High Voltage

High Voltage

High Voltage

Madison Keys plays the match of her life.

Madison Keys plays the match of her life.

By Giri Nathan
January 24, 2025

Madison Keys celebrates her win over Iga Swiatek on Thursday. // Getty

Madison Keys celebrates her win over Iga Swiatek on Thursday. // Getty

I can’t keep track of the number of times I felt convinced that Madison Keys was doomed.

Late in the third set of her Australian Open semifinal, she fell into a 0–40 hole in two different service games (and got broken once); she was down match point while returning serve at 5–6; she spent much of the decisive tiebreak trailing by a mini-break. And her opponent, Iga Swiatek, has never been one to flinch. In the five matches leading into this semifinal, Swiatek had lost an average of 1.4 games per set. She had been stamping out any signs of life; I’d mentally already written her into the final. Keys had managed to blitz her the second set, but the third set was looking far dicier.

Okay, if I’m keeping it real, keeping Melbourne hours is an imperfect art, and I was falling in and out of consciousness throughout the third set. I only watched the replay the next day after I already knew the result. So it was more a matter of how rather than if she won. And the how just kept eluding me. Watching the replay, I thought she would lose, even though I knew she had won. A Swiatek double fault there, a hard-won rally there—little hints of it. But the Keys win never felt plausible until I was watching them shake hands at the net.

Once the confusion faded and I looked back at the entirety of the 5–7, 6–1, 7–6(8) match, however, it was clear that this was the single best performance I’d ever witnessed from Keys. She’s a talented player who has nevertheless digested a lot of disappointment deep in these major tournaments. I attended her puzzling semifinal against Aryna Sabalenka in the 2023 U.S. Open, a match where she won the first set 6–0, served for the match in the second set, and even led by a break in the third set, but still lost. And last year there was pain at Wimbledon: a fourth-round match where she led Jasmine Paolini 5–2 in the third set, only to pick up an acute hamstring injury and retire in tears at 5–5.

This time, against Swiatek, there was no lapse, mental or physical. She barreled onward with signature Madison Keys tennis, which is powerful enough to leave even a defender like Swiatek flat-footed and hopeless. Until now I wasn’t sure that Keys could sustain her flat power against the best players in the world, under this much pressure, without spraying a few too many errors to survive. I watched rallies expecting the third or fourth ball to fly, but here she managed to keep that power under control.

Perhaps some of the credit for that control belongs to a bold offseason racquet change, a story laid out wonderfully by our friend Ben Rothenberg at Bounces. Keys had been playing with a Wilson racquet since she was a kid, but switched to a Yonex on the counsel of her husband-slash-coach, Bjorn Fratangelo, and despite the skepticism of her agent. Hoping she’d use equipment that was easier on her body, Fratangelo also got her to abandon her natural gut strings. With this new setup she noticed her wrist pain went away and the balls all started landing in. She hasn’t officially signed a deal with Yonex, but her performance at this tournament must be making any eventual contract that much sweeter. As for why the racquet works so well for her: “So to be totally honest, I have no idea why I like this racquet,” Keys told Rothenberg. I’ve always admired how players, even the well-spoken ones, can be quite numinous and vibe-y when discussing their racquet specs. Words are for us nerds; for the ones who can actually do the thing, at that level, all that matters is the feel.

Ten years ago, Keys was a teenager, making her first major semifinal at this tournament, setting expectations aggressively high and not quite meeting them. Now, at 29, her mind is open enough to experiment with the biggest variable in her tennis life, and she has been rewarded with her second major final appearance. She has dispatched a slate of seeded opponents like Danielle Collins, Elena Rybakina, Elina Svitolina. If this Swiatek match was the best match she’s ever played, she’ll need to order another one of those. Her opponent in the final is one of the few opponents who can match her power and even surpass it as needed: Aryna Sabalenka, hunting for an Australian Open three-peat. Keys, reflecting on their 2023 U.S. Open semi, said she played it too safe and felt bad. This time, though, she wants to embrace the discomfort of the moment, to play her boldest tennis and walk away without regrets.



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.



PURE, ORIGINAL TENNIS — SIGN UP!


Back from the Grind

Back from the Grind

Back from the Grind

Book Review: The Racket, by Conor Niland

Book Review: The Racket, by Conor Niland

By Patrick J. Sauer
January 22, 2025

Ireland Davis Cup captain and author Conor Niland // Getty

Ireland Davis Cup captain and author Conor Niland // Getty

Before we collectively embark on our 2025 tennis safari, there’s something we all need to do. Close our eyes, take a deep breath, and contemplate for a moment what it truly means to be the 129th-ranked player on the ATP Tour.

Let’s start by pointing out the obvious. Reaching #129 is an incredible achievement in and of itself, putting the owner of that ranking—held at the start of the Australian Open by 21-year-old Jaime Faria of Portugal—in rarefied air. It’s a ranking well within the somewhat arbitrary, but nonetheless long-standing, Top 150 upper echelon. And yet, #129 is a far cry from the more tennisly salient Top 100, which places the practitioner squarely on the ATP Tour with a now-guaranteed $300,000 basic income. A #129 ranking means trodding the lesser tours, a singular track in which dwelling amongst the 99th percentile—being better at this impossible game than nearly everyone on the planet—requires beating the bushes in front of few fans for little to no money, all in the hopes of climbing the points ladder. Where maybe, just maybe, you claw your way to playing an early-exit center-court millionaire-superstar-warm-up match at a major.

It’s a life Conor Niland, the greatest male tennis player Ireland has ever produced, knew all too well. In 2010, he topped out at #129 but managed to battle his way to an Arthur Ashe showdown against Novak Djokovic in the opening round of the 2011 U.S. Open. Unfortunately, with less than zero margin of error, Niland lost the physical battle with a night-before-the-match meal described as a “pork salad” and had to retire in the second set down 6–0, 5–1. Niland may have thrown up his chance at tennis immortality, but he can take pride in stealing a game off Novak, who went on to win his first of four U.S. Open chips. (Quick refresher on how insane Djoker’s career has been, he beat debutant Faria in the second round of the Aussie last week.)

