pure ball-strikers alive, one at the end of his career and the other at the start. Beat them to such a pulp that they can barely walk, and have them play a fifth set. This is your recipe for an unforgettable tennis match—or at least it was in the second round of the 2006 US Open, where a 36-year-old Andre Agassi met a 21-year-old Marcos Baghdatis. Maybe it was the contrarian in me, but despite Agassi’s legend, I recall rooting for the Cypriot, who had just broken into the top 10 that season. A paunchy shotmaker in board shorts and a headband, he seemed to possess the gift of perfect timing that defined Agassi’s own game. My friends and I liked to imitate the Baghdatis running forehand, badly.
That night, Agassi took the first two sets, then Baghdatis the next two. By the time they arrived in the final frame, pain had emerged as the third character in the match. Baghdatis was hopping around, rolling on the ground in cramp agony. Agassi, pumped full of cortisone injections to grit through his final tournament, saw his naturally stiff pigeon-toed walk get even creakier still. Between points it looked like neither man could walk 10 paces in a straight line. But during the points they hurtled around Ashe in crisp and hypnotic baseline rallies, their contact as clean as their faces were ragged. Agassi notched the last victory of his career; Baghdatis would never again touch the heights of that season. From them I learned how tennis could ravage a body, both over the course of an epic career, and over the course of a single evening. In his memoir Agassi wrote that the two players, flat on their backs and receiving treatment after the match, held hands—happy to have shown the world all that, and to have survived. —Giri Nathan
17.
2019 Indian Wells Final, Andreescu d. Kerber, 6–4, 3–6, 6–4
I remember the rage that propelled Bianca Andreescu to winning that Indian Wells 2019 final against Angelique Kerber, whose lefty paw had already won three majors. Ranked 152 to start 2019, 60 ahead of Indian Wells and 24 after, the 18-year-old became the fourth-youngest player to win a WTA 1000 at the time (Hingis, Seles, S. Williams), the youngest here since Serena (1999), and the first wild card in the event’s history.
I was on-site when she blasted through like a joyful hurricane, and what got her the title against Kerber, who tried everything to escape that kid, was her unique recipe of power and variety, added to an exceptional tennis IQ, a forehand hitting like a whip, and will power as X factor: She’d yell her “Come on!!!” and the ground would shake.
Yet, down a break in the third, Andreescu was about to lose her fairy-tale ending, her right shoulder in pain. But then it happened. She called coach Sylvain Bruneau and sat there repeating how badly she wanted to win, tears in her eyes, with an intensity that went through the stadium like a wildfire. And so Bibi went back and took over, missed three match points at 5–3 but hit a monster forehand at 5–4, 30A. “She’s gonna do it. It’s insane,” was my only thought. A great return later, and she was yelling out of rage and pride on the ground, everybody pinching themselves.
The rest is history: a 10-win streak until retirement in Miami; just two matches played before winning the WTA 1000 in Toronto and the US Open, beating Serena Williams. She was top five, and the world was her oyster when her left knee gave up at the WTA Finals, starting a streak of injury issues. We’re still here, waiting for Bibi, just because we know how unreal her peak is. —Carole Bouchard
16.
2001 Wimbledon Final, Ivanisevic d. Rafter, 6–3, 3–6, 6–3, 2–6, 9–7
Glorious chaos, in tennis form. One of the all-time great Wimbledon finals, even if the quality of the tennis itself was at times, as Pat Rafter admits, “pretty scratchy.” But this was about more than just tennis. Scarred by losing three finals and bruised by a shoulder injury, Goran Ivanisevic was ranked 125 and needed a wild card just to get in the event. Somehow his game came together, his serve began to fire, and the unthinkable became possible. Rafter, a serve and volleyer in the true Aussie tradition, had lost in the final the previous year, but after beating Andre Agassi in the semis, he was the favorite.
The final was pushed back to Monday due to rain, and tickets were sold on the gate for £40, a bargain that created an atmosphere more like a football match, with the Australians in green and gold mingling with Croatians in red and white checks, alongside Jack Nicholson, shades and all.
The match itself was chaos. Twice, Ivanisevic led by a set, but Rafter sped through the fourth to level. The fifth was nip and tuck until Ivanisevic fired a forehand return across Rafter to get the break for 8–7. Ivanisevic was so nervous he could hardly stand up, and that final game, wow. Three double faults, two on match point, and a third match point lost to perhaps the best backhand topspin lob of all time from Rafter before the Aussie returned into the net to finally give Ivanisevic his dream victory. —Simon Cambers
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The Top 25 Matches of the Century So Far — 15 - 6
15.
2021 Wimbledon, 2nd Round, Kerber d. Sorribes Tormo, 7–5, 5–7, 6–4
Angelique Kerber’s the queen of angles and timing, Sara Sorribes Tormo is all topspin and stamina, but they share a rare ability to generate classic matches. Their lack of innate power forces them to win points through colorful, inventive means that rub off on opponents and produce ecstatic slogs. It’s a shame they’ve only played each other this one time, and a tragedy that the only public video record of it is Wimbledon’s pathetic three-minute offering on YouTube.
Good thing I could never forget watching it on TV at the time. I’ve never seen a match with so many wonderful rallies—in three long sets on grass, still bright and fast in the first week, these two mustered only 19 combined unreturned serves. Rallies began on even terms and were free to flow to places that most modern tennis matches are too power-dominated to ever visit. This style can produce slower and more masochistic rallies than some are used to, but I think it captures the best of tennis. Such rallies showcase the broadest possible variety of shots on offense and defense, allowing the sport to shine both athletically and aesthetically, and for more than a moment at a time. SST broke serve early in the third set with a lob she hit while running backwards, at the end of an exchange that had already featured a baseline rally, an overhead, and a volley. I’ll take that over serve-plus-one, please and thank you. The match’s conclusion felt inevitable, as in so many Sorribes Tormo marathons: Her nonexistent serve eventually results in a love break at the worst possible time. Even in defeat, her persistence against a better player made her primarily responsible for the best match of the tournament, and the year. —Owen Lewis
14.
2008 Wimbledon Final, Nadal d. Federer, 6–4, 6–4, 6–7, 6–7, 9–7
The ultimate clash of styles, on the biggest stage, for the greatest prize of them all. Federer was trying to win for a record sixth straight time, while Nadal, the clay-court king, was the upstart looking to cause a big shock and prove that he could play on grass.
The anticipation was off the charts; Federer was unbeatable in his “back garden,” but Nadal had made the final in each of the two previous years, and if the fans didn’t know he was ready, Federer did, having been crushed by the Spaniard just a few weeks beforehand in the French Open final.
The match started late because of rain, and when it did begin, Federer was nervous. Nadal took the first two sets and was the better player early in the third, only for an 80-minute rain delay to turn the momentum in Federer’s favor. After grabbing the third set on the tiebreak, Federer saved two match points in the fourth, one with a brilliant backhand pass down the line, to take it to a decider.
The fifth set was again interrupted by rain, and when they resumed, the light was fading fast and it was almost impossible to see, with only TV making it look playable. Federer had the momentum and was serving first, but Nadal was unstoppable, finally breaking serve in the 15th game before serving it out for the biggest title of his life. Federer looked like a broken man. —Simon Cambers
13.
2005 Italian Open Final, Nadal d. Coria 1, 6–4, 3–6, 6–3, 4–6, 7–6
Nadal looked cooked. After three sets of clay-court trench warfare with a far more seasoned opponent, Rafa faltered, losing the fourth and falling down a double break in the decider. The break-back point he held at 0–3 felt like a small diversion before Guillermo Coria’s inevitable victory. Nadal, 18 years old at the time, disagreed: He played a patient, mature rally befitting of a much older player, ending with a perfectly timed forehand drop shot. (Show that point to anybody who thinks Alcaraz was the first Spaniard to use the dropper.) He then raised a thickly muscled left arm, leaped in the air, and roared.
