A Closer Look at Tennis Hindrance Rules: The Sabalenka Case

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A Closer Look at Tennis Hindrance Rules: The Sabalenka Case

During the Australian Open semifinal between Aryna Sabalenka and Elina Svitolina, a rare hindrance call drew attention early in the match.

The ruling came from chair umpire Louise Engzell, who stopped a point due to Sabalenka’s extended vocalization after striking a mishit forehand.

The decision raised questions about the interpretation of the hindrance rule — and the consistency with which it’s enforced.

What Triggered the Call?

The incident occurred when Sabalenka mishit a forehand, sending a slow, deep shot into Svitolina’s court. As the ball floated across the net, Sabalenka let out a vocal reaction that changed pitch — described by the umpire as an “UH-AYA” sound. Engzell ruled that the timing and nature of this sound constituted a hindrance.

While Sabalenka is known for grunting, the issue was not volume but duration and context. Her sound extended into the opponent’s shot preparation time, made more noticeable by the slow speed of the ball.

Sabalenka requested a review and expressed clear frustration, but the decision stood. She did not formally challenge it further.

What the Rules Say

According to ITF Rule 26, a player can be penalized for hindrance if they deliberately or inadvertently interfere with their opponent’s ability to play a shot. Hindrance can be physical or auditory.

Common examples include:

  • Speaking or exclaiming during a rally.

  • Noise that continues beyond ball contact and affects the opponent’s timing or concentration.

  • Equipment or clothing causing a visible or audible distraction.

In this case, the umpire judged that the prolonged sound during the ball’s flight interfered with Svitolina’s ability to prepare for the return.

Why Context Matters

Enforcement of hindrance rules depends heavily on timing and perception. A short grunt at impact is generally allowed. A vocalization that continues while the ball is still in motion is more likely to be penalized — especially if the ball is traveling slowly, giving the opponent more time to notice the sound.

This incident also highlights variability in interpretation. Players like Sabalenka, who naturally grunt or react audibly, may find themselves under closer scrutiny when the pace of play changes.

Summary

  • Hindrance includes audible or visible interference that affects an opponent’s ability to play a shot.

  • Timing and context — particularly ball speed and duration of vocalization — are key to how these calls are assessed.

  • Consistency in enforcement remains a challenge, especially when players’ vocal habits vary widely.

While rare, hindrance calls like this one serve as a reminder for players to be aware of how their presence — and voice — might impact play.

Diesel Has Left the Building

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Diesel Has Left the Building

Wawrinka’s Final Melbourne Stand

Final Grand Slam appearances rarely go well!. Federer’s straight-sets loss at Wimbledon 2021 and Nadal’s quiet Roland Garros 2024 exit are reminders that time spares no one.

Stan Wawrinka’s third-round loss at the 2024 Australian Open ended in defeat, but it struck a different tone—marked by grit, resilience, and quiet appreciation.

At 38, the 2014 champion entered Melbourne as a wildcard and made it matter. His comeback win over 21-year-old Arthur Géa was vintage Wawrinka: physical, composed, and decided in a final-set tiebreak under pressure. He followed it by pushing No. 9 seed Taylor Fritz, winning the second set 6–2 on a packed John Cain Arena before fatigue inevitably set in.

Though the legs faded, the effort never did. Wawrinka kept tracking down volleys, firing that signature backhand, and kicking serves onto the lines until the final point. The crowd responded with affection and volume.

After the match, Fritz called it “amazing” what Wawrinka was still doing. Then came a tribute video of his 2014 title run. Wawrinka stood quietly, took it in, and thanked the fans: “The reason I was still playing was because of you.”

Before walking off, he cracked two beers courtside with Tennis Australia’s Craig Tiley. A simple gesture, but fitting.

Since this was Wawrinka’s final AO in Melbourne, he leaves with dignity intact—and the enduring respect of a crowd that always knew what he brought to the sport.

Well done Diesel!

What Musicians and Tennis Players Have in Common

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What Musicians and Tennis Players Have in Common

And Why “Perfect Practice” Can Get in the Way

At first glance, musicians and tennis players might seem worlds apart. But in both, performance hinges on mastering precise movements under pressure, refining rhythm and timing, and building habits that hold up when it matters most.

And for both, the path to improvement is often misunderstood.

The Problem with Perfection

When learning something new, it’s natural to aim for high standards right away. We often focus on getting every detail right — the form, the technique, the outcome — assuming that precision from the start will accelerate improvement.