Niland lays out his seven-year professional odyssey in The Racket: On Tour With Tennis’s Golden Generation—and the Other 99%, the deserving winner of the 2024 William Hill Sports Book of the Year. Niland’s blisters-and-all memoir is an ace, the liveliest craic about the struggles of life on the tennis margins I’ve come across. The Racket serves up a killer mesh of gallows humor and glorious heartbreak, a clear-eyed portrait of the liminal no-man’s-land where Niland was light-years from onetime peer Roger Federer (head-to-head teenage record; Niland 1, Fed 0), and also theoretically within a handful of lucky break points, of crossing the magical Top 100 threshold. Alas, as Niland says, he and every other tennis player have “a deep and lasting relationship with their highest ranking.” Niland’s numbers don’t lie, but it turns out, when told by a first-rate prosesmith, the journey to the middle—from #1,325 at 19 to calling it a #1,041 day at 31—is as fascinating and mystifying as one to the top of the tennis universe.

Along the way, Niland reached the stars, getting a mutual-respect social media boost from fellow non-Brit Andy Murray, helping get Niland a Wimbledon wild card, and hitting with 16-year-old #25-ranked Serena Williams at the Bollettieri Academy. In both cases, Niland quickly crashed back to Earth. In 2011, as the first Irishman to play at Wimbledon in 30 years, he choked away a 4–1 final-set lead to France’s Adrian Mannarino—a contest that warrants its own excruciating chapter, “The Longest Day”—dooming his dream Federer rematch on Centre’s holy grass. Still, Niland fulfilled his personal prophecy, which morphed from a childhood fantasy of winning Wimbledon to the more prosaic professional goal of simply playing there.

Oh, and over two hours of ground strokes, Serena never asked Niland what his name was. Win some, lose a whole lot more.

Fitting his Celtic roots, the no-tennis-ball-can-to-piss-in blarney is as thick and creamy as a pint of stout. (No joke, Niland describes the constant battle to find quality practice balls at sub-tier events as “reliably painful.”) The Irish is strong in The Racket. It feels like a story best unspooled over many nights in front of the fireplace at the pub, beginning with the fact Niland rose up from the streets of Limerick in the first place. Given the sport’s Victorian English origins, the Emerald Isle apparently has as much love and respect for tennis as the Queen Mum’s remains—there were no clay courts in Ireland in Niland’s era—and the country offered small potatoes support-wise. A lack of funds and an institutional buttress runs throughout The Racket, as Niland matter-of-factly details how after finishing up a flush college run at Cal-Berkeley, he was on his own.

Fellow countryman George Bernard Shaw once wrote, “My way of joking is to tell the truth. It’s the funniest joke in the world.” Niland takes that dictum straight to The Racket’s pages, laying out step-by-step how a Challengers existence puts future prestige to rest and becomes solely about making ends meet. Niland avoiding extraneous expenses by washing his kit in the bathtub, surviving on the free protein bars, and calculating whether it’s worth tanking a match to avoid flight-change penalties became the norm. But so did living up to the tennis wannabe’s mantra, “Keep working hard, it will happen,” which means travel, travel, and more travel. That ain’t cheap. At one point, Niland jets from Dublin to Doha hoping to secure an open slot, only to end up trying to convince himself a few Qatari practice rounds and a bit of ruddy face time with whatever governing organizer types were around was worth it. (Spoiler: It wasn’t.)

Niland’s intense low-level schedule shouldn’t be called a grind because that word has inexplicably gained positive pro-worker mindset connotations in certain circles. So we’ll go with “slog.” At his peak, the slog led to playing in 68 tourneys over 85 weeks, in places only the most dedicated cartophiles would recognize, like La Palma, Bucaramanga, Prostejov, Braunschweig, and Houston. Niland endured a bone-chilling –37 temp to play indoors in literal Siberia and battled debilitating 95-degree outdoor heat in Greece. The wildest chase of a precious ATP ranking point involved a seven-hour taxi ride across Uzbekistan with the luggage in his lap and a driver who took an extended lunch break. All for the glory of a Facebook post to a handful of followers back home, one declaring a Niland Bosnian flameout with the brilliant back-page tabloid headline “Conor is…Banjaxed in Banja Luka.”

Beyond the money, the starker reality of The Racket is there was none of the expected camaraderie to make the slog even a wee bit less lonely. Nope. Guys drank by themselves, because God forbid a player get a leg up knowing an opponent is slightly hungover instead of enjoying an entertaining night with the lads. After seven years on tour, Niland retains zero friendships despite crossing paths with countless dudes around his age surviving that brutal tennis life. As he describes it, making a name for oneself on the ITF World Tennis Tour or Challengers circuit isn’t about tennis abilities, “it’s about being able to cope with the strange bedfellows of regular boredom and constant uncertainty. Not many succeed.” And even fewer get the unrequited thrill of almost smashing a Zendaya threesome.

Niland would get his brief celebrity shine after the Novak crap-out, even appearing on an RTE talk show featuring Cuba Gooding Jr., Sinéad O’Connor, and McLovin, but it’s not like he was Stephen Cluxton or Noel Skehan or some kind of big shot. Niland claims contentment just by having gotten out of tennis without a “reflex resentment” of the game, impressive given his pretax earnings over those seven years amounted to $247,686. Do the math. Or don’t. It’s depressing. Therein, though, lies the brilliance of The Racket, and it can be calculated.

Even as a literary sports character, Niland isn’t an archetype. He’s not Rocky Balboa, a down-and-out ham-and-egger who gets his one do-or-die championship shot and seizes it. Nor is he Roy “Tin Cup” McAvoy, a supremely talented Icarus who can’t get out of his own way and flies too close to the 18th green. Neither underdog nor overdog, Conor Niland was a tennis stalwart who simply fell a cut below the top dogs and lived to tell the tale. The current captain of Ireland’s Davis Cup team made his peace—and a hell of a memoir—with all #129 of it:

I don’t believe it’s a contradiction to say that I didn’t fulfill my potential while also saying I couldn’t have tried any harder.

Fair to say, he’s already fulfilled his potential as a writer. Certainly, the irony of a tennis nobody possibly earning recognition and acclaim for being one such fella won’t be lost on his Gaelic wit. Good on ’ya, lad. Reflecting upon the book, what shines through in The Racket didn’t leave me shaking my head and pining for what Conor Niland’s career might have been. It left me nodding in respect for what it was.