What was powering this kid? Suddenly he had renewed energy, covering the court just as relentlessly as he had early on. If Carlos Alcaraz decided to play like Lorenzo Musetti, you’d get something like young Nadal here. Coria seemed to age trying to get the ball past this misplaced track star, even as he played brilliant tennis of his own. One desperate Coria get, off a screaming Nadal forehand down the line, turned into a perfect drop shot. They collided in a tiebreak, where, in classic Rafa fashion, Nadal finished the match the hard way. After missing a second-serve return on one championship point and double-faulting away another, Rafa chased down a variety of Coria rockets, including an overhead, eventually forcing an error with a vicious forehand pass. Nadal then fell to the ground in ecstasy, reacquainting Coria, best known these days for blowing a humongous lead in the 2004 Roland-Garros final, with how it feels to lose after expending every effort your body could offer up. Coria lost in the first round of the tournament in 2006. Nadal reached the final, played a similar epic against Roger Federer, and won that, too. —Owen Lewis
12.
2003 US Open Semifinal, Henin d. Capriati, 4–6, 7–5, 7–6
The ’03 US Open had been halted frequently by rain, to the point where this intriguing semi between Justine Henin and Jennifer Capriati commenced past 9 p.m.
In June, at Roland-Garros, Henin had won her first major singles title. Following 10 years as a teen prodigy and burnout case, Capriati in 2001 and 2002 had snapped up three Grand Slam singles titles. Each now hoped to reach the US Open final for the first time.
Added to the mix was a pleasing style contrast between Capriati’s forceful ground strokes and Henin’s rainbowlike palette of speeds, spins, and an extraordinary one-handed backhand.
For three hours and three minutes, these two lit up Ashe Stadium. Channeling the energy of the American crowd, Capriati came two points away from winning the match a staggering 11 times and served for it in each of the last two sets. But Henin was that rare mix of artist and warrior, repeatedly able to transition from defense to offense—and eventually, at 12:27 a.m. Saturday morning, she won in a third-set tiebreaker. Later that same Saturday, she would defeat compatriot Kim Clijsters in the finals. Four years later, she’d win a second US Open title.
This loss marked the second time Capriati had been beaten in the semis of the US Open in a third-set tiebreaker. Twelve years earlier, she’d lost that way vs. Monica Seles. And one year following the Henin match, more heartbreak in the semis, Capriati beaten in a third-set tiebreaker by Elena Dementieva. —Joel Drucker
11.
2022 Ostrava AGEL Open, Krejcikova d. Swiatek, 5–7, 7–6, 6–3
The 2022 final in Ostrava was three hours and 16 minutes of women’s tennis played at the height of its modern form. That’s what it took for Barbora Krejcikova to hand world No. 1 Iga Swiatek her first loss in a final in more than three years.
At her best, Krejcikova’s flat pace and depth were the perfect foil for Swiatek’s topspin-driven game. On paper, this had all the markings of an intriguing clash. But great matches are not solely defined by quality of play, dramatics, or significance. The truly memorable ones have a certain X factor, some magical alchemy that makes you feel you’re catching lightning in a bottle. In Ostrava, that X factor was…well…Ostrava!!! (Exclamation points courtesy of the tournament’s own campy branding.) A match between Poland’s brightest young sporting star and the Czech Republic’s newest major champion, played on the border of the two neighboring nations, meant a packed-out atmosphere that felt more like a Davis Cup final than a WTA 500 in autumn.
Swiatek and Krejcikova proceeded to reward the passionate fans with an absolute clinic, with Swiatek hitting 42 winners to 30 unforced errors and Krejcikova responding with 44 winners and 41 unforced errors. After holding off Krejcikova in a 73-minute first set, the Pole was two points from a straight-set win. But Krejcikova kept her cool to edge the tiebreak and broke Swiatek to earn a chance to serve out the win. The match ended in a rousing finale, with Swiatek dramatically saving five match points before Krejcikova fired an ace to win. —Courtney Nguyen
10.
2005 Australian Open Semifinal, Safin d. Federer, 5–7, 6–4, 5–7, 7–6, 9–7
Marat Safin is on the very short list of players who have upstaged Roger Federer’s genius. This masterpiece of a semifinal at the Australian Open 2005 against Federer, the revenge of the 2004 final, is his legacy, ahead of his US Open final perfection against Pete Sampras. On that day, Safin, the temperamental artist who reached world No. 1 at 20 in 2000, the youngest of the Open Era at the time, reached a state of grace.
This semifinal against Federer had it all: out-of-this-world quality and variety of play, cast, stakes, twists, and turns. You couldn’t look away. So here I was, waking up the building in the middle of the night in Paris while yelling, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” when Safin saved that match point in that tiebreak (5–6) and sealed his legend. Federer had hit a superb drop-shot volley, but Marat answered with a perfect lob. On a 26-win streak, Federer had seen and lost his last chance. It would be his only loss on a hard court that year (50–1).
That match has also entered legend, because it glued us until the last shot. Safin had two match points on serve at 5–3 in the fifth, another at 5–4, and two more at 6–7. I was laughing-crying when Federer saved No. 6 at 7–8, as it felt unreal. But then, on No. 7, Safin went for that infamous backhand down the line, saw Federer fall while chasing it down, and let his forehand paint the last stroke. Coached by Roger’s former coach Peter Lundgren, Safin would win the title against Lleyton Hewitt, but he’d never play another Grand Slam final. He had already entered tennis immortality, so be it. —Carole Bouchard
9.
2017 Australian Open Final, Federer d. Nadal, 6–4, 3–6, 6–1, 3–6, 6–3
Imagine possessing 17 Grand Slam singles titles and realizing you must have the courage to implement a significant change. Add the fact that your greatest rival held a 23–11 lead in your matches, including the three previous times you’d played each other on the court you’re about to compete on. This was what Roger Federer faced as he entered Rod Laver Arena to play the 2017 Australian Open final vs. Rafael Nadal. Eight years earlier, a five-set loss to Nadal in the finals had brought Federer to tears. There’d also been semifinal defeats Down Under in ’12 and ’14.
In 2017, Federer arrived in Melbourne ranked 17, largely the result of missing the last six months of 2016 while recovering from knee surgery. He’d also gone more than four years without winning a major. Nadal, also hindered throughout ’16, was ranked nine. Versus Nadal, the Federer backhand had frequently been exposed, primarily due to the Spaniard’s lethal left-handed crosscourt forehand. But on this evening, Federer committed to hitting his backhand earlier and harder. That step would prove decisive, kick-starting Federer’s entire game. Still, Nadal went ahead 3–1 in the fifth—at which point Federer played five of the greatest games of his career. Not just the backhand, but every other aspect of the Federer game sparkled as he earned a redemptive Slam triumph. Federer would go on to win Wimbledon that year and take another Australian title in ’18—his final major. Nadal too would continue to excel, winning another eight Slams. —Joel Drucker
8.
2019 Wimbledon Final, Djokovic d. Federer, 7–6, 1–6, 7–6, 4–6, 13–12
“Tennis is the most beautiful sport there is and also the most demanding,” wrote David Foster Wallace in String Theory, and this match is a stained-glass mirror reflecting the brightest and harshest rays of that truth. I came into this match as a Roger Federer fan, and so did most of Centre Court that day. Federer had just become the first player ever to reach 350 Grand Slam match wins en route to the final, and the world felt primed for another chapter in his glimmering storybook. Which only adds another layer to make what Novak Djokovic did that afternoon feel more impossible. With the stakes as high as ever and the crowd against you, it became the ultimate test of Billie Jean King’s idea that pressure is a privilege. I spent the longest final in Wimbledon history, all four hours and 57 minutes, on Do Not Disturb and clinging to the edge of my seat.
Federer served at 8–7 in the fifth, up 40–15, two championship points from what would have been his ninth Wimbledon and 21st Slam. I vividly remember thinking, This is it, as the camera cut to his wife, Mirka, unable to look, and the commentator saying, “Breathe in, breathe out,” while I tried doing the same on my couch. Then seven straight points from Djokovic. Seven! The crowd roar and buzz turned into deafening disbelief.
This was also the first year Wimbledon used a 12–12 final-set tiebreak, making this the first Slam final ever decided by it. Djokovic, the top seed, defended his title, winning 7–6, 1–6, 7–6, 4–6, 13–12 for his fifth Wimbledon and 16th major, widening their head-to-head rivalry to 26–22. He became the first man in 71 years to win Wimbledon after erasing match points in the final. Federer left without No. 21, without a ninth Wimbledon, and in what would be his last Grand Slam final appearance. After the match, I thought back to Wallace’s words. How can this not be the most beautiful sport there is? —Jordaan Ashley
7.