But this approach can sometimes backfire.

Those who begin with a more relaxed, exploratory mindset often progress more quickly. Instead of chasing perfection, they give themselves room to experiment, adjust, and adapt. In contrast, striving for flawless execution too early can lead to tension, overthinking, and stalled development.

What the Research Shows

A study at the University of Hong Kong (Capio et al., 2011) explored this exact tension. Two groups of students practiced throwing beanbags at targets. One group began with large, easy targets and progressively moved to smaller ones. The other started hard and eased off over time.

The results? The group that began with easier targets made more progress — in both form and accuracy.

Making the task easier at the beginning didn’t mean they were learning less. It meant they had more room to explore, move, and build confidence before being asked to perform under pressure.

Why It Matters in Tennis (and Beyond)

This is why, in our lessons and clinics, we always emphasize: get the motion right first. You can always add power later.

Trying to hit winners or perfect serves before the basic movement is stable only adds tension. But when the motion is sound, power comes naturally — and sustainably.

This approach mirrors what musicians do when learning a new piece: slow practice, fewer notes, simplified rhythms. First, master the structure. Then, refine.

MacMillan and the Foundations of Motion

Biomechanics coach Gavin MacMillan offers a compelling example of why focusing on foundational movement — not surface-level correction — leads to meaningful change.

He worked with Aryna Sabalenka during a period when her serve and forehand were seen as liabilities. Instead of fine-tuning technique in isolation, MacMillan approached her game holistically, emphasizing spine-driven force production and efficient use of the body’s kinetic chain.

Notably, like our Tennis Whisperer coaches, he views the serve as simply a forehand on a vertical plane. That perspective helped Sabalenka unlock both strokes — not through repetition alone, but by anchoring her movement in principles of balance, force, and flow.

His approach echoes what we teach in early-stage skill development: prioritize quality of motion, and allow more complex or explosive elements to emerge naturally.

What You Can Do

Whether you’re hitting balls or practicing scales, the principle is the same:

  • Start where success is likely — make the challenge achievable first.

  • Prioritize feel and motion — get the body moving well before pushing for output.

  • Add complexity gradually — power, speed, or pressure come later.

It’s not about lowering standards — it’s about aligning the learning process with how humans actually build skill.

Wrap

Musicians and athletes alike face the pressure to perform perfectly. But true growth rarely begins with perfection.

Whether on court or in the practice room, the best results often come from starting simple, building confidence, and progressing with care.

Get the motion right. Let your body learn. The rest will follow naturally.

Next Gen: Michael Zheng’s Long View

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Next Gen: Michael Zheng’s Long View

We wrote earlier about Michael Zheng, the Columbia psychology major who achieved something genuinely rare in college tennis—winning the NCAA singles championship twice in succession.

What unfolded in Melbourne yesterday adds an important second chapter, not because of spectacle, but because of what it says about preparation, priorities, and modern player development.

At the Australian Open, Zheng came through qualifying and then defeated Sebastian Korda in five sets in the first round. It was Zheng’s first main-draw Grand Slam match. It was not Korda’s first experience on the big stage. That contrast mattered.

Composure Over Drama

The match followed a familiar pattern: Zheng established control early, Korda lifted his level, momentum shifted, and the contest tightened. The fourth-set tiebreak was decisive and one-sided, 7-0 to Korda. Less experienced players often unravel after losing a tiebreak so comprehensively. Zheng didn’t. He adjusted his return positioning, stayed patient in longer rallies, and waited for openings rather than forcing them.

In the fifth set, the difference was not power or flair, but decision-making under pressure. Zheng earned his break by attacking second serves decisively, protected his own serve by playing with margin, and finished the match by inducing errors rather than chasing winners. It was controlled tennis, played with clear intent.

College Tennis as Preparation

Zheng has been consistent in how he frames these moments. He has said he felt more nervous in NCAA finals than on Rod Laver Arena, a remark that initially sounds surprising but is revealing. College tennis places athletes in high-pressure environments where matches carry consequences beyond the individual—team results, shared responsibility, and sustained expectation.

That background appears to suit Zheng’s temperament. He is not reliant on a dominant serve or first-strike tennis. His game is built around structure, discipline, and incremental advantage—traits reinforced in college competition and transferable to the professional game.

A Different Development Path

Comparisons with other recent NCAA standouts are inevitable, but Zheng’s pathway is distinct. He is completing a psychology degree at Columbia University (15 credits left), has publicly committed to finishing his studies, and continues to frame tennis as something he is developing alongside education rather than in place of it.

