When Andy Murray berated a social media troll as “a clown” for accusing him and other senior players of extending their careers “just for the money”, he will have had a sympathetic audience in nearly every corner of the locker room.
Injury has already robbed the Australian Open of the perennially fragile Juan Martín del Potro, and Alexander Zverev has put himself on the doubtful list. Kyle Edmund and Jo Konta are carrying injuries that might also put them out of the season’s first slam. This is a tough gig. Of those still standing, several will embark on the Melbourne fortnight this weekend in hope rather than expectation.
As angry as Murray was on behalf of friends and rivals who sweat blood for the love of the game when they might more comfortably be inspecting their retirement portfolios and tee-off times on the Algarve, some younger players give detractors plenty of ammunition.
Murray’s young rebel friend, Nick Kyrgios, is the villain du jour on any slow news day, along with his compatriot Bernard Tomic, who metaphorically waved his millions in front of critics after failing to qualify for the Australian Open two years ago.
Kyrgios’s latest crime was to get bitten by a spider over Christmas before losing limply in the Brisbane International, where he was the defending champion, then winding up media commentators he suspects do not “understand” him. The sulking genius “reportedly spent a few hours at a Canberra hospital”, said one critic, who seemed reluctant to embrace the evidence of the player’s own Instagram post, which showed him with a drip attached to his left arm.
So, when Jeremy Chardy dumped Kyrgios out of the tournament – and the top 50, for the first time in four years – the game’s free radical was primed to respond: “I honestly could not care less.” Kyrgios headed south looking as dispirited as he has done since injury shredded his 2018 season. But it’s the perception of “not caring” that disturbs traditionalists (and midnight trolls). If you don’t care, you don’t rate.
That is why Naomi Osaka’s reaction to one of her most wretched performances – losing in Brisbane to the world No 27, Leisa Tsurenko, in two
one-sided sets – struck a chord across tennis.
In a press conference that should stand as a model of common sense, the US Open champion and world No 5 spoke openly about what looked like a brain-dump under pressure.
“I feel like I had the worst attitude today,” she said. “I feel like I didn’t really know how to cope with not playing well. I don’t know ... I was sulking a little bit? There were moments when I tried not to do that, but then the ball wouldn’t go in and I would go back to being childish.
“I feel like last year I did a lot of that. I’m trying to change it more and I think I had towards the end of last year.” She did, never more memorably than when keeping her cool as Serena Williams had a meltdown across the net in the US Open final.
“I don’t necessarily like watching myself play,” Osaka added. “And I know
that people don’t like to watch people who are so negative.”
To be fair to Kyrgios, he has said similar. He too can be wickedly honest, although he can perhaps come across as a “smart-arse” – which might give him perverse satisfaction.
If Kyrgios and Osaka were to talk about their shared neuroses, he might rediscover the innocent, less cynical swagger that carried him to a sit-up-and-look fourth round win over Rafael Nadal at Wimbledon in 2014. That performance, celebrated everywhere but in the Spaniard’s camp, announced Kyrgios’s arrival – much as an 18-year-old Tomic had done by reaching the quarter-finals there three years earlier.
Both accepted the acclaim and riches, but neither rose to the challenge of delivering fevered expectations. It was as if the more was asked of them, the less they gave. They wanted to thrive on genius alone, which never works.
Tomic initially seemed the more hurt, declaring he was “bored” with the game that had made him rich after Mischa Zverev put him out of Wimbledon in 2017. Echoing Kyrgios, he said, “I couldn’t care less if I make a fourth-round US Open or I lose first round. To me, everything is the same.”
In Melbourne, Kyrgios (No 51 in the world) and Tomic (No 85) will be some way distant from young Alex de Minaur in the nation’s affections. “The Demon” has hustled his way into the top 30 with the sort of energy reminiscent of Lleyton Hewitt, the last Australian to insinuate himself into discussions at the top of the game.
So far, de Minaur has shown no brattish tendencies. Meanwhile, Kyrgios and
Tomic – who have had Hewitt’s conditional support – have gone their own way, and will live or die on a hill of their own making.
Murray, who has travelled their journey, will surely wish them all well. But he will not forgive that midnight troll for claiming he and others are just hanging on for the money.
