Postcard from Monte Carlo
Postcard from
Monte Carlo
Postcard from Monte Carlo
Paris-based photographer Guillaume Tranchard sends a dispatch from the Rolex Monte-Carlo Masters.
Paris-based photographer Guillaume Tranchard sends a dispatch from the Rolex Monte-Carlo Masters.
Photography by Guillaume Tranchard
April 10, 2025

































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The Standard-Bearer
The Standard-Bearer
The Standard-Bearer
One-on-one with Maria Sakkari.
One-on-one with Maria Sakkari.
By Ben Rothenberg
April 4, 2025

Maria Sakkari during the 2024 Paris Olympics, where she was initially intended to be a flag bearer. // Getty

Maria Sakkari during the 2024 Paris Olympics, where she was initially intended to be a flag bearer. // Getty
Maria Sakkari of Greece had been a post-pandemic fixture of the WTA top 10, with fewer highs and lows than her peers in a transitional era for women’s tennis. Sakkari stayed in that top echelon from late 2021 until the 2024 U.S. Open, peaking at No. 3—and nearly reaching No. 1 when Ash Barty suddenly retired in spring 2022. Though she was one of the world’s best and Greece’s best ever, she also drew constant critiques for not winning more titles or ever reaching a major final.
Sakkari’s run in the top 10 ended when she succumbed to a season-ending shoulder injury. Though she resumed playing this year, her ranking has been falling quickly. She arrived at this week’s Charleston Open ranked 64th; after a second round loss to eighth-ranked Zheng Qinwen, she will fall out of the Top 80.
Sakkari, 29, now lives in Washington, D.C., where her boyfriend, Konstantinos Mitsotakis, is in grad school. He is the son of Greece’s prime minister, Kyriakos Mitsotakis, which has garnered a new sort of attention on Sakkari since their relationship began in 2020. That relationship, she says, cost her the dream of a lifetime last summer, when she was selected to be the female Greek flag bearer for the opening ceremony of the 2024 Paris Olympics, only to have the honor revoked soon after, a shock that sent her spiraling and led to the shoulder injury that kept her out of the end of last season.
After chatting about their respective neighborhoods, Sakkari sat down to discuss all this and more with fellow Washingtonian Ben Rothenberg for The Second Serve:
We can talk a little bit more about D.C. later, but how are you doing? I haven’t seen you in a while. Physically, mentally, tennis-wise, how are you feeling?
I mean, obviously, I’ve been in a better place. But I’m happy that I’m healthy; that’s the most important thing. It took a few years for me to get injured. I got my first injury at 29. So that’s partially a good thing, but on the other hand, it was tough to just accept things after coming back from an injury.
My ranking obviously has dropped; I need to get it back to where it was. Not just because I want to be a top 10 tennis player again, but also I’ve been getting bad draws because I’m not seeded. I’m not high enough to avoid those players in early rounds. But at the same time, if you want to go deep into a tournament, you’ll have to beat those players no matter what round it is.
So it’s been tough. But at the same time, it was also very nice to take some time off. You know how hectic it is. Just to live a normal life and not travel every week—it was amazing. Obviously, my tennis going into the season wasn’t great. I had high hopes, but I realized pretty soon that it’s going to take time.
So I’ve been feeling very well the last few weeks, if I have to be honest with you. So I think it’s going to come. It’s just going to take a little bit more time. But I’m positive. I’m healthy. I’m feeling good. Happy. So that’s the most important thing.
You started by saying you were in a good place before. How tough is it to separate your mood and your self-confidence from your ranking? Especially because you spent so long in the top 10, very consistently, so now to see this bigger number next to your name—do you have to say, “That’s not real, I can’t worry about that too much”? It’s a challenge, I’d guess, to balance wanting to be realistic with also not wanting to be too negative or pessimistic and down on yourself.
Well, I think you go through both phases, I have to be honest. You go through that phase when you see the draws and you see that big number next to your name. But then again, you think of how so many good players have been there, so many players who have had a lot more injuries and had to do that again and again.
Like I spoke to Paula [Badosa] a couple of times earlier this year, and she was like, “Maria, what did you think, that you’re just going to come back and play like you played before?” So talking to players that have had similar situations—or worse—has given me a lot of hope.
Because I feel like, okay, I’m doing the right things. It’s not like I’m not practicing or I’m not eating well or I’m not recovering. I’m doing all the right things. I believe it’s going to come. And if it says 50, 60, 80 next to my name, it’s fine. I just have to accept it.
You’ve had such a great career. I’m wondering what you’re most proud of that you’ve done…
Hmmm. Well, obviously getting to world No. 3 was huge. And playing that final in Indian Wells, I think…the winner was, because Ash Barty…
The winner would be No. 2, and then No. 1 Barty was about to retire.
Exactly.
I was thinking about that moment today because I knew I was going to talk to you. If you’d won, I don’t know if it was automatic, because Barty was still in the rankings in Miami, so it would’ve still required a result in Miami. And then Swiatek wound up winning Miami. But who knows if something different would have happened if it had been different in Indian Wells? We don’t know.
Yes. So putting myself in that situation just made me realize how good I’ve done in my career, and the consistency. Of course, even though I’ve had some ups and downs in my last three seasons, just managing to finish up there, I think, was huge. Because you see how good tennis is nowadays: Those first rounds are so tough.
So now I see how tough it is to get back to the top 10. Now I realize how good I’d been playing all those years just to stay there.
I think a lot of times people—certainly fans or media—sometimes do focus on what players haven’t done.
Of course.
Do you have that same sort of thing in your mind sometimes? Where you think, “Oh my gosh, I haven’t…”
…won a Slam.
Won a Slam. Instead of being like, “Wow, I was in the top 10 for three years,” something like that.
I think my time off really helped me realize that. Obviously, when you’re on a roll and you just go week after week, you tend to forget. You just want more, and you just don’t have the time to just get out of that situation, that movie you’re in, and just see the real picture.
So I was just being home, being with my friends, being with my boyfriend, with my family for a good amount of time—just being outside. You know, I wasn’t jealous of the other girls playing because I was happy where I was. I was happy that I was able to have that time off that I was looking for the last few years.
You had made all sorts of history for Greek tennis, you and Stefanos [Tsitsipas] coming up, parallel, together. Is that something you’re still proud of, what you two were able to achieve? Because before, you…