Why This Matters

Zheng’s win is not important because it was dramatic. It matters because it reinforces a broader point: elite performance does not require early specialization at the expense of everything else.

College tennis can still produce players capable of competing with—and defeating—established professionals, particularly when the player arrives with clarity about process and priorities.

What happens next for Zheng is uncertain. Prize money, eligibility questions, and professional opportunities will complicate decisions. But those are secondary issues.

The more durable takeaway is this: a player with a clear sense of self, solid fundamentals, and experience managing pressure over time can step onto the sport’s biggest stages without needing to reinvent himself.

That, quietly, is the real Next Gen story.

What Clancy Taught Me About Character—in Life and in Tennis

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What Clancy Taught Me About Character—in Life and in Tennis

My favourite dog—Clancy, Richard Glover’s beloved kelpie—died this week. It’s a very sad loss. But in remembering Clancy in a recent article, Glover shared something powerful about the meaning of character—not defined by achievements or appearance, but by loyalty, resilience, and quiet courage. Character, as lived by Clancy.

It got me thinking.

We too had a kelpie, called Noopy—christened by Coach Tim when he was just a toddler and couldn’t quite pronounce “Snoopy.” Noopy had all the same traits Clancy was known for: warm, loving, protective. A steady presence who watched over us and the kids without fanfare, and who—like Clancy—seemed to understand that showing up and caring deeply was its own kind of strength.

Glover wrote that in Clancy’s final year, despite a failing body and mounting ailments, Clancy never gave up. He kept going. He still made his way down the hall to guard the sleeping grandchildren. He couldn’t run anymore, but he never lost the will to be useful, to be kind, to love.

That, Glover wrote, is character.

And it struck me—how true this is in tennis, too. It’s not the perfect forehand or the glittering stats that matter most. It’s what happens when you’re under pressure. When you’re down a set, your legs are heavy, the crowd is quiet. Do you fight? Do you stay true to your game, your purpose?

Clancy couldn’t chase the ball anymore, but he still trembled with the desire to. He cared. He tried. And that simple act of trying, of staying true to who he was—that’s character.

In life and in tennis, it’s not about winning. It’s about how you play, and why you keep going.

Thank you, Clancy. And thank you, Noopy. You both taught us more than you knew.

Credit SMH

Jordan Smith Wins the AO’s One-Point Slam — You Honestly Couldn’t Make This Up

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Jordan Smith Wins the AO’s One-Point Slam — You Honestly Couldn’t Make This Up

If tennis ever needed proof that it still knows how to surprise itself, Wednesday night in Melbourne delivered it in neon lights. And on the “Big Stage”.

One point. One million dollars. And a draw so absurdly democratic that a four-time Grand Slam champion, multiple world No. 1s, sports and TV personalities, and weekend warriors all stood on the same court — equal in their vulnerability.

Jordan Smith — a Sydney badge player, well known around Manly Lawn — didn’t just survive the chaos. He won it. And in doing so, he gave the sport one of its most joyous “wait… what?” moments in years at the Australian Open — along with a glorious one-million-dollar payday.

This wasn’t a novelty tucked away on an outside court. This was a packed stadium, a global livestream, and a literal box of cash sitting courtside like a dare. One rally decided everything. Rock, paper, scissors chose the server. Pros got one serve. Miss it — and your million-dollar night evaporated.  And evaporate it did.

Jannik Sinner fell early — to Smith himself — failing to land his lone serve. Coco Gauff exited just as abruptly. Frances Tiafoe joined them. You could almost hear the sound of tennis’s carefully managed hierarchies cracking.

Then came the moment that turned disbelief into legend.  Joanna Garland — world No. 117, qualifier — walked into this thing like a footnote in history and walked out a star. She took down Alexander Zverev with a clean backhand winner. Then she beat Nick Kyrgios. Then Donna Vekić. Two Grand Slam finalists gone. Garland herself looked increasingly stunned, as if watching her own career scroll past in fast-forward.

By the time she reached the final, tennis logic had already packed up and gone home.

Smith, meanwhile, had quietly beaten world No. 71 Pedro Martínez en route — no small thing — yet still stood there like every club player who’s ever joked, “Imagine if…” Then, on the biggest stage of all, Garland missed a backhand on the plus-one.  One swing.  One error.  Game over.

Smith’s reaction said it all: disbelief layered on disbelief. He spoke about investing the money, maybe buying a place with his wife.