2017 Miami Semifinal, Federer d. Kyrgios, 7–6, 6–7, 7–6
If there’s been a better three-set men’s match in the past 25 years, I missed it. It wasn’t exactly a shock that these two would put on a show that year in Miami. At 35, and having spent much of 2016 recovering from a meniscus tear, Federer had already startled tennis with a 2017 return that instantly signaled a late-career revival, winning the Australian Open and Indian Wells. (It would turn out to be his best year since 2007!) Nick Kyrgios, for his part, had begun his season beating Novak Djokovic twice: At 21, was he becoming the player he had the gifts to be?
The scoreline alone announces a crazy-good match. A match that, really, came down to three gambler’s go-for-it second serves from Kyrgios, resulting in three crushing misses: one to surrender a first-set break he’d earned; a second in the first-set tiebreak at 9–9 that provided Federer with a set-point opportunity he capitalized on; the third at 5–5 in a third-set tiebreak that he’d lose on the very next point, smashing his racquet after failing to return a Fed serve out wide to his backhand. It wasn’t just how close it was, though. It was everything, or everything you might expect from two players with electrifying attack games: penetrating flat forehands (one from Kyrgios clocked at 119 mph); big serves to all parts of the box; balls taken as early as possible; why-not net rushes, nasty slices, uncanny backhands down the line. And clean, given the point-in, point-out audacity—and the noise from a Key Biscayne crowd that reached Davis Cup decibels. It was proto-Sincaraz, and it was mesmerizing. —Gerald Marzorati
6.
2001 US Open Quarterfinal, Sampras d. Agassi, 6–7, 7–6, 7–6, 7–6
Andre was 31, Pete was 30. The two best players of the ’90s, now in their twilight. Going into the match, Andre had won their last three meetings, 6–1 in the 5th in the 2000 Aussie semi, and then Andre bludgeoned him in the finals of Indian Wells and Los Angeles (yes, there was once a tournament in L.A.). “The feeling that you had walking onto a court with him, you felt like you were a part of something that was bigger than both of us,” Andre told me of Pete back in 2006. “The feeling was its own entity, its own animal, its own energy.”
In their round of 16 matches, Andre had battered an outmatched teenager who had beaten Pete at Wimbledon earlier that summer—Roger Federer—and Pete had beaten the defending champion, Pat Rafter, in four sets.
Andre looked clean in head-to-toe black, ditto for Pete in white. Pete was on fire from the beginning, dialed in, hitting his spots with that perfect serve, demonstrating his uncanny athleticism, point after point, game after game. Andre in free flow was a beautiful thing to see. He could not have played better. Murdering the ball, penetrating the court to Pete’s backhand, over and over. But Pete was knifing the backhand with great success and then ripping it with a remarkable ferociousness that for Andre was hard to forget. When Pete established that he could hang with Andre a little from the baseline, that meant trouble. Neither player lost his serve, but after losing the first-set breaker 10–8, Pete won the next three breakers.
To watch it now is amazing. Tennis is no longer played like that. The evolution of hyper-carbonated ground strokes coupled with the slowing of the courts no longer allows for Pete’s style. A year later Pete would beat Andre to win the Open, 6–4 in the fourth. It would be the last pro match Pete ever played. —Craig Shapiro
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The Top 25 Matches of the Century So Far — 5 - 2
5.
2005 Australian Open Semifinal, S. Williams d. Sharapova, 2–6, 7–5, 8–6
As 17-year-old Maria Sharapova stepped to the baseline to serve for the match in the second set, up 5–4 and having yet to be broken, it seemed for all the world like an inflection point. She’d used the depth and angles of her ground strokes to dominate Serena Williams in the first set (6–2), as she had in the previous year’s Wimbledon final and WTA Championships. Williams had undergone knee surgery at the end of 2003, and through 2004 was not the player—the crushingly dominant player—she’d been from late in the winter of 2002 through the spring of 2003, a stretch during which she, at one point, held all four Grand Slam titles. Was she, at 25, now on the way to…done? She was not.
A revivified Williams forehand and a ghastly double fault at 15–40 evened the set, which Williams went on to win 7–5 after breaking Sharapova again. Set 3 was 66 minutes of breathless tension and fight in the cauldron created by the Australian summer heat. Maria’s yelps grew louder. Serena’s glares grew longer. The baseline rallies left both of them gasping for air. Once again, Sharapova secured a late break and was serving for the match at 5–4. Once again, she failed to get it done, despite holding three match points, an epic almost—overwhelmed or wrong-footed by some of the most daring forehands Williams would ever strike. Williams eventually prevailed 8–6, went on to win the final—and went on (inflection point!) to become Serena. Along the way, she never lost to Sharapova again. —Gerald Marzorati
4.
2009 Australian Open Semifinal, Nadal d. Verdasco, 6-7(4), 6-4, 7-6(2), 6-7(1), 6-4
If you are a true tennis fanatic, there’s something about waking up in the middle of the night to watch a big match. It just means more when you have to set your alarm for 3:30 a.m. to watch a spectacle unfold.
In the case of the 2009 Australian Open semifinal between Rafael Nadal and Fernando Verdasco, sacrificing a little bit of sleep was no price at all. What unfolded was an instant classic—a five-hour and 14-minute marathon of the utmost quality that ended at 1:07 in the morning (9:07 EST!). What I remember most about the match was the absurdity of the baseline rallies. Even Alcaraz vs. Sinner matches would be jealous of what Nadal and Verdasco produced from the back of the court.
No statistic can do justice to what we saw with our own eyes. But if you somehow missed it, there is proof in the numbers. Just how good was this tennis match? Verdasco blasted a ridiculous 95 winners…and lost! Nadal made only 25 unforced errors. That’s right, of 385 total points played, a mere 25 ended with a Nadal mistake.
Seventeen years later, I still can’t decide how I feel about the match ending on a Verdasco double fault. On the one hand, that’s not how any legendary contest should ever end. On the other hand, it sort of augments Verdasco’s career-long role as a tragic hero.
Although a loss to Federer in the championship two days later would have done nothing to diminish Nadal’s semifinal feat, the fact that he went on to lift the trophy—after yet another five-set thriller against Federer—allows the Nadal-Verdasco match to live in even higher echelons of tennis lore. —Ricky Dimon
3.
2024 Madrid Open Final, Swiatek d. Sabalenka, 7–5, 4–6, 7–6
The crown jewel in one of the tour’s best rivalries. Swiatek won the first set of this final surgically enough, as you might expect given her ridiculous résumé on the dirt. But from early in set 2, Sabalenka found whichever area of the court she liked with her titanic ground strokes, forcing the modern Queen of Clay to play the rest of the match on the back foot. Swiatek did whatever she could to jam up the gears of the hostile ball machine on the other side of the net: anticipating putaways to her forehand and sliding them past Sabalenka for crosscourt passing shots; counterpunching deep backhands on the run; attacking early and with venom in the rare peaceful moments in a rally that Sabalenka did not dominate. Each woman executed her strategy to near-perfection, whittling the margin for error down to nothing.
Sabalenka thwacked her way to two championship points at 6–5 in the third set, then another in the deciding-set tiebreak. Swiatek erased one with a purposeful forehand winner—off a Sabalenka return that wasn’t too shabby either—and the other two fell away thanks to Aryna’s suddenly nervous, uncertain swings. Though Sabalenka had beaten Swiatek in the 2023 Madrid final, beating the Pole on clay remained a very real mental block. (Naomi Osaka would learn the same thing when up match point against Swiatek at Roland-Garros the next month.) Sabalenka saved a championship point herself with a pinpoint ace, but Swiatek’s greater reliability down the stretch proved the difference. At Roland-Garros in 2025, with Iga’s aura of invincibility somewhat dented after an uncommonly flawed clay season, Sabalenka got her revenge in a semifinal played at a similar standard for the first two sets before wilting in the third. The Madrid final remaining spectacular until the end makes it a tough act to follow, even for these two. —Owen Lewis
2.
2005 Wimbledon Final, V. Williams d. Davenport, 4–6, 7–6, 9–7
True to its status as tennis’ most important tournament, Wimbledon’s press seats are unsurpassed—close enough to the court that you can hear each player’s shoes squeak. And so, on Saturday, July 2, 2005, I occupied a seat on the north end of Centre Court, watching Venus Williams and Lindsay Davenport play one another in the final.