Yeah. [Rubs arm] I mean, you say it, and it gives me goose bumps.
Because it really wasn’t, before you two—your mom [Angeliki Kanellopoulou, former WTA No. 43] obviously was a good player too, but it wasn’t that level that both of you had at the same time.
Exactly. I think it was huge. Going into that first [2023] United Cup, being the highest seed because we were both No. 3 in the world. I mean, I really hope people back in Greece realize [the significance of] that, because it’s huge.
When you’re competing against countries like the U.S. or France or Germany, they’re big, they have big tennis history. And I’m just very proud of both of us, because tennis is now probably the third most popular sport in Greece, behind basketball and soccer. It’s big. I see that everyone plays tennis, everyone watches tennis, and I’m very proud of the work that we’ve done.
I was reading an article about you from Indian Wells about the Olympics and the opening ceremony and what happened there.
Oh yeah.
You were saying that that was something that you felt led to the stress that caused your injury. How much is that something that you’re still thinking about or disappointed about? Seems like it was a clear negative inflection moment in your career—not to bring up all the negative stuff.
No, no, no, of course. No, it’s fine, and I’m actually glad that you’re asking me, because it’s also very important for me to talk about it. In Indian Wells was the first time I really opened up about it.
People around the world have different kinds of problems, and that probably to someone is, like, nothing. But to me, I’m a very proud Greek. So when I was growing up, being the flag bearer for my country was my No. 1 dream. So when I got the call that I was going to be next to Giannis [Antetokounmpo], I was like, “Wow, this is the biggest thing that has ever happened in my career.”
And then everything got ruined because of my relationship, for political reasons. That really hurt me because I think every athlete deserves to be a flag bearer. Like going into the Olympics, everyone deserves it the same. I just felt like it wasn’t because I’m not a good tennis player, it was because some people didn’t want to support me because of who I’m dating. And to be honest, I have the best boyfriend in the world. I’m so happy he’s part of my life, and I wouldn’t change him, no matter what—I don’t care. He has been a very important person in my life and in my career.
So it was tough. I think my injury really—okay, it was overuse, physically. And also mentally, I was just broken. I just couldn’t take it. I was miserable in Paris. I just hated every minute of it. And you’re supposed to be in the biggest celebration of the sports and you’re just there, miserable. I just couldn’t. Yeah, it was tough.
Did you ever talk to or get any explanation from the Greek Olympic Committee?
Not really. And if I’m honest, I don’t want to. The previous president that called me and actually told me that I was selected, we’re still in touch. He really supports me. And I knew a lot of people that were really supportive in this. Obviously, I know why I was withdrawn last minute: There was a vote against me—which has never, ever happened in the history before.
And it’s not like you had some scandal or something that you did.
No, no. And I feel like politics has to stay out of sports. There’s [athletes] voting for this party or the other one—it doesn’t [matter] because they’re representing the country, no matter what their beliefs are.
So it was tough. And I’ll be honest, it was very tough for everyone around me and my family. I think it still hurts me a lot, but we’ll see. I will see about Los Angeles, but I will have to play really, really well in order to get a chance again to get the flag. It’s not going to be easy, for sure.
What has it been like being in this new world through your boyfriend, this political world? That’s a whole different space and part of the culture than I’d guess you’ve been in before. What have you made of this new world that you see through your connection to him?
We’re not so involved. He also tries to leave me outside of this world, which I really appreciate. But obviously I know—and I want to be aware of—what happens in the world. Not only in Greece, but being a tennis player, I don’t want to be limited on my knowledge.
And I’m supported by his family and everyone; they’re amazing people. They love me so much, and I love them, too. I see them as his parents. I don’t see his dad as the prime minister; I see him as his dad. And I see how nice they’ve been to me and how kind. And that’s all I keep for myself; nothing else, nothing more. But it’s fascinating, because he’s at the [Georgetown University] Foreign Service School, so it’s also nice to have someone that is not in tennis in your life, trust me. So I’m very happy with where I am in my personal life, and I’m just very proud of the work he’s putting in.
Did I see you two went to an Inaugural Ball? What was that like?
Yeah, we went because we had to represent his family. I had to go as his plus-one, obviously. No matter what you vote for or what you believe, it was for me—as a Greek person that has no place there, in a way—it was a nice experience no matter who the president is. Because I don’t feel like I will be given that chance again. I was there. I feel like it’s a [once-in-a-]lifetime experience.
As I said, no matter who you vote for, I just feel it happens once in your life. And life is all about experiences, and it doesn’t really matter where you stand.
When people are talking about you in this new political context, how do you keep your peace and your sanity and block out the noise? It can be very noisy around you sometimes for someone who doesn’t seem like they’re really asking for a lot of attention or controversy directly.
The thing is that because I’ve been with my boyfriend for a while, I feel like in Greece—because it’s mainly in Greece, let’s be honest; fans abroad don’t care who I’m dating—in the beginning there was noise behind it, but nowadays I feel we’ve been together for so long, so people don’t comment about it.
But it’s fine. I’m okay with some people not liking me because they support another party; not that it should be that way, but I don’t really care, to be honest. As I told you, I’m just happy with the person I am. And he makes me happy, and I make him happy.
And then on the tennis side, too, when people are saying, “She should win more, she’s overrated,” or whatever people say. How do you block that out?
You know, people are always going to say something. Like, even if I get back to top 5, they’re going to say, “Okay, yes, but she doesn’t have a Grand Slam.” Or “She’s never made it past the semifinal of a Grand Slam.” And even if you do win a Grand Slam, they’re going to say, “Yeah, but she [hasn’t won] a Grand Slam on grass court” or something.
You know this because you follow media all the time. If someone wants to say something, they’re always going to. Like, there’s negative comments about Djokovic. Like, what else does this guy have to prove? It’s just the world we live in right now.
So we have to accept it, and just keep going.