What made the night special wasn’t just the upset — it was the mood. Players laughed. They chatted mid-event. They stared at each other in disbelief after points that would normally be buried under pressure and statistics. Garland looked like she was discovering the joy of tennis all over again. Even those who skipped it — like world No. 9 Taylor Fritz — publicly admitted they probably should’ve played.

Seriously — you couldn’t make this stuff up.  Tennis was the real winner!

Congrats, and well done, Jordan. 👏🎾

Credit Getty Images

Deniz & Isaac Step Onto the Big Stage at the AO! 

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Deniz & Isaac Step Onto the Big Stage at the AO! 

Big news from Melbourne Park!

Today, two of our favourite people — Deniz and Isaac — took to the court at the Australian Open’s 1 Point Qualifier, and the spotlight couldn’t have been brighter.

At 5:30 PM on Court 6, they stepped into a vibrant mix of pros, coaches, and celebrities, ready to test themselves against elite competition:

  • Deniz faced Tristan Boyer, the American up-and-comer currently ranked #106 in the world — a formidable challenge and an exciting match-up.

  • Isaac took on Laura Pigossi, a seasoned Brazilian pro who’s been ranked as high as #100 on the WTA Tour. A tough draw, but a golden opportunity.

And yes — Court 6 delivered the full AO experience: chair umpire, ball kids, Hawk-Eye line calling, a raucous crowd… the whole enchilada.

True Wildcards

  • Isaac was invited last week, a testament to his work ethic and rising playing level.

  • Deniz earned her place on the day, winning a fan entry draw on-site — and making the absolute most of it. A true wildcard moment!

Fought Hard. Held Their Own

Alas, neither came away with the win — but their tennis was the real winner today.

To step onto a Grand Slam court and take on world-ranked opponents is no small feat.

Well done, Deniz and Isaac!!

Issac, Coco, Deniz

P.S.
“I might’ve spent more time waving to the crowd and posing for cameras than actually playing tennis — nailed a serve, then totally shanked the backhand   And yes — Coco Gauff was watching. Still not over it.” — Deniz

Pro Tennis Under the Spotlight

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Pro Tennis Under the Spotlight

Every January, tennis opens its season with a fireworks display of headlines: record-breaking prize money, massive global viewership, tennis excellence at its peak.

This year, the Australian Open leads the charge once again with a purse nearing $75 million USD, a 16% leap over 2025’s figures. It sounds extravagant—until you ask a player how much of the pie they’re actually getting.

The Money Mirage

Despite generating more than $1.5 billion annually, the four Grand Slams return just 15–20% of their revenue to players via prize money. Compare this to U.S. pro sports like the NBA, NFL, and MLB, where athletes routinely take home roughly 50% of league revenues. In 2025, the U.S. Open distributed $85 million in prize money—just 15% of its $560 million revenue.

First-round losers walked away with $110,000—generous at face value, but dwarfed by what their team-sport counterparts might earn for a few minutes on the bench.

The “Non-Profit” Dilemma

Grand Slam organizers cite a unique burden: funding the entire tennis ecosystem. Tennis Australia, for example, claims the Australian Open bankrolls youth development, regional events, and national competitions. But that raises a sharper question: where are the results?

Where are the modern-day Rod Lavers, Ken Rosewalls, or Evonne Goolagongs? For all the millions funneled into development, Australia has produced precious few enduring champions in recent decades. Alex de Minaur has delivered flashes of brilliance, but consistent top-5 Australian contenders remain elusive.

If such a massive investment in grassroots and junior tennis is genuinely being made, the return in elite-level success is difficult to see. This disconnect suggests either inefficiency in the coaching system or a lack of accountability in how those funds are deployed. Probably a bit of both.

Even the broader claim—that this money drives participation and community growth—looks shaky in the face of paddle tennis’ rapid global rise. The surge in popularity of padel and pickleball in markets like Europe, the U.S., and even parts of Australia exposes the vulnerability of traditional tennis in engaging new generations.

These more accessible, faster-paced alternatives are thriving without the backing of billion-dollar federations. Their growth questions whether traditional tennis is truly maximizing its resources to expand the sport’s grassroots base—or simply maintaining a legacy structure resistant to change.

That argument gives the Slams some moral high ground, but doesn’t erase the reality: the stars generating the buzz still earn a disproportionately small cut of it.