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Gorilla vs. Bear Mix 2

Gorilla vs. Bear
x
The Second Serve

Gorilla vs. Bear
x
The Second Serve

The second mix from the iconic OG music blog Gorilla vs. Bear.

The second mix from the iconic OG music blog Gorilla vs. Bear.

By TSS
January 21, 2025

SIGN UP — TENNIS CULTURE. TENNIS LIFE.  TENNIS PASSION.


Honor Student

Honor Student

Honor Student

When it comes to doping tests in tennis, Chris Eubanks has done his homework—others, not so much.

When it comes to doping tests in tennis, Chris Eubanks has done his homework—others, not so much.

By Ben Rothenberg
January 17, 2025

Chris Eubanks has gone to the head of the class. // Getty

Chris Eubanks has gone to the head of the class. // Getty

Christopher Eubanks had a common initial reaction on the morning of Aug. 20, 2024. 

“I woke up and saw the news. I was pretty shocked, like everyone else,” Eubanks told The Second Serve in an interview this week at the Australian Open. 

Jannik Sinner, the recently installed ATP No. 1, had just been revealed by the International Tennis Integrity Agency (ITIA) to have tested positive for the banned substance clostebol; that revelation was made simultaneously to the announcement that an independent tribunal had already ruled that Sinner bore “no fault or negligence” for the positive tests for the substance, which he had explained was transmitted to him unintentionally from his massage therapist’s finger. 

A No. 1-ranked player testing positive was an unprecedented shock that sent ripples and whispers through the sport. But while others around tennis started talking, Eubanks started reading.  

“I wanted to prepare in the event that I, as a current player, was going to be asked about it,” Eubanks said. “And so I took it upon myself to read all 33 pages of the report. A few passages I had to reread multiple times to try to get an understanding of it.”

Eubanks was preparing both as a player and as a commentator for ESPN, whom he worked for for the duration of the US Open after being eliminated from the draw.  

Eubanks wasn’t ultimately asked about the case in a press conference or on-air, but the topic of doping rules and procedures had his “interest already piqued” when the topic popped up again at the top of a tennis ladder.

“Then Iga’s case comes about: another ITIA case,” Eubanks said of Iga Swiatek’s positive test for trimetazidine, revealed on Thanksgiving Day. “And again, because of preparation for doing Tennis Channel a few months later, I wanted to try to educate myself as much as possible on the facts of the case.”

Eubanks read not only the decision in the Swiatek case, but the procedural rules outlined in the 2024 Tennis Anti-Doping Programme.

“I wanted to cross-reference with an actual reading of the rule from the rule book so that I had a good understanding of it,” Eubanks said. “And then it just kind of went from there. Once I kind of got going in it, I was really, really invested in it. For me, I just wanted to make sure I had a good understanding of the facts of the case and [wasn’t] just allowing what I read on social media to dictate my perception of it.”

The more he became well-versed in the topic and its literature, the more Eubanks winced when hearing others misrepresent the facts of the cases. He chalked up the persistence of misinformation to “the time in which we live now.” 

“It was a bit, I would say, disheartening, to see things said publicly that—based on my understanding of the rules at the time—just weren’t factual,” Eubanks said. “They just weren’t true.”

One voice Eubanks did listen to—and retweet—was Richard Ings, a former tennis chair umpire who later headed the ATP’s original anti-doping operation and later the Australian Sports Anti-Doping Authority (ASADA). 

“I like to say that I’m smart enough to listen to people who are smarter than me,” Eubanks said. “And so, because Richard has the background in it, he was one of the people that I looked to on social media to give some type of insight.”

As he gained his own literacy in the topic, Eubanks was frequently able to correct and educate his fellow players in conversations, like when they repeatedly said that Sinner must have done something wrong to have had his points and prize money from Indian Wells—the tournament at which his positive tests occurred—voided. 

“I tried to reiterate that that is a procedural rule,” Eubanks said. “That has to happen anytime you have an adverse analytical finding from an in-competition sample. That’s not a discretionary thing…. I think that was one of the more frustrating ones because I’d be like, ‘Guys, it’s in the report! It’s, like, right there! You can go back and look in the actual rule book and see. Come on, guys. It’s clearly written in black and white.’”

Eubanks even became versed in more obscure precedents in order to corroborate and defend the handling of the high-profile cases.

“They would ask me, ‘Well, do you think this would have happened if it hadn’t been Jannik Sinner?’” Eubanks said. “And my response was: It happened to Marco Bortolotti. His ITIA report is right there, easily accessible, and you can look it up. He tested positive on an in-competition sample at the end of the year in 2023. He was notified in either January or February. He submitted his response; he was allowed to continue playing, and then they eventually ruled it ‘No fault or negligence.’ It was the same exact process—minus obviously a lot of details because of how the clostebol got into Sinner’s system. But by and large, this process was the exact same. And when I mentioned Bortolotti, most of the players just don’t know. And I had never heard of Marco Bortolotti, and I’m playing out here. So I would oftentimes send them the report and go, ‘Read it! It’s the exact same, and it’s a lot shorter than Sinner’s.’”

Because of the unprecedented pair of high-profile cases in recent months, the ITIA arranged two open-door informational sessions at the Australian Open last weekend. Eubanks, who had lost in the final round of qualifying and was waiting to see if he might be able to get into the main draw as a lucky loser, was the only player to attend.

Adrian Bassett, director of communications for the ITIA, was struck not only by Eubanks’ presence, but by his preparedness: Eubanks arrived to the meeting with the PDFs of the decisions downloaded and annotated on his iPad, and a list of questions pre-written. 

“I don’t think you would naturally expect that from players,” Bassett said of Eubanks. “But it’s great that he did. He was engaged, and they were all sensible questions. And I hope we gave him sensible answers that helped his understanding of it. We’re always open to talking to players and answering their questions. But it definitely stood out.” 

Seeing his intellectual rigor and attention to detail, I asked Eubanks if he perhaps planned on something like law school after his tennis-playing career ends.