Sakkari at Indian Wells in March. // David Bartholow

Sakkari at Indian Wells in March. // David Bartholow

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The Wonder
The Wonder
The Wonder
Emma Raducanu is putting it together.
Emma Raducanu is putting it together.
By Ben Rothenberg
March 28, 2025

Eyes on the prize. // Getty

Eyes on the prize. // Getty
Three women notched their first career hard-court win over a top 10 opponent at this month’s Miami Open.
Ashlyn Krueger, a steadily rising 20-year-old Texan who recently reached the top 40, beat No. 8 Elena Rybakina; Alexandra Eala, a 19-year-old Filipina wild card ranked 140th who has been the breakout star of the event, knocked off both Australian Open champion No. 5 Madison Keys and No. 2 Iga Swiatek en route to the semifinals.
The third name is the most surprising inclusion on the list: Emma Raducanu, who eked out a win in a third-set tiebreak over No. 10 Emma Navarro—and whom most would have probably assumed would have checked that box years ago.
Little in Raducanu’s career has made logical sense, though. The milestone win over Navarro came nearly four years after Raducanu won a star-making title on the hard courts of the U.S. Open in the most improbable fashion—coming through the qualifying draw and then the main draw without dropping a single set.
It was a triumphant moment—with a sense of exultation multiplied by that 2021 U.S. Open being the first tournament played without significant pandemic precautions—and the 150th-ranked 18-year-old shot to superstar status in Britain and beyond.
Raducanu’s run proved that there aren’t strict prerequisites to being a tennis superstar. It wasn’t until a few weeks after her breakthrough in New York that she played a three-set match at tour level for the first time in a small tournament in Romania. Who wins a Grand Slam title before playing a third set?
These sorts of out-of-order moments have continued for her. When Raducanu beat Sloane Stephens in the first round of the next major, the 2022 Australian Open, it was her first time beating—or even facing—a fellow major champion.
In her post-match press conference that night, Stephens accurately pointed out how Raducanu’s reality had been so much more intense than her own because of the British multiplier on hype: “We [both] won the U.S. Open, but our situations are very different; I think she is carrying a whole country.”
The scale of attention was indeed nothing like Stephens—nor any other recent champion—had received. Perhaps most surreally, Raducanu’s name was postmarked onto all mail sent in the United Kingdom for a period after her win.
Stephens said that Raducanu’s trajectory had been “very backwards” and that she would have “a lot to learn.”
“I mean, she hasn’t been through much of anything yet, so there will definitely be some ups and downs and some crazy experiences that happen throughout her years,” Stephens said. “I think this is only the beginning…. I was talking to someone in the locker room and I’m like, ‘We’ll be here when she comes down.’ Not [just] Emma, but in general, it’s all a cycle. I think learning how to deal with it early on is the best way to handle it.”
But Raducanu didn’t seem to learn how to deal with it early on, and so her breakthrough moment didn’t create momentum. Some of the setbacks were clear unforced errors by herself and her management: Most clearly, after they had won the U.S. Open together, Raducanu chose not to retain her coach Andrew Richardson, the first churn in what would become a constant carousel of coaching changes.
But other hardships weren’t self-inflicted. Within months of the U.S. Open, Raducanu had attracted her first stalker—tragically a perennial peril in women’s tennis—a 35-year-old man who had come to her house multiple times in late 2021, once stealing a sneaker off her porch as a souvenir and another time decorating a tree outside the family’s home.
That aberrant behavior was an extreme example of a general obsession over Raducanu that had taken hold in Britain—particularly in their tennis media, which breathlessly documented her every move, even if no one was ever actually asking for that. One of the least popular articles I ever wrote was a freelance piece I picked up for The Telegraph at the 2022 Italian Open; their normal correspondent wasn’t going to be there for Raducanu’s pretournament media conference, their frantic editor explained to me over the phone, but they couldn’t possibly afford to miss covering the occasion. Naomi Osaka, whom I was shadowing that season for the biography of her I was writing, had withdrawn from the tournament, so I accepted the assignment. Raducanu said nothing interesting whatsoever in her press conference—which was down to the unremarkableness of the occasion more than herself. But because it was about Raducanu, The Telegraph promoted the article prominently. Readers in the comment section did not hide their exasperation at the oversaturation of Raducanu coverage at the detriment of broader tennis coverage in the paper, with several complaining that they’d much rather be reading about the recent star turn of Carlos Alcaraz.
The British press was covering every granule of what was ultimately an unspectacular sophomore season for Raducanu. There were a couple highlights—she managed to bagel Serena Williams and Victoria Azarenka in back-to-back matches in Cincinnati—but Raducanu didn’t make it past the second round at any of that year’s majors. Her loss in the first round of her U.S. Open title defense knocked her well back outside of the top 50.
Raducanu spent the next few years unable to stay injury-free and unable to keep a steady coach. Raducanu, whose sponsor portfolio has remained lucrative despite her mediocre results, often inspires eye rolls in tennis circles, particularly for traits such as her refusal to ever deign to play a qualifying draw no matter how her ranking had plummeted, only competing in events that will give her a wild card into the main draw. But she also sometimes inspires sympathy, such as when a new stalker began following her at tournaments ranging from Singapore to the Middle East earlier this year, triggering Raducanu due to her past brushes with fixated fans.
After hiring the strength coach Yutaka Nakamura for this season—who had previously worked with Maria Sharapova and Naomi Osaka—the 22-year-old Raducanu is finally starting to look sturdier. During her quarterfinal loss to fourth-ranked Jessica Pegula in Miami, Lindsay Davenport earnestly praised Raducanu’s improved fitness on Tennis Channel, saying that it was “a fantastic sign that her body can hold up” through five matches. It was the first time Raducanu had played that many singles matches at one tournament since the 2021 U.S. Open, after all, and it was enough to put her back into the top 50 for the first time since the ranking points from that win had expired.
Jim Courier, Davenport’s co-commentator, agreed and said that Raducanu was proving she wasn’t as weak as believed. “There probably is a little bit of a thought that she might not be the toughest out there on the court,” Courier said. “She’s showing some toughness out here tonight. That, I think, is important as well.”
“To get the locker room, the street cred?” Davenport asked.
“Also for herself, in order to build up her own belief that she can overcome these physical obstacles that all players will face,” Courier replied. “Some players are just built to withstand them at a higher level than others; that’s part of the human condition. We’re not all alike.”
When everything is going right for her, Raducanu is unlike the others in a good way: She can seem to have the ball on a string like few others in tennis, with pinpoint precision that can pop easy winners past any opponent. But that upside proves double-edged and contributes to her perfectionism—and a propensity to panic when things aren’t going her way.
Raducanu’s most recent spin of the coaching carousel was a quick one, lasting just a couple weeks with the no-nonsense veteran coach Vlado Platenik. By some counts, he was Raducanu’s eighth different coach since her U.S. Open win.
When I spoke to Platenik this week, he said he saw significant progress from Raducanu in their limited time together earlier this month. “I really didn’t before have a player improve that much in such a short time,” he said. “She’s definitely smart and talented, but I also understand the pressure from outside that she’s getting.”
Platenik said that he appreciated the unique attention Raducanu receives after his phone began buzzing with British reporters once they started working together. But he said he was also struck by how deeply Raducanu feels every up and down along her closely watched ride. That sensitivity, Platenik believes, is because of how earnestly Raducanu wants to prove—to herself and to the world—that she can be more than the sport’s ultimate one-hit wonder.
“I honestly thought that after a few years of being in this circus, she will be a little bit more resilient to this pressure,” Platenik said of Raducanu. “But I was wrong, because she really takes it very, very serious. I think she reallllly wants it. She’s not just saying that she wants to win; she wants to do it.”