It was fascinating to see these two champions, raised within a 30-minute car ride of each other in Southern California. Both were hungry for a big result. Williams had last won a major in 2001, Davenport in 2000. While some rivalries revolve around contrasts, this one tilted on similarities: powerful ground-strokers, each able to repeatedly drive the ball deep and hard. Each had played excellent tennis in the semis, Williams beating defending champion Maria Sharapova, Davenport fighting hard to get past versatile Amelie Mauresmo.
Having won the first set, Davenport served for the title at 6–5. But Williams countered sharply and took the set in a tiebreaker. In the third, the quality of play picked up nicely, with power, precision, and movement rising to the occasion.
Then there came a moment neither will ever forget.
Williams served at 4–5, 30–30, and double-faulted. Facing championship point, Williams quickly gained control of the rally and laced an untouchable down-the-line backhand. Per the Wimbledon tradition of those years, there would be no tiebreaker. At 7–all, Williams broke Davenport and then held serve at 15—becoming the first woman since 1935 to win the Wimbledon singles title after facing championship point.
The day before the final, Williams had made the case for equal prize money to Wimbledon officials. By playing one of the greatest finals in the tournament’s history, she’d emphatically proved her point. Two years later, equal prize money became a reality at SW19—and this time, too, Williams won the title. All told, Williams and Davenport would play each other 27 times, Davenport winning 14. Of course, no one knew that this would also be the last time they’d meet—and, poetically, their final encounter proved a masterpiece. —Joel Drucker
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The Top 25 Matches of the Century So Far — 1
1.
2022 US Open Quarterfinal, Alcaraz d. Sinner, 6–3, 6–7, 6–7, 7–5, 6–3
We are here to celebrate, of course, that transcendent five-setter, where Jannik Sinner held match point before being undone by Carlos Alcaraz, where both players asserted themselves as the premier talents of their generation, where they produced dozens of rallies that defied lay understanding of what was possible in the sport, where they advanced the societal relevance and physical limits of tennis itself. Oh, not that one. I meant the other one.
Yes, I’m talking about the predecessor: the 2022 US Open quarterfinal, between a 21-year-old Sinner and 19-year-old Alcaraz. When the match concluded at 2:50 a.m, I felt I’d caught an illicit, long-awaited glimpse of the ATP beyond the “Big Three” era. Back then these two were still primordial goo. Alcaraz had won bigger titles. Sinner had been a top player for a little longer. But there was still so much to prove. Neither one had yet reached world No. 1, won a Slam, beaten Novak Djokovic in a best-of-five, or even really figured out his own serve.
All those facts enhanced the spectacle. I am increasingly convinced that the best matches are those between nondominant servers who move beautifully. And at the time I was certain I had never seen kids so noodly in physique covering the court with such violence and flair. Without serves to win free points, both players had to deploy their ground strokes in inventive ways in order to gain any advantage in the rally. I am also convinced that the best matches are played between players who are learning, in real time, that they can do preternatural things. When Sinner slides into a screaming open-stance backhand, or Alcaraz leaps into the air for a behind-the-back passing shot, I see them writing their own styles into being.
Their rivalry was then in a state of naivete. It was just the fourth time these two had met on the pro level. You could see them noticing and adjusting to the other’s moves—say, sneaking over to a new return position to counter a wide service position, or reading the drop shot better and better. There was still mystery between them then. Now their knowledge of each other seems nearly total. By their own admission, they spend weeks of their lives on the practice court, studying, specifically, how to beat each other.
Thankfully this hasn’t made their tennis any less enthralling. In 2025 they completed a trilogy of Sincaraz Slam finals. It began on the clay of Roland-Garros, with a match that mirrored the dizzying level and scope of this one. If the 2022 US Open was an omen of greatness, then the 2025 Roland-Garros was the fulfillment of that promise, the formal pronouncement of a new era in men’s tennis. By that time they were stronger, wiser, more technically sound, playing for even higher stakes. A few weeks after that match in Paris, still feeling its reverberations, I found myself on a familiar years-old highlight reel, looking back, once more, to a past made richer by the future now visible. —Giri Nathan
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TSS Holiday Gift Guide
Net Gains
Net Gains
Our last-minute tennis gift guide.
Our last-minute tennis gift guide.
By The Second Serve
December 5, 2025
While the tennis fan in your life is likely still white-knuckling the interminable offseason (six whole weeks!), there’s still time to ply them with tennisy gifts this holiday season. According to our staff and contributors, here’s our short list of TSS-approved gifts that will still arrive in time for your holiday of choice. Or just buy this stuff for yourself on Boxing Day to make up for a disappointing haul. Either way, we’re here to help suffering tennis enthusiasts make it to the start of the Australian summer with their sanity intact. It’s been a very trying winter, and it hasn’t even started yet, so spread holiday tennis cheer whether it’s at the indoor courts, in the racquet bag, or on St. Kilda Beach in Melbourne.
Brain Dead x adidas Barricade 13
They’re finally here. L.A. icons Brain Dead have partnered with adidas on a pair of Barricade 13s—the latest iteration of one of the longest-running on-court tennis shoes in the game—featuring looks that bring sport and casual wear together as seen on TSS’s own David Bartholow and in OPEN Tennis Vol. 2. Known for its stability, torsion system, and lockdown fit, the Barricade has been a mainstay on the court for decades, quietly marking its 25th year in 2025, according to Tim Newcomb in our weekly newsletter. Key details include a translucent outsole exposing speckled underlays, metallic silver 3-Stripes, co-branded sock liners, and custom tongue branding. It really is the most exciting performance shoe release in recent memory.
TSS x Eddie Martinez
Solinco Whiteout 305
This custom racquet combines Solinco’s expertise in crafting sporting equipment of quality, performance, and versatility with Brooklyn artist Eddie Martinez’s signature tennis ball and “blockhead” motifs to create a stylish racquet for discerning players and fans. The Whiteout is designed to offer players with faster swing speeds a precise control- and feel-oriented racquet. Each racquet comes with a copy of The Second Serve’s new print magazine, OPEN Tennis Vol. 1, Solinco Hyper-G racquet strings, as well as stickers and dampeners bearing Eddie Martinez and The Second Serve’s designs. Sold exclusively by The Second Serve.
Yonex EZONE 98
Our creative director David Bartholow has been playing with previous iterations of the Yonex EZONE for years, and while he was devoted to them, they could be a touch stiff, so balls tended to fly unexpectedly. The new, eighth-generation EZONE, though, is a “flawless update,” he says. The EZONE 98 has a thinner beam and is significantly more maneuverable than the previous versions and has a “ridiculously buttery feel” when paired with Poly Tour Pro 125. “In moments, whether delusional or not, you get the sense that you can do almost anything with this instrument,” says Bartholow.
Nike Zoom Vapor 12
After a few wayward years where Nike inexplicably veered from the foolproof Vapor platform they introduced in 2012 by way of Roger Federer, the course has finally been corrected. Not only that, says Bartholow, but the new Vapors might be the best ones yet. While it has lost some of that amazing plushness from previous generations, the shoe is somehow infinitely more durable: “Pairs that once evaporated in six weeks are now lasting me three to five months of playing five days a week.” The addition of a TPU layer to the toe and primary wear areas brings much-needed protection that only contributes to the improved durability. “They’re also a touch longer and more true to size, which my toes appreciate. Whereas previous versions required zero break-in period, these do require a few sessions, but nothing crazy. As a self-professed Vapor head, one could say I’m downright elated that Nike understands how important it is to preserve this shoe,” says Bartholow.
Tecnifibre TF40 305
Patrick Riley, of the band Tennis, was a highly touted junior player before he burned out, as many of us do, so when he picked up tennis again (the sport, that is) recently, he was overwhelmed. “Getting back into tennis after taking a 15-year break, I was entirely lost on what I wanted,” said Reilly. As a junior he played with Head Prestige frames, “but a lot has changed: Balls are slower, I am slower and weaker. (This is not entirely true: Reilly’s slick game was photographed for OPEN Tennis Vol. 2, and we can confirm he still commands the court.) “The TF40 305, with the 18×20 string pattern, was the perfect choice to bridge the gap; it has the feel and control of a Prestige but significantly more power and is light enough to customize,” he said.