The Forgotten Majority: Journeymen Players

While headlines focus on million-dollar champions, the majority of players populating Grand Slam draws are journeymen grinding week-to-week. These athletes often shoulder the full burden of travel, accommodation, coaching, and fitness support out of their own pockets.

A first-round payday may briefly offset costs, but it’s hardly sustainable over a full season of international play.

Unlike team-sport professionals, they have no guaranteed salaries, no pensions, no union-backed medical plans. The financial runway for a top-100 player who loses early—and often—is alarmingly short.

Complexity vs. Transparency

Tennis is a decentralized global sport governed by independent entities: ATP, WTA, ITF, and the Grand Slams. Prize money structures vary not only by event tier (250s, 500s, Masters 1000s), but also between the men’s and women’s tours. ATP Masters 1000 events, for instance, offer players a 50% share of profits via structured accounting. The WTA, in contrast, has no such guarantee, relying instead on convoluted formulas with layers of exceptions.

The Grand Slams, unlike ATP events, face no competitive pressure. No rival tournament can outbid Wimbledon for prestige. No city can host a new Grand Slam with better conditions or pay. That static landscape blunts any real leverage for players seeking reform.

Djokovic, Departures, and Divides

Even within the movement for change, unity is elusive. Novak Djokovic—tennis’ most vocal advocate for structural reform—recently departed the PTPA over governance concerns, though the organization continues its antitrust push. His message was clear: tennis players deserve a better deal. “The split in sports like the NBA is 50-50,” Djokovic noted. “Ours is way lower than that.”

A Glimpse at Reform

The Six Kings Slam in Riyadh, a non-sanctioned event that awarded $6 million to the winner, hints at what a more lucrative tennis economy could look like. These events are rare—and peripheral to rankings—but they signal a growing appetite for independent, player-friendly ventures. It’s not hard to imagine a future where players choose cash over clout.

Consider the disruption wrought by LIV Golf, the Saudi-backed tour that lured top golfers away from the PGA Tour with guaranteed payouts and no-cut formats. LIV forced golf’s establishment to adapt—quickly—overhauling prize structures and bonus systems to retain talent.

Tennis, if it ignores similar signs, could find itself facing a comparable challenge. If the existing power brokers continue to resist revenue-sharing reform, they may see players drift toward events that offer autonomy, transparency, and economic reward—even if it costs them ranking points.

The tennis establishment prides itself on tradition and structure, but those values mean little to players burned out by bloated calendars and underwhelming paychecks.

In an era where athletes are increasingly business-savvy, brand-conscious, and unafraid to challenge authority, the emergence of cash-rich, alternative formats may not just complement the tour—it may eventually rival it.

Unlike team sports, tennis is a solitary grind. Players are their own managers, marketers, and medical teams—paying out of pocket for travel, coaching, and physiotherapy. While a select few bank millions, most hover near break-even unless they consistently reach the latter rounds of major events. For every Grand Slam champion, there are dozens of top-100 players whose annual net earnings pale compared to benchwarmers in major leagues.

The sport’s economic model, while cloaked in tradition and pageantry, needs recalibration. Prize money may rise year after year, but until that increase reflects a greater share of revenues to the journeymen players, it’s just another headline—more sizzle than substance.

Wrap

Tennis, for all its global appeal and soaring revenues, still hasn’t cracked the code of equitable compensation. Until it does, the sport’s financial narrative will remain a contradiction: massive profits, modest player cuts, and a growing chorus asking where’s our fair share?

Overcoming Adversity: Weatherald’s Journey to the Baggy Green

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Overcoming Adversity: Weatherald’s Journey to the Baggy Green

Every athlete dreams of reaching the pinnacle of their sport. For Jake Weatherald, that dream now includes a baggy green cap!

This month, Jake received the call-up to Australia’s Test cricket team for the Ashes. It’s the highest honour in Australian cricket—and for Jake, it’s the culmination of a journey defined not by easy ascents, but by resilience through adversity.

From Promise to Pressure

At 22, Weatherald burst onto the scene in the Sheffield Shield final with flair and firepower. A Big Bash century soon followed. To the world, he looked like a star in waiting.  But internally, the pressure mounted. Jake was not just chasing success—he was consumed by it.

Obsessed with improvement and plagued by obsessive-compulsive thinking, his game became a grind. The joy faded. Off the field, even moments of relaxation became strained. Something had to give.

Choosing Courage Over Collapse

By late 2020, Jake made the hardest choice a professional athlete can make: he stepped away.  With support from his wife, SACA, and coaches like Jason Gillespie and Jamie Siddons, Jake began the real work—not on his cover drive, but on his inner world.