The Hopper
—CLAY Tennis on Beatriz Haddad Maia’s US Open run.
—Giri on Iga Swiatek’s loss to Jess Pegula.
—Jon Wertheim’s mailbag is full this week.
—Sara Errani and Andrea Vavasori have won the US Open mixed doubles.
—Tim Newcomb on Taylor Fritz and Asics.

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Postcard from Tennis Paradise
Postcard from Tennis Paradise
Postcard from Tennis Paradise
Our annual exploration of the BNP Paribas Open in film.
Our annual exploration of the BNP Paribas Open in film.
Photography by David Bartholow
March 21, 2025


A desert vortex, a desert daze, a sun-soaked memory that arrives as quickly as the tournament fades. Relive the 2025 BNP Paribas Open in film, and dream of next year.


SPECIAL THANKS TO MATT VAN TUINEN
YOUR WEEK IN TENNIS — SIGN UP FOR THE SECOND SERVE NEWSLETTER
Wilson and LVBL Win Big at Mission Hills
Wilson and LVBL Win Big at Mission Hills
Wilson and LVBL Win Big at Mission Hills
Players of all levels came together for a special competition in the desert sun.
Players of all levels came together for a special competition in the desert sun.
By TSS
March 19, 2025


For the second year running, Wilson and LVBL took over the iconic Mission Hills Country Club—the original site of the Indian Wells Masters—and delivered a gem of a tournament in their unique “LVBL” format. The day offered a prime glimpse into the growth of the game and the culture surrounding it, with a Southern California twist. Sold out and packed with spectators, all levels of tennis were on display, and participants could either have a relaxed good time socializing on court, or feverishly compete for a place in the finals against elite players. Refreshments, sunshine, sponsor prizes and gifts from the likes of Wilson, Brain Dead, Lalo Tequila, Vacation sunscreen, OPEN Tennis magazine, and more were on offer. This special, sunkissed day—which has fast become an essential part of Indian Wells’ middle weekend—proved, once again, that tennis is fun and for everyone.
Check out all the action in the gallery below.



































