Bill Simons
It was one of the more candid comments we’ve heard in years.
In his Thursday press conference, Nick Kyrgios said, “Not everyone can be a Federer or Djokovic. These are once-in-a-decade athletes that inspire millions of people. They’re just gods. I see them as that, too.” More importantly Nick confided, “I’m okay with not winning Grand Slams. I know that’s going to make a lot of people angry. ‘He should be doing this.’ But I shouldn’t, though. It’s not your life, it’s mine. I’m okay with just enjoying myself, putting on a show…I just don’t put that much pressure on myself any more. I’m okay with that.”
Some were stunned by his candor. They shouldn’t have been. After all, if at Wimbledon there were some kind of biathlon-type medal for combined best performances on court and in press conferences, the Aussie would have a massive lead. He’s been killing it.
His five-month break from the grind of the game seems to have filtered out much of the raw, angry, erratic and sometimes nasty aspects of a man who was often in turmoil. Time and distance from the fray seem to have worked their magic. They often do. Ashe, McEnroe, of course Agassi and even Federer come to mind.
All the while, Kyrgios’ enchanting, athletic, spontaneous gifts, his candor, freedom and connection with regular folks seem to have been amplified. Clearly Nick, whose ranking has dipped to No. 60, comes from the rebel-without-a-cause side of the tennis family: Pancho Gonzales, Ilie Nastase, Jimmy Connors, Goran Ivanisevic, Marat Safin. He’s had dust-ups with umpires, Aussie legends, Djokovic, Rafa and Rafa’s Uncle Toni, Zverev, Olympic officials, and fans from London to Miami.
But at this year’s Wimbledon, what’s been front and center is a mindset similar to that of Yannick Noah, the French philosopher king who celebrated authenticity, boldness, individuality and entertainment, while bristling at the soul-deadening aspects of obsessive competitiveness.
These days, Kyrgios is the freest man in tennis. He isn’t weighed down by a burdensome entourage. Unlike every other top player, he doesn’t have a coach. He doesn’t travel with a mental trainer or a spiritual advisor. Stuffy customs and “Don’t shake the boat” conformity matter little to this free spirit, (who boldly spoke out against tennis’ COVID-spreading events and mindsets).
Kyrgios’ captivating performances on the Australian Open’s intimate No. 3 court, Melbourne Arena, have long been sure-fire, must-see happenings that are said to be the best show in tennis. Now he’s brought his act to Wimbledon: getting coaching tips from eager fans, faking underhand serves, blasting aces, hitting trick shots, imaginative flicks and unleashing a free-form shotmaking repertoire few this side of Federer can match. Plus, in press conferences he’s no longer defensive, he’s not at all nasty, and, get this, he’s actually approachable. His cutting sarcasm seems to be on mute. He doesn’t sit sideways with a distant gaze any more so as to avoid eye contact, yet he’s still fun and unpredictable. Plus the 26-year-old, of Greek and Malaysian heritage, is far more reflective and wise, while still very much being his own man.
Nick calls himself “the old soul of the tour,” and says he’s trying to put aside what he calls “the outside noise.” He now feels he’s more embracing and embraced by others. He explained, “I don’t put as much pressure on myself any more. When I was younger, it was hard to deal with all the criticism that the media gave me, that everyone gave me. ‘He should be doing this, he should be achieving this. He’s not doing this enough.’
“It beat me down to a point of very bad depression. I wasn’t even enjoying myself. I wasn’t even coming to Wimbledon and enjoying myself. I was not embracing this amazing event. I wasn’t embracing having another day.
“Now I just enjoy it when I’m out there. I breathe in the fresh air. I don’t take anything for granted. I feel like I’m comfortable, just enjoying – like, it’s Wimbledon! People love Wimbledon. I love Wimbledon. I love seeing the crowd. Just the smell of it.”
A reporter asked, “Why do you think there are so few non-conformist players out there?…What is it about tour life that makes some people sort of cookie-cutter?”
Kyrgios replied, “It’s the culture of the sport. It’s very clean, very clean-cut. You get told to play a certain way…like Diego Schwartzman, when I was young. ‘[Hit] cross-court, be disciplined, don’t change direction too much. Maybe don’t hit a big second serve there, that’s a bad dropshot.’
“It’s like, dude, you have guys like Bublik and myself having success…and it’s entertainment…I don’t really care what people think [about the way] I should play. I know what I should play like. I feel comfortable and I’m happy the way I play.”
Nick sees Kazakhstan’s Alexander Bublik as a kind of kindred spirit. “The thing I love about him….[is] how he carries himself. He’s his own man…He doesn’t take shit from anyone…It’s good to see players that are not conforming to what the sport wants you to play like…Him hitting two first serves at big moments is high percentage for his game. Not hitting a kick serve and then grinding…He’s going to pack stands…He’s going out there being himself…At the end of the day he’s going to look at himself in the mirror and say he’s happy playing that way.”
Quite unlike any other player, Kyrgios has a unique, visceral connection with fans. “When they come to my matches now,” he explains, “They know how I am. I’m quite lighthearted. They know it’s a bit of a show. They just want entertainment…Like a couple screaming out asking normal questions about [the London soccer team] Tottenham Hotspur. It’s a bit odd. It’s crazy out there.
“I’ve people in the front row literally coaching me, telling me ‘that’s all right, good ball, great return, it will work next time, good depth.’ I’m like, ‘Dude, what is going on out here?’…Obviously the fan base is awesome…People are just excited to see tennis again.”
But Kyrgios is not excited by Wimbledon’s courts. He contends, “Grass courts are meant to be ridiculously fast, reward big servers, players that are going to come in, hit nice volleys…Now they’ve completely slowed down the court…They’ve done it obviously for TV. It’s nice to see rallies on the grass…But grass court tennis is serve and volley. It’s the roots of tennis. Tennis grew up on this surface…You should be having rallies on clay, not rallies on grass…[But] they’re not going to change it. Players are just going to have to adapt.”
When Inside Tennis asked Nick if our sport puts too many controls on the personalities in the game, he said, “Tennis locks in these types of players that have so much to give to the sport. It happened for the first three, four years of my career. I was crucified for doing anything out of the ordinary, out of the box, talking to the crowd, hitting between my legs, underarm serve.
“The biggest example is when I hit an underarm serve against Rafa in Acapulco. It was like, ‘[He] disgraced the game, he has no respect for the sport. He’s a disgrace.’ Then you have people like Kei Nishikori hitting underarm serves. It’s like, ‘Oh, he’s so tactically switched on.’
“You have players now that I love watching, like Bublik. You’ve got Tiafoe…These guys who are not conforming. They’re making the sport awesome. Tennis has to get behind these players. Once Djokovic, Federer, Nadal all leave, this sport is going to be in dire need of personalities to take that torch…You look at any other sport, there’s a wide range of players that are marketed. The NBA markets everyone – tennis needs that.
“But…the tennis world is embracing it. The tour knows they have some special people around…that are just exciting to watch. We’ve got the potential to grow, for sure.
“You have to have some people that are relatable, that can bring other fans to watch, people that are just normal. I’m one of those people. Not everyone can be a Federer, a Djokovic or a Nadal. I’m Nick Kyrgios. I know who I am…At the end of my career, I’m going to look back and say, ‘Wow, I was very lucky to have those moments.’”