“I wasn’t the best human going around… but when I came back, I had perspective,” he reflected.

Rebuilding From the Inside Out

With mentorship from Chris Rogers and Mike Hussey, and a move to Tasmania that required grit and patience, Jake rebuilt not just his technique, but his entire philosophy of batting.

Gone was the fear of failure. In its place: clarity, presence, and belief.  Hard conditions? Elite bowlers? Now, they’re not threats—they’re opportunities.

The Call Every Cricketer Dreams Of

On a quiet Wednesday morning, Weatherald’s phone rang. It was George Bailey.

Jake had been selected to represent Australia in the Ashes Test squad—an elite group in one of the most iconic rivalries in sport.

“I tried to play it cool… but I was screaming in my head,” he admits. “It’s a pipedream.”

Lessons for Every Competitor

  • Perspective is power: Success without identity is fragile.

  • Breakdowns can become breakthroughs.

  • Mental health isn’t separate from performance—it is performance.

  • When the game feels bigger than you, anchor yourself in what matters beyond it.

Wrap

Jake Weatherald’s selection in the Australian Test team is a triumph of both talent and tenacity.  His story reminds us that adversity isn’t the enemy—it’s the crucible that forges champions.  Because the elite don’t just survive tough times—they’re shaped by them.

And when the moment comes—like a call to the Test team—you’re ready. Because you’ve already faced tougher battles. And won.

Good luck Jake!

Fathers, Coaches, and the Fragile Power of Bloodlines

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Fathers, Coaches, and the Fragile Power of Bloodlines in Tennis

D.H. Lawrence and Sigmund Freud made careers analyzing the undercurrents of family life—obsessions, rivalries, love twisted by proximity. But even they might have been stunned by the emotional chess match that unfolds when a parent becomes a full-time tennis coach on the pro tour.

It’s not just a family bond anymore. It’s a partnership under floodlights, fueled by expectation and exposed to global scrutiny. In that world, the line between unconditional love and professional accountability gets dangerously thin.

The Experiment: Tsitsipas and Ivanišević

In 2025, Goran signed on for a trial run with Stefanos Tsitsipas, a two-time Grand Slam finalist struggling to rediscover his form. Ivanišević, a Hall of Fame player and seasoned coach, saw potential—but he had one condition: Apostolos Tsitsipas, Stefanos’ father, had to step away.

It didn’t last long. After a few early losses and public friction over preparation and team culture, Stefanos returned to Apostolos. The emotional familiarity was too powerful to let go.

But that comfort comes with a price.

Bloodlines and Blind Spots

Tsitsipas’ career has been a case study in the dual edge of paternal coaching. Apostolos has spent a decade at his son’s side—traveling, training, and even micromanaging in-match tactics from the box. In 2024, Stefanos snapped, ejecting his father mid-match in Montreal, later blaming him for stagnation and a misfiring forehand. It was an ugly breakup. But less than a year later, he was back.

Why?  Because sometimes the person who raised you is still the one who knows you best—your rhythms, fears, moods, triggers. As Apostolos put it: “I can feel when his mindset starts changing.” That kind of closeness can be irreplaceable—or suffocating.

When It Works

Casper Ruud and his father, Christian, have found a rare balance. Their relationship is relaxed, peer-like. Between matches, they bond over golf, road trips, and shared jokes. Christian coached his son as a child, stepped aside during Casper’s development in Spain, and then returned—not as a controlling figure, but as a trusted guide.

Ben and Bryan Shelton offer another model. Bryan coached Ben through childhood and college, but only joined the tour full-time in 2023. Now, he’s more hands-off: letting fitness coaches run conditioning, skipping dinners so Ben can hang out with friends. The key? Trust and space.

And Alexander Zverev, coached by his father and brother, offers comic relief: “Off the court, I spend zero time with my father. That’s a starting point.” It’s a dynamic that works for them—but not without tension.

The Pioneers: Venus, Serena, and Steffi

This isn’t just a story of sons and fathers. Long before the Tsitsipas saga, Richard Williams was crafting something revolutionary with his daughters, Venus and Serena. He had no pedigree, no federation approval. But he had a vision—and a refusal to compromise.

His relationship with his daughters wasn’t flawless, but it was grounded in empowerment. When Serena eventually added coaches like Patrick Mouratoglou, it wasn’t rejection—it was evolution. Richard never left the foundation.