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Clone Wars
Clone Wars
Clone Wars
In identical duds, Jack Draper vs. Holger Rune made for confusing viewing.
In identical duds, Jack Draper vs. Holger Rune made for confusing viewing.
By Ben Rothenberg
March 18, 2025

Double duds disaster at Indian Wells. // Getty

Double duds disaster at Indian Wells. // Getty
The thrilling women’s final Sunday at Indian Wells, in which 17-year-old Mirra Andreeva upset Aryna Sabalenka in a star-making thriller, was already going to be a tough act for the men to follow.
But when Jack Draper and Holger Rune walked onto the court next wearing the same blue-and-white Nike shirt and matching backwards white baseball caps, the deck was stacked even further against their match engaging audiences.
James Gray, a British tennis reporter at The i Paper who had been excited for Draper to have a breakthrough moment to propel him into national stardom, called the mirrored match “an incredible own goal.”
As pedants readily pointed out as complaints compiled, you could tell the two men apart with some concentrated focus: Draper was wearing darker shorts and red shoes; he also plays left-handed. But from the waist up, these two white guys in their early 20s looked identical and were indistinguishable at first glance from the high-mounted camera angle used to show rallies. It makes the match meaningfully tougher to follow without effort, and watching sports on television really shouldn’t require any effort on the viewer’s part. (The match, as it happened, was a 6–2, 6–2 rout for Draper in just 69 minutes.)
Showing up to a party wearing the same outfit as someone else is often seen as a mortifying mishap; in tennis, where a handful of apparel brands sponsor many of the top players, it’s often a contractual obligation to be on the biggest stage of your career in the same clothes as your adversary.
With Nike, Adidas, Asics, and Lacoste scooping up players in bulk, the odds of a coordinated clash are high.
The issue has been going on for decades. In her 2017 memoir Unstoppable, Maria Sharapova described the moment when she walked onto the court for her third round at Wimbledon in 2004 against Daniela Hantuchova, who was also sponsored by Nike:
“How’s this for motivation? When we met for the coin toss, I realized: Shit! We’re wearing the same dress! To my horror, Hantuchova and I were wearing the same Nike dress. It was not her fault, but I absolutely hated it, and I’d make sure it never happened again. How? When it came time to sign a new contract with Nike, they included a clause that said I will have an exclusive outfit at every tournament I play—no other girls can wear it, not if they’re sponsored by Nike. But the irritation I felt that night added a nice, useful edge to my game.”
17-year-old Sharapova won that match and then that entire Wimbledon tournament, and thus gained the clout to request bespoke, proprietary outfits from Nike from then on. Other top Nike stars like Serena Williams, Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, and Naomi Osaka have also gotten their own kits that stand out from the crowd.
But for the non-superstars in the cavalry who still want clothing contracts from top brands to supplement their incomes, being a matching mannequin is part of the deal. It can even happen to some highly ranked players. At the 2020 Australian Open, Dominic Thiem and Alexander Zverev were dressed in the same Adidas for a semifinal; they’d also both worn matching zebra shirts for a match four years earlier at the French Open.
Some players who could command clothing contracts choose to pick out their own clothes to avoid looking like the rest. After years in Adidas and Lacoste, Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova chose to start designing her own outfits this year. “It just feels like it’s mine, you know?” Pavlyuchenkova told me at the Australian Open this year. “And nobody else is wearing it.”
Fan favorite Hsieh Su-wei chooses to do her own shopping.
“I decide to buy my own clothes,” Hsieh told me earlier this year. “Because sometimes if you wear the same as other girl, people cannot recognize you.”

Who’s who in the 2017 Roland Garros final? // Getty

Who’s who in the 2017 Roland Garros final? // Getty
Hsieh’s doubles partner Jelena Ostapenko had the unusual distinction of playing a major final against a player in an identical outfit, when she wore a white-and-green Adidas outfit to beat Simona Halep in the same outfit in the 2017 French Open final.
“Maybe first rounds are fine, but in the final, you want to just be a little bit different from the others,” Ostapenko told me.
When I contacted her then sponsor before that 2017 final in Paris, Alexander Chan, head of product for Adidas, said that one of the goals for Adidas was to make clothing “that enhances their game yet allows them to focus wholly onto the current point and the task at hand.”
“Likewise, at this stage of the tournament—on the eve of one of the biggest matches of their life—we aren’t going to distract a player by asking them to change,” Chan added. “Plus, you can’t discount a certain element of superstition with a ‘lucky’ skirt or shirt that got them this far.”
Halep had switched to Nike by the next year, when she made it into another French Open final. She won that one despite some potentially triggering déjà vu: Her opponent Sloane Stephens was in the same teal Nike top as she was.
All these top apparel companies are fully capable of making multiple outfits per collection, or at the very least supplying every player with a distinct alternate outfit from a recent collection. But despite complaints from players, fans, and broadcasters, they haven’t done it; even when they do have multiple options, they aren’t mandating that opponents look distinct when they know a clash of clients is coming.
So if the clothing companies won’t intervene on their own, the solution is clear here: There ought to be a rule.
Conveniently, other racquet sports have already had look-alike laws on the books for years that tennis could directly copy, including methods for how to resolve which player is forced to change.
From the International Table Tennis Federation’s rule book:
Opposing players and pairs shall wear shirts that are of sufficiently different colours to enable them to be easily distinguished by spectators. Where opposing players or teams have a similar shirt and cannot agree which of them will change, the decision shall be made by the umpire by lot.
The Professional Squash Association’s rulebook makes clear that its similar rule denying doppelgangers is to make squash a better media product, and that failing to comply with that ambition has serious consequences.
“Both players shall be obliged to wear distinctly different coloured clothing. The higher seeded player will have first choice. This colour/style must be worn for the duration of the match. If a player has to change his/her top during a match he/she must make sure that they wear the same colour and style of shirt as they started the match. It is the responsibility of the players to comply with this rule. As the PSA is very serious about its media obligations, non-compliance of this rule will result in application of the PSA Code of Conduct.”
The various tennis governing bodies could each implement a similar rule with instant effect. Wimbledon, of course, already has its own rules mandating that players dress alike in white (which somehow is never as irksome as when matching outfits happen elsewhere). If Wimbledon can regulate regalia in the spirit of tradition and conformity, no reason the rest of tennis can’t do the opposite for even better reasons.