“Tweener” Tee
When the US Open released its official merch, one design looked strangely familiar. The Brooklyn-based brand Bageled NYC has been making small runs of tennis-centric merch and accessories that you can see worn by locals in the Fort Greene tennis scene, in Brooklyn. As reported in our Groundies column, their most iconic design features founder Sam Burns’ drawing of “Bagel Bud” hitting a vicious tweener while grinning. The shirt’s tagline, “Served Fresh Daily,” also happens to appear, verbatim, on the USTA’s bagel shirt. Accept no substitutes.
Open Tennis Long Sleeve Tee
New in, our midweight long sleeve T-shirt features the OPEN Tennis and The Second Serve logo on the backside and left chest (and has a standard fit that tapers slightly from the chest to the waist hem). It was designed with a wide rib collar, semi-raglan sleeves, and signature flatlock construction, which is all to say it’s extremely classy. Our latest muted colorway is perfect for indoor tennis season. Printed on Reigning Champ’s Midweight Jersey Standard Long Sleeve shirt.
Fedal Holding Hands Tee
It’s the LVBL x Stand Up To Cancer x The Second Serve crewneck sweatshirt, featuring the painting “Federer and Nadal holding hands while crying,” by the writer and artist Sam Anderson. Why not immortalize the tender moments surrounding Rog’s retirement in wearable form? All proceeds go to benefit Stand Up To Cancer.
Head Radical MP
Don’t be afraid of trying new gear! Mike Belgue of the sportswear brand Reigning Champ had been using Tim Henman-era Slazenger racquets for the past 15 years, firmly stuck in his glory days, until a friend at Head suggested he try the Radical MP. “Not only did I have less arm and shoulder discomfort, but I felt like I could get balls that were out of reach previously, and when I got my racquet on them, I had more control while also having more effortless power,” he wrote in OPEN Tennis Vol. 2. “It still has a ton of touch while feeling confident with plow-through, but it’s so much more compliant than my old racquet. The equipment change renewed my vigor for the sport, and I’m sure it’s added years to my arm.”
Tecnifibre X-One Tennis Balls
Let’s be honest: All the tennis lovers in your life want for the holidays is tennis balls. “The Tecnifibre X-One is a remarkable ball that is insanely durable,” said Brain Dead’s Kyle Ng in OPEN Tennis Vol. 1. “I don’t know what X D-Core is, but it’s doing its job! This is a heavy ball that you don’t need to toss in the dumpster or ball machine after the first few hits. It can go the distance. And an extra ball per can is everything.” Nothing embodies optimism more than a fresh case of balls!
Courtship: For the Love of Tennis
Writes editor David Shaftel in OPEN Tennis Vol. 3 (out next month!), “Conceived by the model, writer, photographer, and activist Laura Bailey, the hefty, best-in-class Courtship features nearly 200 pages of images by the landscape photographer Mark Arrigo. Arrigo’s photos of courts are diverse, moody, and comprehensive. The photos are accompanied by a section of essays by the likes of Bailey, as well as Judy Murray, Peter Gabriel, Billie Jean King, Anna Wintour, and many more boldfaced names. The book is a thorough encapsulation of Bailey’s tennis life, an intoxicating mix of high- and lowbrow courts.”
Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind
“In Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, Shunryu Suzuki distills shoshin (beginner’s mind) into a reader-friendly guide that sheds light on the life- and tennis-applicable facets of Buddhism,” said our resident coach, Simon Hegelund, in OPEN Tennis Vol. 2. “I recommend this to players who tend to put pressure on themselves, are highly ambitious, and perhaps find themselves stuck. In the beginner’s mind, everything is practice.”
Changeover: A Young Rivalry and a New Era of Men's Tennis
Lauded by everyone who lauds books, Changeover is the definitive text on the rivalry between Carlos Alcaraz and Jannik Sinner, by the definitive tennis writer of his generation, Giri Nathan (who also happens to be the writer of our weekly newsletter). Our resident book critic Patrick Sauer called it a “fantastic, propulsive, deeply considered look at the Sincaraz phenomenon.” It’s required reading for fans of both the modern game and literary sportswriting.
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Fuzzy Memories
Fuzzy Memories
A Q&A with Nicholas Fox Weber, author of
The Art of Tennis.
By Patrick Sauer
November 6, 2025
Fuzzy Memories
A Q&A with Nicholas Fox Weber, author of The Art of Tennis.
By Patrick J. Sauer
November 6, 2025
If asked to describe the ideal of tennis artistry, most fans would pull from a familiar canon: the angled dead-on-arrival drop shot, a feathery one-hand backhand slice, a down-the-line buggy whip forehand, a leaping at-the-apex overhead smash, a perfectly placed just-inside-the-baseline lob, or perhaps the Serena Special, a walk-off ace-up-the-tee. Outside of the underarm quick serve, there is no wrong answer—Michael Chang cramping in his ’89 French Open victory excepted—the beauty is in the eye of the match-watching beholder.
There is, however, an entirely different way of answering the question. Proper responses could include Caravaggio, William Shakespeare’s Henry V, Rene Lacoste’s alligator (er, crocodile?), Katharine Hepburn, Diego Rivera, Tom and Jerry, Babar the Elephant, Errol Flynn, or former First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy, all of whom warrant a sporting mention in Nicholas Fox Weber’s superb new book The Art of Tennis.
Weber, who turns 78 next month, is the acclaimed author of 15 art and architecture books and a lifetime tennis devotee who only began opining on the sport, in print, in the past decade. He’s made up for all that lost time and more in The Art of Tennis, as it’s one of the most idiosyncratic, enlightening, and enjoyable books about the inspired creativity the sport has given rise to that I’ve come across. Weber introduces a menagerie of fashionably erudite characters like Bunny Austin, the man who, at Wimbledon 1933, broke down the no-shorts barrier, and art critic Henry McBride, who had a “musical portrait” written in his honor called “Tennis” with notes and tempo listed as “point, set, match.”
Weber makes time for familiar players of the past like Bill Tilden, Helen Wills, Althea Gibson, and Guillermo Vilas, but the author goes wherever the ball bounces. There are detours to the Middle Ages, to mid-century Broadway, to present-day Africa, and to meet a few of his personal friends, including his dogged tennis partner Nick Ohly. There is a warm chapter on Ohly, who died of a massive heart attack during a midday lawn match in New Haven, Conn., one of countless rolling matches over a long friendship, moments after saying to Weber with a smile on his face: “Let’s keep going. It’s such a nice day, and the game is so much fun.”
It really is. From his apartment in Paris, Weber spoke to The Second Serve about the art—and soul—he called upon in writing his first book about the game he loves.
“Animal Locomotion,” Plate 294, Eadweard Muybridge
“Animal Locomotion,” Plate 294, Eadweard Muybridge
I swear this isn’t asked in jealousy, but how did you come to live in both Ireland and Paris?
In my early 20s I fell in love with a remote corner of West Cork, so in the ’80s my wife, Kathy, and I bought a small house overlooking the sea. Over the years it’s become more and more of our home. The town didn’t have anywhere to play tennis, so we built a lovely court set out in a field. It’s got fake grass, an Astroturf that survives the rain very well. It’s wonderful.
I’d been to Paris a fair bit in my life, but in 1999 I started going in earnest. I was working on a biography of the architect Le Corbusier, and we enrolled our daughter in a Parisian high school. We planned on doing one term. Twenty-five years later, it’s like neither of us ever left. We live near the Bon Marche, so I can bike to Roland-Garros. I won’t mention the ridiculous price I paid for great seats for an Alexander Zverev match at the last French Open, but seeing him at eye level was quite an experience. Most of my life is in Europe now. In the last year, I spent maybe a grand total of six weeks in Connecticut.
As far as your personal connection to tennis, have you always played, and are you any good?
As a kid I played on a public court, out there with my father teaching the Western grip. At summer camp I learned on clay, and from there I went on to full-time tennis camp. Unfortunately, I was never very good. Although at 77, I feel like I’m playing fairly well, which is not something I would’ve said at 16. In my 40s I decided to improve my French-speaking skills and my tennis as a way of handling the midlife crisis. In Paris I encountered a wonderful teaching pro from Cameroon, Pierre Otolo, and that relationship was the beginning of a marked improvement in my game.