“No, no, no, no,” Eubanks insisted. “Way too much work. I would gladly just take the way that I am into other walks in my life. And whatever I choose to do, I’ll probably have that same kind of diligent approach to 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.



PURE, ORIGINAL TENNIS — SIGN UP!


The 2025 Australian Open Shoe Report

The 2025 Australian Open
Shoe Report

The 2025
Australian Open
Shoe Report

Marsh green, flowers, and animals highlight
the Happy Slam.

Marsh green, flowers, and animals highlight the Happy Slam.

By Tim Newcomb
January 15, 2025

The Australian Open may be on the other side of the world for many tennis fans, but for brands it is the first real opportunity in a new calendar year to show off fresh designs. And sometimes new faces.

While some athletes may be sporting new footwear, others simply have added a little flair to their kicks, whether it’s Nike’s embellishments for a handful of players, fresh designs for Novak Djokovic and Daniil Medvedev, a special colorway for Marta Kostyuk, or the next colorway of the sport’s leading signature shoe for Coco Gauff. 

Aryna Sabalenka
Jannik Sinner

Nike NXT & Zoom Zero

In a trend befitting Nike, two of the brand’s top players wear discontinued sneaker models. Aryna Sabalenka still sports the Zoom Nxt and Jannik Sinner the Zoom Zero. Both defending AO champions received similar treatment for the 2025 tournament, with Sabalenka’s shoes now featuring a tiger image near the heel to match her famed tattoo and Sinner’s model adorned with a fox—complete with paw prints, mind you—to tie to a nickname he picked up long ago.

Getty

Getty

COCO GAUFF

New Balance CG2

This is the second major Coco Gauff has played in the sequel iteration of her signature shoe from New Balance. This CG2 Coco AO colorway complements the Australian outdoors with a classic “marsh green,” the brand tells me, but there’s also a tie to Boston.

“When working with Coco on the Coco CG2 Australian Open colorway, we really leaned in on the color green and the retro vibes that color has for both tennis and Boston,” Jodi Klann, footwear creative design manager at Boston-based New Balance, tells me. “Coco wanted this first colorway of the year to be wearable while elevated and mature. Coco’s ideas and inspiration from the world around her make working on her signature model very fun, especially when we get to pull in elements from past collaborations, sports, and cultural moments.”

Images courtesy of New Balance

Images courtesy of New Balance

Marta Kostyuk

Wilson Intrigue

Wilson’s new women’s-specific Intrigue shoe, created in collaboration with Marta Kostyuk, doesn’t launch until February, but the head-to-toe Wilson athlete has been wearing the model in tournaments since the 2024 US Open. For this year’s AO, Kostyuk has a special-edition colorway in white and red that matches her dress.

Image courtesy of Wilson

Image courtesy of Wilson

Novak Djokovic

Asics Court FF3 Novak

Each major, Asics creates a fresh colorway of Novak Djokovic’s Court FF 3 Novak player-edition model, which includes small Djokovic-specific logos on the tongue. For the 2025 AO, the theme remains blue, a color he wore at the event in 2024 and again at the US Open in 2024 (he donned red at the 2024 Roland-Garros).

Images courtesy of Asics

Images courtesy of Asics

Naomi Osaka

Nike GP Challenge 1

There’s a special Naomi Osaka version of the mainline Nike GP Challenge 1. And this one is all about sunshine and flowers. Osaka, one of the lead athletes on the GP Challenge 1, routinely sports her own designs. The AO version features orange and brown with plenty of flower decorations, including one on the forefoot and another flower popping off the tongue. The phrase “The sun shines where you are” is on the upper.

Images courtesy of Nike

Images courtesy of Nike

Daniil Medvedev

Lacoste AG-LT 23 x Daniil Medvedev

One of the few athletes on tour we can rely on to have his own player-edition model, Daniil Medvedev’s Lacoste AG-LT 23 silhouette comes with a base of white and plenty of blue accenting. The typical “Daniil M.” mark adorns the tongue.

Images courtesy of Lacoste

Images courtesy of Lacoste


Frances Tiafoe, who has made appearances in the Shoe Report in the past, made plenty of waves by switching his apparel to Lululemon ahead of the 2025 AO, but his footwear deal is still in limbo. For the tournament, Tiafoe is wearing the new K-Swiss Ultrashot 4. What he wears for the remainder of 2025 remains undecided.


Nike athletes have a few new options to choose from, as those choosing the Vapor Pro model now have the Vapor Pro 3—worn this year by Emma Raducanu and Jack Draper—and those in the regular Vapor model have the 12s, such as what Nick Kyrgios donned on court.

The new Vapor Pro 3 Premium. // Nike


Grigor Dimitrov, who was long a Nike stalwart, even wearing Vapor 9 models for years after his Nike deal expired, made a footwear announcement before the AO, signing with Adidas (he wears Lacoste apparel). Dimitrov opted for the Ubersonic for his first match at the tournament, which he retired from early.

Image courtesy of Adidas


Casper Ruud’s Yonex kits continue to feature his name and the flag of his home country, Norway, on the uppers. This year’s AO is no different, outfitting Ruud in a pair of player-edition red Eclipsion 5s.


Adidas athletes are showing off a “bright red and pink color” at this year’s tournament, which the brand says is inspired by the Australian desert. Adidas hasn’t offered up player-edition models for years.


Cam Norrie has switched to a head-to-toe Babolat deal, which puts him now in the all-new SFX 3 from the brand.


Leylah Fernandez continues to don her father’s unreleased Aesem branded shoes.


We thought that when Andy Murray retired from tennis, he’d also retire from the Shoe Report, but we are glad to see that he has been wearing Asics models while on the court coaching Djokovic. Murray played the past few years of his career without a shoe deal, so Djokovic’s sponsor obviously lined him up with some fresh kicks.


Follow Tim Newcomb’s tennis gear coverage on Instagram at Felt Alley Tennis.

Follow Tim Newcomb’s tennis gear coverage on Instagram at Felt Alley Tennis.

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Postcard from Adelaide

Postcard from Adelaide

Ahead of the Australian Open, photographer Stuart Kerr checks in from the Adelaide International.

Ahead of the Australian Open, photographer Stuart Kerr checks in from the Adelaide International.