The Hopper
—CLAY Tennis on Beatriz Haddad Maia’s US Open run.
—Giri on Iga Swiatek’s loss to Jess Pegula.
—Jon Wertheim’s mailbag is full this week.
—Sara Errani and Andrea Vavasori have won the US Open mixed doubles.
—Tim Newcomb on Taylor Fritz and Asics.

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Desert Dropshot
Desert Dropshot
Desert Dropshot
Club Leftist Tennis’ Jackson Frons checks in with a scene report from Indian Wells.
Club Leftist Tennis’ Jackson Frons checks in with a scene report from Indian Wells.
By Jackson Frons // Club Leftist Tennis
March 14, 2025

Donna Vekic battles Madison Keys in tennis paradise. // David Bartholow

Donna Vekic battles Madison Keys in tennis paradise. // David Bartholow
On Monday afternoon at the BNP Paribas Open, as I roasted in the sun seated behind the Stadium 3 baseline, a group of boomer guys in my section spent an entire set trying to say “Botic van de Zandschulp” correctly. They never got close. Later, one of them speculated that an all-girl crew of ball kids was “DEI.”
Compared to them, I felt like a tennis genius. After Botic went down to Francisco Cerundolo, Hubert Hurkacz came out and opened his fourth-round match against Alex de Minaur by serving a bevy of unreturnable 140 mph bombs that painted lines. I thought to myself, “This guy will never get broken. He might even win the tournament.” However, over the next 90 minutes, Alex de Minaur bolted from corner to corner, absorbing blow after blow, until Hubie’s forehand disintegrated and de Minaur waltzed to the next round with a 6–4, 6–0 win. So much for my expertise.
So went my three days in the desert at Indian Wells. Just when I thought I understood what was going on, that I’d captured the vibe, my understanding got disturbed. Much like Stefanos Tsitsipas’ new racquet—a Babolat Pure Aero painted all black and stenciled as if it were a Wilson—things were not always as they seemed.
My initial impression of the crowds this year was that they were sparse, tepid, and didn’t know very much about tennis. Monday night, as Donna Vekic and Emma Navarro played a tightly contested first set on Stadium 2, the first-come-first-serve upper deck was packed (although quiet), while the box seats barely held enough people to form a USTA 3.5 team. Things filled up more later for the show put on by Gael Monfils and Grigor Dimitrov, but I’d hardly describe the environment as electric despite the often show-stopping action on court.
It wasn’t until the following evening, on a day elongated by rare desert rain, that people lost their shit. Due to the many delays, which, contrary to podcaster Craig Shapiro’s Instagram story advice to “pound it out at Porta Via,” I mostly spent wandering around, gazing up at the drizzle, Stadium 1 ushers stopped checking tickets and let fans from the nosebleeds fill the lower levels for the second half of the three-set clash between Arthur Fils and Marcos Giron, as well as the subsequent headliner: Daniil Medvedev vs. Tommy Paul.
Maybe it was that Americans were playing or the thrill of newly acquired incredible seats, but it seemed like dozens of people in the stadium suddenly believed they’d been hired on to the coaching teams of Paul and/or Giron (with a few thrown in for Fils, too). One of them, seated not far from me, continued bellowing increasingly desperate tactical advice after almost every point (“Big targets, Tommy!”) as the American No. 2 lost eight consecutive games to close out his exit from the tournament.