Rene Lacoste
Rene Lacoste
The title of the book is interesting because what it’s “about” is self-evident but also doesn’t capture the book’s unique spirit or structure. So, what’s your nutshell description of The Art of Tennis?
Let me back up a bit and explain how it evolved. It wasn’t even 10 years ago when I started writing for Courts magazine. It was published in French by a Belgian man who didn’t edit me. He printed and translated whatever I wrote, so I was able to follow the muse. Once I began writing tennis essays, I couldn’t stop. I became so curious about tennis-related artifacts I’d come across, like a porcelain plate in the Musée d’Orsay decorated by painter Édouard Vuillard. It was commissioned by Claude Anet, the first French national tennis champion, for his wife, with the sumptuous name Alice Nye Wetherbee. A little sleuthing revealed Anet’s given name was Jean Schopfer; his pseudonym came from a lover of French Enlightenment philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Schopfer moonlighted as an art critic, gallery owner, and author of multiple books, including a firsthand 1917 journalistic account of the Russian Revolution, and a novel director Billy Wilder later adapted as Love in the Afternoon, the 1957 movie starring Gary Cooper and Audrey Hepburn.
Fascinating guy, right? This is a long way of saying the book is about how tennis shows up in painting, sculpture, fashion, ballet, literature, etc., all the different art forms. At the same time, it’s about tennis as an art form unto itself.
The Art of Tennis isn’t structured chronologically or organized by defined sections, and each chapter works as a stand-alone, so how did you land on the through-line flow?
I can’t exactly explain it, except that one thing just sort of fell into place right after another. Now, if one chapter had a certain degree of humor or frivolity, I’d shift to one that was more serious in nature to follow, but it wasn’t a struggle piecing it together. It would be pretentious to compare my method to the way a composer composes, the way they move music in a direction that feels right, but the order of the book came along on its own.
There aren’t many descriptions of individual tennis matches or various strokes per se, but one motif you go back to multiple times is the beauty of a proper serve. What thrills you about a perfect point-starter?
It starts with the fact I’ve been trying to improve my serve since I was 8 at Tamarack Tennis Camp up in New Hampshire. Our wonderful tennis pro, Jack Kenney, said I had a “telephone booth serve,” meaning I was stuck in the tight glass enclosure and not reaching far enough in any direction. I’m not a natural athlete, so players who master the serve amaze me. Just think of the joint timing of the toss, which comes from the weaker hand, and the serving motion that requires the rest of the body. It’s amazing.
I took some lessons this summer, and the teacher actually helped improve my serve. He had great pointers on tossing the ball a bit more out of front and stepping into it the correct way. I’m serving with more consistency than I ever remember.
"Le Tennis", Charles Martin
"Le Tennis", Charles Martin
It’s good to know one is never too old to pick something new, but also that you’re still, as you put it in the book, “the intellectual who always wanted to be a jock…”
To this day, I watch a tennis match and have the complete fantasy of being on the court hitting these extraordinary shots. In reality, I’m thrilled to still be out there playing. I’ve been diagnosed with Parkinson’s.
Sorry to hear that.
Thank you. One thing those of us with Parkinson’s are supposed to do is move around a great deal and keep up our coordination. I work out with a trainer every day. Part of our routine is to play Ping-Pong and tennis. It’s my happily self-imposed treatment.
I’m glad tennis is still part of your life and equally glad you didn’t mention pickleball…
In Connecticut, I play on three public courts, two of which have been turned over. There are many advantages to living in France. One of them is that you hear very little about pickleball.
Let’s talk about some of the specific chapters, starting with “Green or Yellow?”
I run the Albers Foundation, which is dedicated to the preservation and promotion of the works of Josef and Anni Albers, the brilliant Bauhaus artists. Josef was a color theorist who devoted his life to the idea that color doesn’t exactly describe anything. If I say red, some people think of the Coca-Cola shade, others might think of LEGO. Both are correct, but neither are the same. I started to consider Josef’s notion in terms of tennis balls. The majority of people say they’re yellow, but there are plenty who swear they’re green. Which is it? How can a color be the equivalent of both a lemon and a lime? The question led me to the discovery of how tennis balls were white until 1967, when Sir David Attenborough got permission from the BBC to broadcast in color. Tennis ball colors changed because the color of the entire spectrum changed, which Josef would’ve loved. There are no absolutes when it comes to colors. Even tennis balls.
Walking down a London street a few years back, you spotted a Russian Fabergé tennis trophy in a storefront window, which upon closer inspection was awarded to the mixed-double champs at the 1912 lawn tournament in Saint Petersburg. Why was this discovery so important to you?
As a student at Columbia, I had a love for the works of Tolstoy and Turgenev, and was fascinated by the extremes of life in 19th-century Russia. I came across this fancy New York shop that carried luxurious Tsarist artifacts. I couldn’t afford a single thing in there—although for my 21st birthday my older sister bought me a medal from there, which, in Russian, is for “meritorious police service.” I treasure it and still use it as a key chain.
Anyway, I’ve always been attracted to these lavish, expensive items that have no bearing on my actual life, so I was completely taken with the elegant simplicity of the Fabergé tennis trophy. It was an aha moment as it hit me that the ones given out to champions today are ugly, unwieldy, and, worst of all, not emblematic of the sport. These ornate trophies are all over the place, which is not how you play successful tennis. The trophies should be streamlined, lean and mean. It’s possible this chapter contains a bit of envy as I don’t have a room filled with tennis trophies engraved with my name.
On that fitting Russian note, you have a chapter on Vladimir Nabokov. What about his tennis writing in Lolita rings true to you, especially given you first probably read it more than half a century ago?
This question might be better suited for psychoanalysis. Memory is a blur, but the first thing that comes to mind are the fetching young women I played tennis with as a teenager. Nabokov describes things so exquisitely, you can feel the atmosphere on the tennis court. It’s a sport that plays well for an ingenue, which he captures, but also pompous men of bluster like Humbert. I have a fondness for depictions of puffed-up, arrogant tennis types, the ones found on New Yorker covers.
This isn’t in the book, but here’s a real-life example. The Swiss actor Maximilian Schell was a collector of Josef Albers’ art and played an important role in Anni’s life. We became close friends when I wrote her biography and kept in touch. We couldn’t have been less like one another—Max was dark and handsome, I never dated Princess Soroya of Iran—so there was a bit of a rivalry thing going on. For years he’d repeat, “We should play tennis sometime,” but we never did. One morning, after an overnight flight to Munich, I met up with Max, and he decides today is the day we play a match. I’m fatigued, had gotten very little sleep, didn’t have a racquet or even any clothes. I had to wear Schell’s whites. He’s bigger than me, so I’m out there on the court barely holding my shorts up. But my competitive instincts—seasoned with a degree of rage—got ahold of me. Jet lag and all, I beat him in straight sets.
"The Death of Hyacinth", Francesco Buoneri
"The Death of Hyacinth", Francesco Buoneri
There you go. How many everyday players can say they whupped an Academy Award winner on his home court?
Guessing not many. As a claim to fame, I’ll take it.
My favorite chapter is “Anyone for Tennis,” which tracks the long, convoluted history of that particular cliché. What surprised you while digging into the phraseological bit?
I have a fuzzy recollection when I was young of someone walking into a room and, apropos of not actually heading out to the court, saying, “Tennis, anyone?” I was baffled; where did that even come from? And then, my God! One of the earliest mentions comes from a young theater actor named Humphrey Bogart? Who walked out and loudly said it to clear the stage of non-lead actors? And then in interviews over the years, Bogart allowed that yes, he was the first to say it, but also denied he ever said it all? There’s also the lingering question of whether it originated as “Tennis, anyone?” “Tennis, anybody?” or “Anyone for tennis?” The phrase’s lineage includes George Bernard Shaw, Somerset Maugham, Bob Hope, Eric Clapton, and Monty Python. The idea that this goofy enduring expression—which, in Billy Wilder’s 1954 film Sabrina, represented not the actual sport but, as I say in the book, “a happy-go-lucky pleasure-seeking rich boy”—contains truth, a lack thereof, and something in between has long intrigued me.
