In answer to the first question – which was: what the hell can you do to retrieve a situation like this other than offer an earnest, pitch‑perfect mea culpa? – Nick Kyrgios had a quite predictable, wordless answer before he had sat down at his press conference on Wednesday. He rocked his head back and laughed self‑deprecatingly as a door swung open and he walked into the room.
He is used to that part, and delivered a media performance to rival his fascinating on-court meltdown against the Italian veteran Andreas Seppi, from whom he took two brisk sets before shambling to a 10-8 defeat in the fifth. In both mediums he displayed virtually every one of his multiple tennis personalities.
First up was fun-loving Nick, caught up in the sheer glory of tennis. “Yeah, it’s obviously disappointing,” he said in considering the defeat. “But, you know, it was ultimately a pretty fun match.” Nobody was entirely buying it, but that is the self-defeating point of so many answers he gives.
There emerged defensive Nick, a little hurt by the suggestion that his home crowd were booing him at the end of his loss because they didn’t know how “banged up” he was, physically, which seemed fair enough to most neutral observers.
Told that John McEnroe claimed he was not trying towards the end, Kyrgios continued on with the injury list (“Well, my body was sore. I was hurting”) but soon twigged: “Was it John McEnroe? Good on him. Great career. Good on him.”
Soon it was time for keeping-it-all-in-perspective Nick: “I’m OK,” he said. “The world keeps spinning. I lost one match.”
Then good old deadpan Nick. Was he still seeing a sports psychologist to help cure him of the brain fades? “I am,” Kyrgios replied, before adding drolly: “It’s going very well.”
Most jarring of all was meta Nick, the one who is acutely aware of what is going to be written about him but still feels compelled to provide ammunition. Are the media being too harsh on him? “No,” he said sarcastically. “I deserve it. I deserve it. I’m a bad guy.”
When the jokes and the goofing are through it is what happens next that really matters: not the opinions of other people who have had great careers. And a coach. Kyrgios needs one, and not for the first time acknowledged as much. “I mean, the coach is always a question mark for me,” said cut‑the-crap-for-a-minute Nick.
“That’s one area where I need to start taking [things] more seriously. I mean, I don’t think there’s anyone in the top 100 without a coach except for me. That needs to change. The mental side of things is big for me. That’s where a coach would be good. Obviously I wasn’t physically 100%, but it’s mental as well. A massive part of it.”
But who? Brad Gilbert? Kyrgios-whisperer Wally Masur? The 21-year-old would not be drawn on a binding promise or even a direct answer, but at least now appears realistic that he is wasting his talent without one and also failing to prepare his body adequately for a legitimate run at grand slam titles.
The dream coaching contender did make an appearance, but only obliquely, when Kyrgios answered a question as to whether he could make a call on his imminent involvement in Davis Cup. “Far too soon,” he said. “I hope I can play, though. I love playing for Rusty [Lleyton Hewitt]. He’s always been there for me.”
Which segues well to philosopher Nick, who made another subtly fascinating appearance, talking about the reasons why he does not already have a someone whipping his game into shape. “I kind of like the freedom of just going out there, doing whatever, going with the flow a little bit,” he said.
In that comment was the only reminder in this whole grave scene that it is, after all, just a game. When you are making it all up as you go along and expressing yourself in the act of playing it, such as Kyrgios does, there is something to be lost by appointing yourself a boss.
However, there was a stronger parallel reality here and Kyrgios need not have admitted it, but he was big enough to do so. It also suffices as an explanation for the mess he finds himself in on days like these: “I just like being comfortable,” he concluded. There he was: honest self‑assessment Nick.