Then there’s Steffi Graf, who won 22 Grand Slams with her father Peter guiding her rise. But Peter’s controlling behavior, both on and off the court—including a scandal over mismanaged earnings—eventually forced a rupture. Graf kept winning, but she did so by stepping into her independence, privately and professionally.

What’s Really at Stake

These relationships all hinge on a central tension: autonomy versus guidance. As young adults, players need to make their own decisions—to mess up, to rebound, to own their process. But when Dad is coach, critic, and emotional anchor, that space can shrink.

Tsitsipas admitted as much after the breakup: “I’ve been feeling more in control of my own emotions… That’s what gives me the freedom of feeling more alive.” But then the losses piled up, and the freedom felt less like liberation and more like isolation. So he went back.

Wrap

The father-coach role isn’t inherently doomed—or destined for success. It depends on emotional intelligence, timing, boundaries, and a shared willingness to adapt. The best partnerships evolve. The troubled ones get stuck in childhood roles, replayed on match courts.

Even Freud might have needed a toilet break to sort this one out.

Vale Big Tony

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Vale Big Tony

Yesterday, we gathered to celebrate the life of Big Tony — a man whose presence was as solid and generous as the cliffs he loved to climb.

A schoolteacher, bushwalker, climber, and proud father — we met Tony and Jackie on a trip through the Kimberley in 2019. What an adventure that was: four-wheel driving the rugged Gibb River Road from Darwin to Broome, often sleeping on the ground, gazing up at the endless night sky, sharing stories and laughter beneath the stars.

The service at St Stephen’s in Kurrajong, nestled in Tony’s beloved Blue Mountains, was packed to the rafters. The hall overflowed with ex-schoolmates, canoe club members in their bright turquoise jackets, climbers, travelers, and friends from every chapter of his life. A full house for a full life.

Jackie, his beloved wife of 41 years, was the steady heart of the day. Steph, their daughter, delivered a deeply moving tribute — eloquent, brave, and loving. As Rob whispered, “a hard act to follow.” Andrew, Tony’s son, was ever-present — in the recollections, in the warmth of those around him, in the legacy his dad leaves behind.

Wildflowers filled the church and later  at the wake at the Kurrajong Bowlo, a fitting echo of the wild beauty Tony loved so dearly.

Both of us felt embraced by the community, and honored to be part of such a meaningful farewell.

Rest well, Big Tony. You lived large, loved deeply, and reminded us all to look up at the stars a little longer.

Reinventing Mixed Doubles: A New Era at the US Open

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25 Teams Enter Reimagined US Open Mixed Doubles Championship

A total of 25 teams have officially entered the reimagined US Open Mixed Doubles Championship.

On July 28, the top eight teams will earn direct entry into the main draw—not for their doubles prowess, but based purely on their combined singles rankings. That’s right—no track record as a team, no doubles chemistry required. Just individual star power.

This format flips the script, spotlighting raw talent and high-profile names over tested partnerships. It’s less about traditional doubles strategy, more about marquee matchups and unexpected pairings. In short, it’s part tournament, part celebrity exhibition.

The remaining eight teams will be selected via wild card, with announcements coming soon. If you thought mixed doubles was all finesse and teamwork—think again.

US Open Mixed 2025

Tennis Coach of the Year… and It’s a Robot

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Meet the Future of Tennis: Tenniix AI Robot

Imagine a hitting partner who never misses a session, never complains, never gets tired, and always does exactly what you want — no questions asked.

Tenniix, is the world’s first vision-based AI tennis robot — a revolutionary training partner built to elevate your performance, sharpen your skills, and simulate match play like never before.

Precision Meets Intelligence

T-APEX Tenniix uses advanced vision and UWB hybrid tracking to deliver pinpoint ball placement and real-time responsiveness. With over 1,000 built-in drills, it covers every aspect of your training — from baseline consistency to net reflexes.

Smart, Lightweight, and Mobile

Weighing just 15.4 lbs, this ultra-portable unit travels easily and adapts seamlessly to any court — hard, clay, or grass. Whether you’re training at home or prepping courtside, Tenniix moves with you.

Personalized Coaching On-Demand

Experience smart match mode that simulates real opponents and challenges your tactical awareness. Voice and gesture controls allow hands-free operation, keeping your rhythm uninterrupted.

Choose Your Perfect Fit

  • Basic – $699

  • Pro – $999

  • Ultra – $1,499
    Each model offers progressive levels of features, from standard drills to full-court dynamic simulation — all at a fraction of the cost of hiring a pro full-time.