I’m fairly certain I first heard “Tennis, anyone?” in a Looney Tunes cartoon…
Apparently, after the first time my wife, Kathy, took me home to meet my future mother-in-law, she said to her daughter, “Well, I didn’t expect Bugs Bunny.” The night before our wedding, I didn’t sleep well. The day of, I had all sorts of nervous energy, and I knew the judge was a tennis player. We played three sets before the ceremony. Next year, Kathy and I celebrate our 50th anniversary.
It’s not in The Art of Tennis, but given the book’s nature, I’m wondering, what did you think of Challengers?
I’ve rarely been so ambivalent about a movie in my entire life. I know the director, Luca Guadagnino, we were supposed to work on a film about the Alberses together. I was totally biased in favor of Challengers, but it is just so extreme. There are moments where I just don’t know what to make of it, except to say it’s got a lot of energy.
Lastly, can you please tell me how your Senegalese nonprofit came to be and what part tennis plays in it?
Early on in Paris, I needed to go to a dermatologist, but it felt like an invasion of my teenage daughter’s space to go see hers. I opened the yellow pages and found a doctor named Gilles Degois. It doesn’t get more French than that, so I figured it would be a chance to practice my language skills. He picked up my American accent right away and said a sentence to me, in French, that ended with President Bush. We began to talk about world affairs. He told me he helped run a small charity where doctors went to eastern Senegal four times a year to provide medical care and to continue building a facility. I’m not sure what came over me, but I looked at Dr. Degois and said, “I’d like to go with you.” Knowing these doctors were spending their own money and vacation time to go to an extremely underprivileged part of the world proved life-changing.
Unlike American charities, they run on a shoestring budget. Initially, I simply helped raise U.S. funds. Later, I started a very modest support group to build another medical center in a different rural locale. There was no facility for miles around, so people relied on local cures and inadequate medicine. It took off, one thing led to another, and eventually we built a kindergarten, maternity and pediatric wards, and we’re now working on a small museum. I’ve never been able to comprehend why some of us are lucky enough to be born into fortunate circumstances and others aren’t. I’m not from an aristocratic family or anything, but I certainly got to play tennis growing up, so why shouldn’t other kids? Tennis is how my instructor and friend Pierre Otolo was able to provide for his family. Pierre was born into poverty, but he crossed paths with Yannick Noah’s father, who ran a junior team of Black players that opened up a world of opportunities. Pierre frequently returns to Cameroon, using tennis as a springboard to impact hundreds of lives in positive ways. He’s served as another inspiration to me.
About a dozen years ago, we built a court in the village of Sinthian. Incredibly, it’s become a gathering place where we provide medical care and supplies, and hold all types of recreational activities. I believe everyone should get the chance to play tennis. It’s one of the joys of life, and nobody had ever played before. In Senegal, the first person I played with was the young man who drives me everywhere. Those roads are too tough for me to navigate. One morning, he drove me to the courts. I asked him if he wanted to join me on the court. He’d never held a racquet, so the first thing I did was show him how, just like I was taught all those years ago.
Every time I visit Senegal, we play tennis.
Le Petit Echo de la Mode, 1936
Le Petit Echo de la Mode, 1936
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An October Surprise
An October Surprise
An October Surprise
Nobody told Vicky Mboko and Alex Eala they should be phoning it in.
Nobody told Vicky Mboko and Alex Eala they should be phoning it in.
By Giri Nathan
October 31, 2025
Vicky Mboko and Alex Eala during their corker in Hong Kong. // Getty
Vicky Mboko and Alex Eala during their corker in Hong Kong. // Getty
Just like many professional tennis players, I don’t care all that much about the end of season, but I do love a good narrative coda. Victoria Mboko and Alex Eala were two of the WTA’s youngest and most thrilling breakout players in 2025, and on Thursday they battled in Hong Kong for the right to prolong that season just a little longer. Although Mboko, 19, and Eala, 20, are longtime friends who “get bubble tea together,” as the eventual victor explained after the match, they had never played each other at the pro level. At least they started this potential rivalry with a genuine classic.
Both players had similar triumphs this season, breaking out at 1000-level tournaments. They’d entered as wild cards with little experience and left them as known entities. Eala went first. In Miami, the then 19-year-old reached the semifinals by clearing three former Slam champs: Jelena Ostapenko, Madison Keys, and, notably, Iga Swiatek, who just two years prior had been the guest speaker at Eala’s graduation from the Rafa Nadal Academy. Most remarkable was the fact that the lefty Eala was beating all these players in spite of her rather vulnerable serve, all on the strength of her ground strokes, struck hard from right on top of the baseline. She nearly beat Jessica Pegula in the semifinals, too. That was the high point of the season—it’d be a high point of many careers—but Eala also went on to pick up a WTA 250 runner-up trophy in Eastbourne and a WTA 125 title in Guadalajara, and, at the US Open, she became the first player from the Philippines ever to win a main-draw match at the majors.
For Mboko, there had been some sparks beforehand. A three-setter in Rome against Coco Gauff raised many eyebrows, mine included. But it all came together all at once, in Montreal, in front of the Canadian home crowds. Like her friend, she also dismissed a horde of Slam champs: Sofia Kenin, Coco Gauff, Elena Rybakina, and Naomi Osaka. But unlike Eala, Mboko won the whole title, then just 18 years old. Her tennis was mysteriously well-rounded, blending power, counterpunching, and great hands, but I mainly remember this title as one of the most startling examples of mental fortitude I’d seen in a young player. So many comeback wins, and so many cases where she looked like the more poised one in the face of opponents years older and more accomplished. Incredibly, her Montreal win meant she’d be seeded at the upcoming US Open, despite starting the season outside the top 300. She seemed like a new fixture on tour. In reality, these things are always more complicated. She went on to lose four consecutive first-round matches after her title.
But by the time they met at the WTA 250 in Hong Kong on Thursday, Mboko had stabilized again. Heading into the match, she was ranked No. 21 to Eala’s No. 51. By the time they’d split sets, they looked dead even, and the rally level was getting a little absurd.
My working theory is that the most thrilling tennis matches involve future stars whose serves are still quite dubious. No service hold is taken for granted. And you have no idea what shot they might opt for next, because their ambitions sometimes outpace their present abilities. That roughly describes the back half of this match. There were five breaks of serve in the deciding set. First Eala moved ahead. Once her legs tired, she closed down the net to finish points and excelled there, seizing a 4–1 lead. The Hong Kong crowd thrummed for her. But Mboko, the comeback artist, won every remaining game in the match. Returning at 4–4, 40–30, she clocked a backhand return winner right off the baseline, and that was the last time her victory was ever in question. Mboko won, 3–6, 6–3, 6–4, and the two hugged, with unusual joy. It was a match fought with genuine energy and minimal cynicism between two players who did not seem to accept the notion that October was a time for coasting and burnout, and instead saw their entire careers unfurling ahead of them. Pretty decent recipe for tennis, as it turns out.
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Killer of Giants
Killer of Giants
Killer of Giants
Learner Tien goes to the head of the class.
Learner Tien goes to the head of the class.
By Giri Nathan
October 3, 2025
After capturing a plate in Beijing, Learner Tien has an appetite for more. // Getty
After capturing a plate in Beijing, Learner Tien has an appetite for more. // Getty
As he winds down his rookie season, the 19-year-old Learner Tien has compiled an intriguing résumé. What you see in Tien depends on which frame you choose. Start broad, then zoom in, and things get weirder as you go. When playing against all top 50 players this year, Tien is 9–14. Nothing earth-shattering, but very respectable for a teenager making the leap from the Challengers to the ATP level. What if we filter those results more? When playing against top 20 players this year, Tien’s record is 6–5. And then what if we limit to just those opponents ranked in the top 10? A blistering 5–3 record. This kid from Irvine, Calif., has accumulated more top 10 wins this season than anyone besides Carlos Alcaraz or Jannik Sinner. While Tien’s still working on week-to-week consistency against the tour’s rank and file, he seems to relish every chance to play against the very best players alive. And he’s beating them with one of the most oddly satisfying play styles you’ll see—a mix of sweet feel, sharp angles, lefty guile, and cool temperament.