Photography by Stuart Kerr
January 11, 2025

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Baby Djoker

Baby Djoker

Baby Djoker

Nishesh Basavareddy is making an impact at his first ATP tournaments.

Nishesh Basavareddy is making an impact at his first ATP tournaments.

By Giri Nathan
January 10, 2025

Nishesh Basavareddy in Auckland this week. // Getty

Nishesh Basavareddy in Auckland this week. // Getty

A tennis analyst with an encyclopedic grasp on the college game, Alex Gruskin, told me a funny story about an event he hosted in 2020. One match had featured a 15-year-old boy named Nishesh Basavareddy, who often competed in rec specs. His opponent was a fifth-year senior on the University of Kentucky men’s tennis team. The teen won 18 of the first 20 points in the match, causing the college veteran to wonder aloud, “Am I playing fucking Djokovic?” Gruskin, through laughter, issued a code violation. From a young age, Basavareddy has had this effect on opponents. “That’s when I knew,” Gruskin told me. In the years since, watching Basavareddy’s court coverage, return game, and eerily clean two-handed backhand, he found himself making the Novak Djokovic comparison too.

I’d personally been keeping tabs on Basavareddy’s results for a while, due to some shared demographic categories (Indian-American, bespectacled, not tall). I’d sat in on some of his junior matches at the US Open, where he won the boys’ doubles title in 2022. The talent was obvious, but as Gruskin pointed out, his junior career had been interrupted by some serious knee injuries, too. Basavareddy has said that he did indeed model some aspects of his game after Djokovic, his favorite player, but also drew on players like Kei Nishikori and David Goffin, who were under six feet but adept at taking the ball early and redirecting the opponent’s pace. At this stage of his career, Basavareddy plays a bit more aggressively than Djokovic; he’s quicker to flatten out his backhand and assume some risk.

Basavareddy played for two seasons at Stanford, but last summer and fall he played such good tennis it practically forced his hand to go pro. He received some wild cards on the Challenger Tour, then won 28 of 34 matches in one stretch. He moved up to No. 138 in the world, received a wild card for the Australian Open main draw, and qualified for the Next Gen Finals. After consulting with his mentor Rajeev Ram—somehow there is more than one Indian-American, pro-grade tennis player from Carmel, Ind.—Nishesh opted to leave behind campus life for the world tour. Though on the off chance his parents are reading this, he has said that once he’s done with the tour, he’s “definitely” going to finish his degree.

This year, Basavareddy, 19 years old, is playing his first ATP tournaments. He hasn’t needed much time to get acclimated. In a thrilling run at the Auckland 250 this week, just his second event, he beat five top-100 names, including the tournament’s defending champ, world No. 23 Alejandro Tabilo. On Thursday in the semifinal he played the always slippery Gael Monfils, somehow for the second time this year. This match was its own education. Basavareddy outplayed the Frenchman throughout the first set, only to arrive in a tiebreak, where Monfils spent the time in between points keeled over, visibly in distress, propping himself up with his racquet, working the clock. But those of us who have been watching the Frenchman for nearly the whole duration of Nishesh Basavareddy’s life know one thing: Monfils is never truly dead, even when he looks like death. Basavareddy made a few errors on routine balls and wound up losing the first set despite having won nine more points in it.

The second set nearly followed the same script. Basavareddy was the steadier player, only to have a little hiccup while serving at 4–4. Monfils saw his first break points of the entire match and cashed out; minutes later the talented teen was packing his bags. Another bewildering escape from the Frenchman, and an object lesson in how to win only a match’s most essential points. The next stop on tour for Basavareddy is Melbourne, where he’ll get his first taste of a major tournament. There he will likely receive some more lessons, from a player who has indirectly taught him quite a bit: His first-round opponent at the Australian Open is its 10-time champ, Novak Djokovic. 



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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Frances Tiafoe Makes It Official with Lululemon

Frances Tiafoe Makes It Official With Lululemon

A high-profile partnership begins at the Australian Open.

A high-profile partnership begins at the Australian Open.

By Tim Newcomb
January 9, 2025

Images courtesy of Lululemon

Images courtesy of Lululemon

The speculation is over. Frances Tiafoe and Lululemon have announced their partnership ahead of the 2025 Australian Open, with the popular American planning to wear a vivid “passionate pink” shirt-and-short combination from the Vancouver-based brand.

With an expired Nike sponsorship deal, Tiafoe has signed to Lululemon, giving the brand another high-profile ambassador in tennis, a sport the brand continually embraces.

Tiafoe will wear a custom-made version of the brand’s Metal Vent Tech Tee and pair it with a Pace Breaker Short for the tournament. Both will be in pink. He’ll also have a custom Sojourn Windbreaker Jacket with a tennis-court graphic on the back linking to his hometown region of Washington, D.C., Maryland and Virginia with the words “DMV Made.” The graphic will incorporate the coordinates of where he grew up playing tennis in College Park, Md.

Beyond the Australian Open, expect Tiafoe to collaborate with Lululemon on products and have a key role in what he wears on the court. “I’m excited to work with a brand that allows me to express myself and look forward to being part of the creative process both on and off the court,” Tiafoe says.

The world No. 17 will pair his Lululemon apparel with K-Swiss Ultrashot 4 shoes for the Australian Open as he decides which brand’s shoes he will wear in 2025. Lululemon does not produce tennis sneakers.

Lululemon entered tennis in 2022 by signing Canadian Leylah Fernandez and has continued to add tennis-specific products. Lululemon’s tennis lineup includes Fernandez and 20-year-old American Ethan Quinn. Tiafoe now gives Lululemon an eye-catching addition in the sport. And the pink help makes that pop. 

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.


A Slice Is Life

A Slice Is Life

A Slice Is Life

Aoi Ito unveils her kooky shot selection.

Aoi Ito unveils her kooky shot selection.