Available July 2025

 

Next Gen: Victoria Mboko

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Next Gen: Victoria Mboko

Victoria Mboko isn’t just winning matches—she’s changing how young players approach the game. At just 18, the Canadian rising star is handling her first Grand Slam like a seasoned vet, ripping backhands past top players and treating major moments like business as usual.

After bulldozing through qualifying and knocking out a former Wimbledon quarterfinalist in her French Open debut, Mboko followed it up by taking down Eva Lys in straight sets. That’s not luck. That’s a game—and a mindset—built to last.

Family First: The Mboko

The Mboko family isn’t just part of her support system—they’re the foundation of everything she’s doing right now. Her parents, Cyprien and Godée, made the leap from war-torn Congo to North America, enduring years of separation before settling in the Toronto area. Her father worked overnight shifts to get his kids to training. That’s not a detail—it’s a defining trait of this story.

Victoria is the youngest of four, all of whom played tennis. Her sister Gracia, now a private equity consultant, played at the University of Denver. Her brother Kevin is a coach. The expectations were high, but so was the support. At nine years old, Victoria stepped into a women’s tournament—just because there was an open spot. She lost 6-0, 6-0 to her sister, but walked off like the result should’ve been reversed.

Why Her Game Works

Lightning Feet, Locked-In Mind

Mboko’s footwork is sharp—prep steps, split steps, recovery, all on point. She’s not just fast, she’s balanced, which gives her time and freedom to strike. Movement wins on clay, and she’s already in the conversation with the best.

Mentally, she’s using classic sports psychology techniques—reframing pressure, staying in the present, even using “pretend it’s not a Slam” tactics to keep herself loose and aggressive.

Shot Variety and Smart Adjustments

Though she leans toward aggressive baseline play, Mboko’s also shown flashes of clay-court savvy—mixing in drop shots, slices, and some surprisingly disruptive forehand touch shots. That’s not instinct. That’s high-level tactical awareness.

Habits That Power Performance

Every day starts early: breakfast, warm-up, 30-minute hit, then time alone. These aren’t rituals for show—they’re identity-based habits, straight from the Atomic Habits playbook. She’s building repeatable success with systems, not superstition.

What Mboko Can Teach Every Competitive Player

Victoria Mboko isn’t just a next gen player —she’s a walking blueprint for how to do things right. Here’s what you should be learning from her playbook:

  • Play Big, Think Small
    She treats major matches like just another day at the office. That’s not downplaying the moment—it’s owning it. Reframing pressure is a skill, and she’s mastering it early.

  • Let Your Feet Set the Tone
    Her movement isn’t just quick—it’s efficient. Clean footwork keeps her balanced, in control, and ready to strike. Want consistency? Start with your balance.

  • Build Your Day Like You Build Your Game
    From wake-up to match time, Mboko’s routine is dialed. No wasted energy, no surprises. It’s not superstition—it’s system. Want results? Lock in your process.

  • Train the Mind Like the Body
    She doesn’t just hit balls—she works on staying present, brushing off mistakes, and resetting fast. That’s elite-level emotional control, and it wins matches.

  • Lean Into Your People
    Her family keeps her grounded, not distracted. A strong circle isn’t hype—they’re your buffer from chaos. If your support crew isn’t helping you stay calm and sharp, re-evaluate.

Wrap

Mboko’s rise isn’t magic. It’s movement, mindset, and habits—executed with purpose, every single day.

The Last Shot: Pete’s Frame of Rafa’s Farewell

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The Last Shot: Pete’s Frame of Farewell

In the quiet crescendo of a historic career, Rafael Nadal took the stage one final time at his fifth farewell — not with a racket in hand, but with words, memories, and gratitude. It wasn’t a match. It was a moment.
Behind the scenes stood Pete — a true Manly boy and longtime ATP photographer — the silent historian of the tour. For years, Pete has captured the thunderous forehands, the silent struggles, the raw elation of champions. But at Rafa’s presentation, it was Pete who found himself unexpectedly within the story.
One photo said it all: Rafa center stage, emotion in his eyes… and in the background, a figure with a camera — Pete — caught mid-frame, forever embedded in the memory he was trying to preserve.
In that image, the lines between subject and storyteller blurred. It was a quiet tribute not just to Rafa’s journey, but to the unsung artists like Pete who frame greatness, one shutter click at a time.
This wasn’t just Rafa’s goodbye. It was a nod to those who make goodbyes unforgettable.