Stef questions his new hardware. // David Bartholow

Stef questions his new hardware. // David Bartholow
During my time in Tennis Paradise, I was also struck by the sanitized apoliticality of Indian Wells. While tennis generally reads as less American than our domestic major sports, whose pregame rituals usually include some type of Troop Salute, even the U.S. Open indulges a bit in nationalist impulses.
The Tennis Garden, by contrast, embraced a blank, timeless internationalism. Landscape aside, I felt like I wasn’t in California or America or any discernibly regional place. Instead, this was a nationless, godless land in which only commerce existed.
None of the many things you could buy—fashion, food, etc.—were particularly tethered to “the now.” Aside from a few fits in the Fila tent and a Detroit Pizza vendor, the Hip Tennis wave that seems inescapable just a couple hours away in L.A. was basically nowhere to be found here. It was all very pan-2000s pseudo-luxury, perhaps best exemplified by: a Nobu outpost, copious ads for the Motorola Razr, and (paradoxically considering the nominal apoliticality of it all) the Saudi PIF tent.
I decided to hit up the PIF tent because, unlike Nobu (and most things at Indian Wells), it was free. After being given a pair of complimentary pins (that I’m sorry to admit go incredibly hard), the kind staff told me how the PIF was sponsoring a ticket giveaway for the next day. All I needed to do was scan a QR code and log some play time on the digital game stations scattered around the tent. All of the games had a line, however, and I couldn’t figure out why the PIF was mandating them for the giveaway. They already harvested all the personal data they could possibly want from the sign-up. In the end, I declined.
Like many things at Indian Wells, the Saudi influence thought to blend in. It’s all good. All regular. All normal business, no different from La Roche-Posay or the Veroni charcuterie.
I had much more interest in the things that stuck out. The fans who really didn’t know ball. The aggressively bad graphic T-shirts promoting BNP Paribas. And, after all, the players.
I find watching live tennis magnifies weapons and weaknesses. The asymmetries of a player’s games that so often get blurred by the distance of a TV broadcast pop more when you’re in the building. The way Daniil Medvedev swallows space with his gangly movement. How Ben Shelton’s serve and forehand explode off the court, and that his focus dramatically ebbs and flows in a match. It’s even clearer how Madison Keys’ boundless power can dwarf even a fellow big hitter like Vekic. Or how Coco Gauff, despite her guile and grit, tries to avoid her erratic forehand on big points.
It’s stuff like that that makes seeing tennis live in any environment—be it a 1000-level event in Tennis Paradise or the qualifying rounds of Futures at a ramshackle club—an engrossing and gripping experience. No matter how much or little you know, there’s always a new nuance to spot, a new thing about the match to figure out.
The tennis, however, may not have been the most visually striking thing at Indian Wells. That honor, in my book, goes to the Dropshot, the neon green signature drink sold around the grounds and sponsored by the Station 29 Casino. Unlike its rival in New York, the much-hyped (but ultimately mid) Honey Deuce, the Dropshot looks in no way fit for human consumption.
When I finally worked up the courage to order one on Wednesday, my first question wasn’t “How much does this thing cost?” but “What is in this…” It turned out it was basically all pineapple, of various forms, and a shot of tequila. The green hue was pure food coloring.
As for the taste, I actually didn’t mind sipping my Dropshot from my seat on Stadium 1, the weather once again bright and sunny, the fragrant culinary exhaust wafting up from the concession stands toward the pale desert sky. That is, until I reached the grainy “pineapple salsa” at the bottom of the cup, which may have been the worst thing I’ve tasted in 2025. By this time, down on the court, wild card Belinda Bencic, looking to continue her Cinderella run, was serving up 5–4 in the third against Coco Gauff. Behind me, a member of a group of guys who loved saying “boom” in the middle of points remarked to no one in particular, “I’m pretty sure Coco needs to win this game. If she loses it, the match might end.”

Meddy's been in good spirits. // David Bartholow

Meddy's been in good spirits. // David Bartholow

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New Balance Debuts ‘Coco Delray’ Tennis Sneaker
New Balance Debuts ‘Coco Delray’ Tennis Sneaker
By Tim Newcomb
March 12, 2025

Images courtesy of New Balance

Images courtesy of New Balance
Not every fan of Coco Gauff is ready to pull off her signature high-performance New Balance Coco CG tennis sneaker. New Balance knows that. So, the Boston-based brand created the “Coco Delray,” a more inclusive addition to the New Balance world of Coco, offering a low-top model without all the bells and whistles found on the Coco CG line.
The new shoe, named after Gauff’s Delray Beach hometown and the courts she grew up playing on, is still court-ready, though, just in a more streamlined version. The carbon fiber shank of the CG gets replaced with TPU, but the outsole is the same and the shoe can hold up to the tennis court, all while being designed to make it more wearable off the court. The low-top upper is meant to fit the needs of more players but is still inspired by heritage basketball, as is the CG2 model.
Josh Wilder, New Balance footwear product manager for tennis, says the Coco Delray has a similar look to the CG and is still ready for tennis but offers “another way to bring more people into the fold” while being able to pull off a lifestyle aesthetic. Upcoming CG colorways will inform future iterations of the Delray. The Delray retails for $110 and releases today.
Follow Tim Newcomb’s tennis gear coverage on Instagram at Felt Alley Tennis.
SIGN UP — YOU'RE ONLY AS GOOD AS YOUR SECOND SERVE.


SIGN UP — YOU'RE ONLY AS GOOD AS YOUR SECOND SERVE.
Self-Portrait at Tennis Paradise
Self-Portrait at Tennis Paradise
Self-Portrait at Tennis Paradise
Indian Wells embodies Southern California escapism.
Indian Wells embodies Southern California escapism.
By Jackson Frons // Club Leftist Tennis
March 7, 2025