By Giri Nathan
January 3, 2025

Aoi Ito of Japan in Canberra this month. // Alamy

Aoi Ito of Japan in Canberra this month. // Alamy

The Friday before the start of Roland-Garros, I found myself seated courtside, alongside perhaps three or four fans, watching two strange legends rally. Out on the clay were Mansour Bahrami, the mustachioed trick-shot connoisseur, and Su-wei Hsieh, arguably the most advanced junkballer of the past decade. You might be wondering what it’s like when two players notorious for their spontaneity set out to attempt something as regimented as “practice.” I can assure you there’s no metronomic hitting of perfect topspin drives along boring crosscourt trajectories. Instead, with these two co-conspiring, practice felt like a random shot generator. Grips never before seen. A series of two-handed slices absolutely ripped from above shoulder height. Drop shots, lobs, tweeners. On a minute-by-minute basis it was about as entertaining as any competitive tennis match I saw that week—true sublimity for the fan of deviant tennis. Earlier that year, Hsieh, then 38, had announced that she was retiring from singles competition. While she was to continue her successful doubles career, I was sad that her singular shot selection would no longer be gracing the singles court.

Her game seemed like a vestige of a bygone era when low-powered, unorthodox styles were still viable. Before the optimization of technique filtered most of the true oddities out of the universe; before the power-baseline game became the blueprint for tennis development the world over. Little did I know, Hsieh would find a spiritual successor before the season was even through. Aoi Ito, a 20-year-old from Japan, was ready to inherit that kooky shot selection. The first clips I saw of Ito were from her WTA debut at the 250 in Osaka last fall. As soon as I saw the shocking quantity of forehand slices leaving Ito’s racquet, I knew the game was in good hands. It was a compelling story. Ito had not been much of a presence in junior tennis. She started the 2024 season ranked outside the top 400, and after that run in Osaka—from the qualifiers all the way to the semifinals—she got a foothold inside the top 200. She would finish the season at No. 127. This week, she’s on the cusp of breaking into the top 100, having made it to Saturday’s final at the Canberra WTA 125; after that, she’ll presumably try to qualify for her first major tournament in Melbourne.

How far can a tennis player get on the WTA in 2025 with a game premised on pure touch and deft angles? That’s what I’m eager to find out. The tour is squarely in the era of Aryna Sabalenka and Iga Swiatek, heavy ball-strikers exploring the limits of power and topspin. But perhaps there’s still an ecological niche for an utterly relaxed junkballer to occupy. I highly recommend watching some of the highlights from this week. Ito’s philosophy could be boiled down to anti-rhythm. The opponent never gets to see the same type of ball twice in a row. While she can crack a flat drive when necessary, she is most eager to hack spinny off-speed shots all over the court. It looks like the late stage of a hitting session where your legs are dead and you’re just futzing around—only if that were executed with a frightening degree of feel, by someone who was not actually tired at all. Her light serve and casual, unhurried steps between shots further belie the dangerousness of her game.

According to a great recent interview with Alex Macpherson, Ito seems to have a personality to match her play style. She views tennis as a role-playing video game, which lets her enjoy advancing the rankings. She likes playing tennis but has barely watched it as a fan, which must partially explain how she honed such an unorthodox style. “I don’t care at all whether I play like everyone else or not,” she said. Frustrating opponents brings her happiness. Her team consists of her parents. Mom worked for a travel agency and plans out her itineraries; dad played tennis for fun when younger and offers tactical advice. Her dad is also a big Su-wei Hsieh fan. But Ito herself hadn’t really ever seen her predecessor play. Asked which WTA player she’d most like to play, she picked herself. Troll-y tennis, troll-y answers. It’s all so coherent. 



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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Manna from Bopanna

Manna From Bopanna

Manna From Bopanna

The kid from Coorg has been serving up exhilarating pro tennis for over 20 years.

The kid from Coorg has been serving up exhilarating pro tennis for over 20 years.

By Giri Nathan
Photography by Clive Brunskill

 

Featured in Volume 1 of OPEN Tennis — BUY

Manna From Bopanna

Manna From Bopanna

The kid from Coorg has been serving up exhilarating pro tennis for over 20 years.

The kid from Coorg has been serving up exhilarating pro tennis for over 20 years.

By Giri Nathan
Photography by Clive Brunskill

 

Featured in Volume 1 of OPEN Tennis — BUY

The hair atop the heads of Carlos Alcaraz and Novak Djokovic has been described as “LEGO hair”—low hairline, a dark color, a follicular density so staggering it seems to amount to a continuous surface. Perhaps the part of the human genome that brings about this hair also brings about elite tennis technique. The Indian doubles specialist Rohan Bopanna has this same spectacular hair, though by the time he became world No. 1, it had finally started to thin out at the crown, ceding the ground it had stubbornly held for so long. That’s because Bopanna first became world No. 1 doubles player this past February, at the age of 43 years and 331 days, the oldest man in men’s tennis to climb that particular mountain for the first time. He has achieved the bulk of his most significant career achievements past the age of 35 and has found a way forward with “no cartilage” left in his knees. You wouldn’t know it from the gray-speckled beard, or the gentle stoop in the shoulders that belies the power in his racquet, but Bopanna is a savvy survivor of a punishing game, finding his best tennis in his silver years.

That one fortnight was packed with career milestones, beyond clinching the top ranking. Bopanna logged his 500th win on tour. He won his first Grand Slam title in men’s doubles—the Australian Open, alongside partner Matthew Ebden. And, as a result, he was granted one of India’s highest civilian honors. “The Padma Shri award and being world No. 1 were the two massive recognitions,” he said to me, starting to laugh. “And also it felt like I just arrived on the tennis circuit, even though I’ve been playing for 20-plus years.”

But those countrymen who’ve been tuned in to his every move are awed by his late-blooming brilliance. “To play at this level at 44—there’s only one word for it, and that’s phenomenal,” said Anand Amritraj, who has known Bopanna for decades and captained him for four years on India’s Davis Cup team. “He’s done well for himself, he’s done well for the country, he’s done well in Davis Cup—and now he’s in the Olympics.” Bopanna, making his third appearance at the Games, is the oldest Olympian in the Indian delegation in Paris.