This week in Beijing, Tien became the third-youngest ATP finalist of the season, behind fellow teen phenoms Jakub Mensik and Joao Fonseca, but on the right day he looks like he has more potential than either of those more-hyped peers. Bolstering his rep as a giant-killer, Tien moved through a brutal draw to get to the final of this 500 event: Francisco Cerundolo, Flavio Cobolli, Lorenzo Musetti, and Daniil Medvedev, though admittedly those last two opponents withdrew from third sets with injury, after Tien had already twisted the match in his favor. By the time Tien finished the championship match, he had gained membership in one of the fastest-growing tennis clubs in the world: people who have been mauled in straight sets by Jannik Sinner on a hard court. But everything that led up to that match was tremendously promising for Tien, who has just moved inside the top 40 and who, just a few weeks ago, hired as coach the greatest-ever Asian-American tennis player from Southern California: Michael Chang.
Just as it went with his coach, Tien’s stature is a common source of skepticism. At 5 foot 11 he lacks the long levers seen in most players at the top of the contemporary game. But the way that Tien is sometimes described, you’d think he was a modern-day Gilles Simon, massaging the ball around the court and playing a purely attritional game. Tien does relish the occasional long rally, but Simon is not at all what I see in him. He doesn’t have the face-melting, point-ending power of Sincaraz—a quality that his fellow teen Fonseca does, in fact, possess—but Tien loads up his ground strokes with plenty of pace and spin. To my eye, he’s got much more pop on his shots than he did this time last year, which is not all that surprising, given that he’s still growing up. (One measure of his youth is the fact that he has said he grew up watching Alcaraz, a quote that instantly reduced me to a heap of dust.)
What I’m most struck by is how mature his baseline game already is. He perturbs opponents of the highest caliber. Tien’s open-stance forehand I find impossible to read, and he seems so nonchalant when changing the direction of a rally. He opens up surprising angles early and often. Whenever he finds an opening, he ends points at the net with soft hands, which might portend a future that’s more all-court than counterpuncher. Perhaps these skills don’t inspire as much buzz as the quantifiable, raw power of Fonseca’s ball-striking, but it works all the same. (Right now, it’s actually working better; Tien just moved past Fonseca in the rankings.) It’s a savvy, supple baseline game that holds up well against big hitters—with Sinner the obvious and understandable exception. A year from now, I bet I’ll be favoring Tien over most opponents when caught in a neutral rally on a hard court. For evidence, just talk to Sascha Zverev, Daniil Medvedev, and Andrey Rublev, all of whom have lost to the new kid this season. (And if you do talk to them, you will hear Medvedev’s outstanding pronunciation of Le-ARN-er, which he has rendered somehow Italian.)
But it’s difficult to claw into the top 10 while needing to win every point from that neutral rally. Cheap and easy points make ATP life much more pleasant. As impressive as Tien’s ground strokes are, his serve is not yet doing him many favors. Often he’s spinning the ball in to get the point started. His coach is aware of this central deficit in Tien’s game and has said that they’re working on it. I recently asked the analyst Gill Gross about some great recent servers who are under six feet tall. It’s not the easiest list to populate, but we agreed that Mattia Bellucci, the 24-year-old Italian, is one intriguing outlier who can crack 130 mph despite standing just 5 foot 9. Tien, who already hits his spots quite well, has room for technical improvements on his serve that could squeeze out some more mph, according to Gross. It’s a testament to Tien’s skill as a returner and baseliner that he’s gotten this far on tour with his current delivery. He’s on the cusp of getting seeded at the Slams. Even a perfectly average serve would take him up another notch again. Leave it to Chang and his new protégé to prove that modest height is no death sentence in this sport.
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Postcard from Tokyo
Postcard from Tokyo
Postcard from Tokyo
Moody vibes under Tokyo skies as Carlos Alcaraz electrifies passionate tennis fans at the Japan Open.
Moody vibes under Tokyo skies as Carlos Alcaraz electrifies passionate tennis fans at the Japan Open.
Photography by David Bartholow
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Finish Line
Finish Line
Finish Line
Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz vie for the year-end ranking of No. 1 in the world.
Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz vie for the year-end ranking of No. 1 in the world.
By Simon Cambers
September 23, 2025
Jannik Sinner celebrates a victory, and a year-end No. 1 ranking inTurin last year. // Getty
Jannik Sinner celebrates a victory, and a year-end No. 1 ranking inTurin last year. // Getty
Roger Federer used to begin every year with two main goals: to win his beloved Wimbledon and to finish the year ranked world No 1. Lofty goals for most, realistic aims for a man who ended up winning Wimbledon eight times, second only to Martina Navratilova, and who topped the year-end rankings five times.
Until the establishment of the ATP rankings in August 1973, the world rankings were an informal affair, decided by national associations, Tours, and—it hardly seems possible to imagine now—a small group of revered journalists. Not the most objective of arrangements.
While the old system was a constant source of argument, the new rankings held immediate credibility and prestige, providing players with a new goal that really meant something. Finishing the year ranked No. 1 was indisputable proof of who was the best player of that year. Ilie Nastase was the first man to earn the honor, in 1973, and only 18 other men have ever managed it, an elite band.
The race to end the year on top has seen many players make superhuman efforts, crisscrossing the world in the chase, knowing that their place in history would be assured if they could be No. 1 when the year ended. Take Pete Sampras. The American finished as world No. 1 for six straight years in the 1990s, an all the more remarkable statistic when you remember that he picked up very few points on clay. In 1998, he was so desperate to finish No. 1 for the sixth year in a row that he played six events between the U.S. Open and the season-ending ATP World Championships, as it was called then, edging out Marcelo Rios, the talented Chilean, to stay top dog.
“To get to No. 1 is one thing; but to stay there is another thing,” Sampras said at the time, having clinched the year-end ranking at the ATP World Championships in Hanover when Rios, exhausted and injured, pulled out before his first match. “It’s twice as hard. To have stayed on top for most of my career is a little overwhelming. You see many players in the past have not handled the pressure or not enjoyed it. I’m very comfortable being No. 1, and that helps.”
Novak Djokovic holds the record for the most years at No. 1 overall, with eight, but no one has come close to matching Sampras’ run of six on the bounce. I remember how physically and emotionally tired he was when he first chatted to the media in Hanover in 1998—the first time I covered the season-ending event myself—but the effort was worth it as he set a record that he feels may never be broken.
Andy Murray followed Sampras’ example when he ended the year ranked No. 1—for the first and only time—in 2016, winning five titles in a row to pip Djokovic for the honor, sealing the deal when he beat him in the final. Murray’s hip gave out midway through the following year, but even now he will say that finishing No. 1 meant everything. John McEnroe, who managed it four times, always said it was validation of a whole year’s results, showing, without doubt, who was the best.
In this era of instant gratification, it’s somehow reassuring that today’s top players also see ending the year at No. 1 as something worth the effort. Carlos Alcaraz’s victory over Jannik Sinner in the U.S. Open final gave him a commanding lead over the Italian going into the Asian swing of events, but there is still some work to be done if he is to become just the 11th man to finish a year at No. 1 more than once, having done so for the first time in 2022, after his breakthrough Slam win in New York.
It would be no surprise, though, should Sinner end the season on a charge. The fact that the ATP Finals are again held on home soil in Turin this year is an obvious incentive for him to finish the year strong, and the 24-year-old, who took his Grand Slam tally to four in 2025 thanks to wins in Melbourne and at Wimbledon, remembers the “special feeling” he experienced when finishing No. 1 for the first time at the end of 2024.
Providing Alcaraz stays healthy, it will take a herculean effort for Sinner to overhaul the almost 2,600-point lead the Spaniard had in the ATP Race—the calendar-year standings—going into this week’s events (Sinner is in Beijing, while Alcaraz is in Tokyo).
But Sinner showed last year just how good he is indoors, winning in Shanghai and then going unbeaten as he won the ATP Finals in Turin, picking up a combined 2,500 points in the process. Alcaraz won in Beijing last year—beating Sinner in the final—but if the Italian can cut the lead by winning again in Shanghai the following week, then anything’s possible.
Neither man is currently scheduled to play between then and the last Masters 1000 event of the year, the Rolex Paris Masters at the end of October, although even that could change if one or the other man feels he needs to add an event to chase more points.
Both players won two Slams apiece in 2025, and both are clearly showing signs of fatigue, but the lure of year-end No. 1 keeps them going. What happens in the Asian swing is likely to decide who ends up on top.