Coco Gauff and Elena Rybakina tune up at tennis paradise. // David Bartholow

Coco Gauff and Elena Rybakina tune up at tennis paradise. // David Bartholow
While the U.S. Open might be “the biggest stage in tennis,” New York isn’t exactly Tennis Town, USA. The best juniors and pros rarely (if ever) relocate to train at Billie Jean King, and for us mortals, even getting a court in the city during the winter months requires money, foresight, and/or a gratuitously long train ride. America’s tennis capitals lie elsewhere—in Florida and Southern California.
It’s fitting, then, that the regions host the dueling events that make up the Sunshine Double—the Miami Open and the BNP Paribas Open at the Indian Wells Tennis Garden, aka Tennis Paradise. Without undue offense to the “beautiful” South Florida parking lot, I think Indian Wells, as a venue, captures the strange spirit of Southern California far more completely than its East Coast counterpart evokes the Florida tennis scene.
The first time I went to Indian Wells was in 2008. The tournament, back then, was called the Pacific Life Open, and the Garden was less than a decade old. Ana Ivanovic bested Svetlana Kuznetsova in the women’s final, and Novak Djokovic, fresh off his maiden Australian Open title, took home the men’s crown wearing that hideously iconic Adidas shirt that was smeared with a digital S.
I was 13 then, and there with my friend Eitan and our moms. He and I had met a few years before this via remarkably ’00s Californian circumstances—playing ping-pong on a cruise to Alaska. It was only after arriving back at LAX that our families figured out we all lived in Encino and that Eitan and I were both tennis players. In fact, it turned out we went to private schools on the Mulholland strip that shared a fence. His father, an imposing former tank gunner in the IDF, used to stand on the balcony of their house, gazing down at their private court, bellowing at us in his thick Israeli accent as we hit, “Enough with the fancy shots, Eitan! Heet the ball in the quart!”
Southern California tennis, like Southern California itself, is an incongruous sprawl. There are the state-of-the-art complexes at UCLA and USC. The ritzy old money hangs like the Los Angeles Tennis Club, the Riviera, and Pasadena’s Valley Hunt Club. The private courts, like Eitan’s, that are innumerable in certain parts of town. The public parks and the high school facilities riddled with cracks and raggedy nets. The endless banks of courts in Orange County. Clubs carved into blank suburbia and soundtracked by freeway noise. The kinds of places with accompanying apartment complexes and golf courses with grass hydrated to an iridescent green. While Florida might be home to humid Har-Tru clay, what unites Southern California is that it’s hard-court country.
I grew up playing tennis here. Although I lived in the San Fernando Valley, the packed multi-weekend tournaments took me from the stadium courts at the Barnes Center in San Diego to the rickety municipal courts in Santa Barbara and nearly everywhere in between. I’ve played in Fullerton, Seal Beach, Whittier, Long Beach, Irvine, Northridge, Calabasas, Anaheim, Carson, Lakewood, the Jack Kramer Club, Coto de Caza, the desert, and too many other places to count.
Every tournament site stunk of sunscreen, and the “come on”s echoed to the parking lots. Heavy topspin was the de facto game, and it often seemed you could punch someone in the face without getting a code violation. The draws were diverse in level, race, and socioeconomic class. The matches were chaotic. The academy kids from Weil and Advantage came from all over the world. All, or at least many, of us harbored hopes (or delusions) that one day, if everything broke right, we might end up playing in front of the crowds in Tennis Paradise one day.
But what is Tennis Paradise? In the Southern Californian imagination, it’s a blustery, stoic tennis garden known (historically at least) for its comically slow courts that appears almost like a mirage. There’s great viewing. Minimal chain-link. Ideal weather (well, at least this time of year). Luxe digs. A Nobu outpost for the tournament. Those mountains. In a region where so many places look like other places, there’s nowhere else like Indian Wells. It’s easy to forget, walking under the shadow of Stadium 1, out amongst the outer courts, great tennis everywhere, that just beyond the parking lot lies a bland, dry landscape smoothed of history and full of blocks where the houses look similar and nearly every store is in a strip mall.
To play one’s best tennis, I’ve found, it behooves you to forget about anything nonessential. Dwelling on the macro issues—stuff like breakups, professional stresses, fires, droughts, or the rising tides of fascism—doesn’t really help you hit your forehand better or stay calm or play one point at a time. To be a truly great tennis player, I’ve often speculated, might require forgetting for a while that anything outside of tennis exists.
It’s possible that escapism is intrinsic to the Southern Californian spirit. This would be the time to insert some bullshit about Hollywood or Disneyland or the monotony of freeway driving. How this is a new country with a short memory, stuffed with recycled ideas. What I can say for certain is that for me, for better and worse, Indian Wells stands as a monument to not acknowledging tennis is ephemeral and ultimately not that big of a deal.
Tennis Paradise isn’t real life. It’s an elongation of that euphoric moment we all get sometimes watching or playing a match when your mind can hold only one thought at a time. When you cock your head to the ball and, for a single moment, the shot is everything.

A tennis oasis. // David Bartholow

A tennis oasis. // David Bartholow

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Nike’s Vapor 12 Hypersmash Basketball x Tennis Mash-up Is Here
Nike’s Vapor 12 Hypersmash Basketball x Tennis Mash-up Is Here
By Tim Newcomb
March 6, 2025

Images courtesy of Nike

Images courtesy of Nike
Nike didn’t waste time in giving the new Vapor 12 a distinct throwback theme, releasing the Vapor 12 Hypersmash ahead of Indian Wells. The shoe is a play on the Hyperdunk basketball shoe from 2008. Nike took the Vapor 12 technology and gave it a colorway to celebrate the “shared respect between hoopers and hard-court stars.” The design takes the popular 2008 Hyperdunk basketball colorway—even re-creating the key Flywire look on the upper with a haptic print on the Vapor 12—and tosses it atop the latest shoe from Nike’s Vapor line. Past Vapor X basketball inspirations include the 2019 Vapor X x Kyrie 5 design based on a signature basketball shoe from Kyrie Irving that was worn on court by Nick Kyrgios and the famed Vapor 9 x Jordan 3 mash-up worn by Roger Federer at the U.S. Open in 2017 (he had previously worn a similar design in 2014).
Follow Tim Newcomb’s tennis gear coverage on Instagram at Felt Alley Tennis.
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