As Bopanna and I speak under the ash-white cloud cover of London in July, a few days ahead of the start of Wimbledon, we circle around a subject of common interest: the odd cultural niche that tennis occupies in India. There’s quite a bit of popular interest, and some rich history, too, spanning from the Amritraj family and Ramesh Krishnan in the ’70s and ’80s, to the Wimbledon-winning Leander Paes–Mahesh Bhupathi duo of the ’90s, to the long run of Sania Mirza in the ’00s and ’10s. But there’s vanishingly little in the way of a national talent development system, and any player who does manage to crack into the top tier of the game is a small miracle, a confluence of irreplicable circumstances. One of Bopanna’s priorities is sharing what he knows, and patching up the broken infrastructure for India’s players of the future, “just so that the journey can be a little bit smoother for them.”

*****

Bopanna spent his early life in Coorg, in the southern state of Karnataka. Stowed on the eastern slopes of the Western Ghat mountain range, it is a psychedelically lush, misty place known for stirring views and extreme biodiversity. It’s also a fine climate for agriculture, and Bopanna was raised on his family coffee farm. Food remains a priority. He tours with his own coffee beans in his luggage; he eats widely in his travels; his young daughter is consequently developing an expensive salmon sashimi habit. He recommends me some Coorg specialties for my next visit: Akki roti, a soft flatbread of rice flour flecked with onions and chilis, goes well with pandi curry, a darkly spiced pork dish shot through with a bracing vinegar made from the gummi-gutta fruit. Childhood in Coorg was defined by nature and exploration. When he wanted a glass of milk, he went straight to the cow. Dinner came out of the vegetable garden. Whenever snakes got inside the house, his mom would dispel them, while his dad just ran away. Young Rohan was covered in a permanent coat of scrapes and bruises from biking and climbing trees all over the coffee estate. Looking back at his birthplace, Bopanna gives credit to the region’s unique cultural microclimate within a country that is broadly indifferent to the serious pursuit of athletics. “In Coorg, 80 or 90 percent of the population introduced sports to their kids. It is a very different culture,” he said. “Going through a sports journey or going to the army are the two fields that are very, very encouraged in Coorg.”

Which is not to say it was a natural environment to learn tennis, specifically. But the tennis bug had already taken hold of the family. Bopanna’s parents went to England for their honeymoon in 1975. While in London, his dad and a friend insisted on investigating what exactly was going on at Wimbledon. They showed up on site with little prior knowledge, grabbed grounds tickets from departing fans, were let into Centre Court by an accommodating usher, and were told they could watch from the stairs for as long as they wanted. They stood there for hours. Upon return to Coorg, Bopanna’s father and his friends built their own tennis club and, alongside their wives, taught themselves how to play the game. Rohan joined in at age 10, playing before school early in the mornings because club members would get priority later in the day. Early instruction: whatever his dad could glean from books, which meant Rohan learned to hit his forehand, backhand, serve, and volleys all with the continental grip, and he’d only catch up with contemporary tennis ideology years later. Early nutritional plan: mom’s intuition and an abundance of homegrown food. Early fitness: a hammer, some logs to hit with the hammer, some poles and ropes that dad set up. To this day, there is no gym in the area. Tennis balls were whatever the club happened to be able to afford. When a string broke, someone would have to bring the racquet for a restring in Mysore (a two-and-a-half-hour drive in present traffic) or Bangalore (closer to five hours).

Even within a sport full of unusual journeys, a Coorg coffee farm is a faintly preposterous place to cultivate a Grand Slam champion. “It’s not like there was any place to go and train, or to find out what it is,” he said. “There was no internet back then. We didn’t have electricity, forget internet. There were many times in school, I was studying under candle. But this was a normal thing for anybody growing up from a small village.” Bopanna was alone on the coffee estate most of the time; while most of his friends had been sent off to boarding school, his dad wanted to keep him close to keep developing his tennis. That often required serious improvisation. Once, when he was desperate to prepare for a tournament during monsoon season, a coffee drying yard was repurposed into a tennis court, with ropes laid down as lines. These experiences seem to have left him in a state of reverse jadedness, a kind of long-release appreciation for all the places tennis has taken him. “Every time I come to these events,” he said, gesturing from a perch above that same court where his dad once stood rapt on the stairs, “I really feel that I appreciate it more.”

“Gorgeous” Gussie Moran, tennis’ first pinup. // Getty

Lea Pericoli with Italian tennis icon Adriano Panatta // Getty

Eventually Rohan’s tennis ambitions outgrew Coorg, however. At age 11 or 12, he tried to enroll in tennis academies and was told he was not good enough. By age 14, an academy in Pune, Maharashtra, said they wouldn’t offer him a scholarship, but they would let him enroll on full tuition. “For me, it was like freedom. Being at home with strict parents, I thought, ‘Oh, this is great. I’ll be getting some more free time,’” he said. The reality turned out far grimmer: He stayed in a hostel with a warden and woke up at 5 a.m. every day to make it to fitness at 5:45. Any student who missed a fitness session could not play tennis that day. He often found himself biking 14 or 15 kilometers a day, sometimes through cold and rain, just to get between the different training locations, an experience that would eventually inspire his own “all under one roof” philosophy of tennis instruction, so that the tennis pupils of the future don’t find themselves rain-soaked at dawn.

Once Bopanna broke into the pros, he played some singles but found real traction on the doubles court, the site of most Indian tennis success over the past three decades. Early in his career he thrived alongside the Pakistani player Aisam-Ul-Haq Qureshi, a partnership known as “the Indo-Pak Express,” a small bridge across a geopolitical abyss. Together they won five ATP titles and made the final of the 2010 US Open. Bopanna won his first major title at the 2017 French Open, a mixed-doubles trophy alongside the Canadian player Gaby Dabrowski. But by 2019, pain was interjecting in his career. His knees were devoid of cartilage, and he didn’t want knee replacements. Hyaluronic acid injections did nothing. After receiving platelet-rich plasma injections, he was told he’d only really notice the effects after strengthening his legs, but he was in too much pain to try traditional gym workouts like squats or leg extensions. A cousin suggested Iyengar yoga, a style that emphasizes ultraprecise body alignment and long static poses. Bopanna, not much of a practitioner, called The Practice Room, an Iyengar center near his home in Bangalore, and laid out his woes. While they’d never before worked with an active athlete, he was soon coming in for 90-minute sessions. After helping him rebuild the strength in his legs, they also got to work aligning his back and shoulders, too.

Asked about his favorite poses, Bopanna smiled. “I don’t think there’s a favorite, because there are some positions where I know they’re good for me, but you have a high tolerance of pain, because they put me in for seven, eight minutes tied with ropes and weights, just lying down there. And now I think they know I can take a good amount of pain in the body, so they’re also pushing me to every limit. But after the class, it just feels incredible.” These excursions into voluntary, restorative pain have allowed him to play his sport free of any pain, which was an unimaginable prospect just a few years prior. He used to take two or three painkillers a day and has now quit them altogether. Bopanna said he’d love to travel with his two yoga instructors, but costs already pile up with a physio and coach. So he developed a new strategy. Wherever he’s staying on tour, he takes photos of the layout and furniture, sends it to his instructors, and they devise exercises that make use of the props on hand. Suddenly he rapped the wooden surface in between us: “This table we’re sitting on can be a great prop for yoga, because it has sharp edges.”

*****

Any 20-plus-year career has its ups and downs, and not long after these significant physical revelations, Bopanna found himself back in the dumps. A few months into 2021, he considered abandoning the racquet for good. After a loss in Estoril, Portugal—his seventh loss in seven matches played that season, winning only one set along the way—he found himself sitting by the ocean, wondering what it was all for. “What am I even doing? I’m not even winning matches, I have a family at home. Should I just call it a day and just go back?” he recalled thinking at the time. His daughter was 4 years old. He could easily throw himself into the third-generation coffee business. But he kept at tennis, trying to restore whatever joy he could, and picked up three titles in 2023. The next year he landed in arguably the most fruitful partnership of his career. Bopanna has described a doubles partnership as a marriage, and on that analogy, it is never too late for love. Matthew Ebden, a 36-year-old Australian veteran, completes him. Pooling together their tennis histories, they realized they’d experienced most of the tour: “No matter which tournament or which round we were in, we had already been there before,” Bopanna said. They won the Australian Open title this year and have also picked up titles in Indian Wells, Miami, and Doha. Bopanna thinks Ebden’s brilliant returns and consistency complement his own power-oriented game, defined by a big serve and forehand.

Part of Bopanna’s longevity can be explained by how doubles strategy has slowly evolved in alignment with his own shifting skill set. Earlier in his career, Bopanna, like everyone else, was a big practitioner of the serve-and-volley. Not so much these days, because while his knees have improved a great deal, they’re still not too happy about those speedy advances to the net. Fortunately, that’s not as big a part of his job description anymore. When I talk to Anand Amritraj, the former Davis Cup captain, he marvels at how much doubles has transformed since his heyday, when he was in the 1976 Wimbledon men’s doubles semifinal with his brother Vijay. “Rohan serves and stays back—but he’s got that massive first and an equally massive second serve,” he said. “So he’s able to do what he does; he stays back and whales on forehands. And the two returners are in the backcourt, they’re not chipping and charging, like a Paul Annacone.” The image of three players at the baseline and only one at the net might be anathema to an Amritraj, but it has served Bopanna’s tennis neatly, well into his 40s. So has his new attitude toward scheduling. Earlier in his career, he insisted on playing as many tournaments as possible, but he has learned to devote the off weeks to recovery and preparation, maximizing the events he does play.

*****

Bopanna is eager to distill all his gradually accumulated wisdom for India’s next cohort of players. Gesturing around the grounds, he somberly observed that there are no Indian players in the qualifying draw at Wimbledon. “Everybody just talks about 1.5 billion people, why don’t we have some? You will not have some if nothing is there to give that direction to help somebody,” he said. He’s seen a lot of great junior talent opt for the American college route and never circle back to tennis. While he considers the overall sporting culture in India to be lagging 30 or 40 years beyond the U.S. or Europe, he points to cricket and badminton as sports with a robust national support system. Tennis isn’t one of them. With his academy in Bangalore, Bopanna has tried to outline his ideal tennis pedagogy, and crucially, it does not involve lengthy bike rides from point A to point B. Everything is centralized: coaching, fitness, lodging, food, and quality education—a sticking point for many Indian parents, he said. Bopanna also wants to incorporate yoga in his programming, as he believes it’s better adopted early than after the ravages of a tennis career. He sponsors underprivileged students. He wants to improve access to quality coaching at a young age, and he wants to create more opportunities for Indians to get exposure to high-level competition without prohibitively expensive travel. To that end, Bopanna dreams of a Futures and Challengers tournament in every state of the country. If anything, India has only lost ground here in recent years. In the 2024 season, neither the ATP or WTA will hold any tour-level events in the country; as for the lower-tier events, there are nine on the men’s side and six on the women’s side.

Building out these tournaments, he hopes, would improve the overall status of the sport in a cricket-centric country. Bopanna, as mellow and good-natured a professional athlete as I’ve ever met, seemed slightly amused by an abrupt rush of national appreciation for a career that had already seen significant successes over two decades. “I think that the challenge is that nobody really understands tennis,” he said. “Say both of us are playing an event, right? You come back and you say you got a silver medal. I come back and I say, ‘I’m runner-up.’ You go to a layman, and the guy’s just going to relate to silver.” Tennis’ many tiers, and all its specific nomenclature, can confound even a sympathetic outsider. “I may have 25 titles…but the 25 gold medals are valued more in the country than 225 titles, right?”

The sport doesn’t make it easy, either. It often feels impossible for him to view his own matches at an ATP 250, Bopanna observes. But badminton’s standing has shot up in recent years due to increased coverage, and he thinks tennis can follow suit. “It’s something which just will change only with the sport being more telecasted or spoken about in the country—and automatically, they will understand what I am doing, what Sumit is doing,” he said, referencing Sumit Nagal, the talented singles player, ranked No. 80 at time of writing, who famously had 900 euros in his bank account late last year before stringing together some career-sustaining wins at the start of 2024. Bopanna says he’s talking to entrepreneurs to try to secure the funding needed to transform India’s talent development pipeline into something closer to Italy’s, the system he admires most. Perhaps, with his sustained effort, an Indian career in tennis won’t have to feel as solitary and perilous as it has in the past. But for now, the yoga poses and ice baths are still working, and he’s got a few more seasons to grace the doubles courts before he shifts his full energies to coaching and coffee beans.

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