6/11/2024
How Challengers and the French Open Nearly Ruined Tennis (and How Carlitos Saved It)
There is a sacred question that has stoked the flames of debate in bars and living rooms and on golf courses for centuries. A question so sacred that one does not mutter its words lightly. It is a last resort. It must be sometimes whispered with care and other times slammed down like a cold draft on a wood table. It is a question that takes many forms:
“What professional sport requires the most athleticism?”
“What pro sport is the hardest?”
“Who are the best athletes?”
While these seem like three different questions, they’re all iterations of the same play run simply out of different formations. This time around, the question sparked from a heated playoff hockey game on T.V. at the local dive, and some in attendance advocated vigorously for hockey players. I have an uncommon and unpopular answer to this question.
French Open 2019 photo by me
Tennis
Georgia is known as a football and baseball state. There was no way to avoid this growing up, but as a golfer and tennis player (a country club kid), I paid close attention to all of Georgia’s great athletic exports. I attended the University of Georgia’s tennis camp throughout middle school hosted at one of the greatest tennis facilities in the country overflowing with SEC and national championship trophies. I watched some of the best D-1 players in the country, who would barely ever sniff the ATP tour, hit backhands for hours on the scorching Georgia hardcourts.
I feel lucky to have grown up during the greatest period in tennis history. Everyone has some bias in this debate, no? That being said, I’m not sure how one watches Rafael Nadal moonwalk over red clay while firing 100 mph forehands and thinks anything other than,
“This is sport. This is art. This is athletic perfection.”
Now you truly know where my allegiances lie. But this is not about the GOAT debate or the athlete debate or anything that might find its way into a First Take summer filler episode. Dial up your local sports bar if that’s what you’re looking for. This is about the worst movie I’ve seen this year and the worst major of the year and athletic perfection gracefully giving it all the finger.
Challengers Challenging For Mediocrity
Ok maybe I really am too full of hot takes, but when the words SET BREAK flashed on the screen before the final, highly anticipated set of tennis between Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig in Challengers, and the scoreboard on the screen simultaneously read that Donaldson had already taken the first game of this final set, I nearly threw a buttered piece of popcorn towards the front of the theater. THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS. THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS. I know that the movie isn’t about tennis; it’s about making a societally encouraged soft porno with Hollywood’s hottest stars. Zero character development. All manufactured sexual tension and bleh. Yet, Challengers takes the piss out of tennis at every turn. So while everyone was drooling over the churro scene in the editing booth, no one noticed that the scoreboard was incorrect? This seems like a minor detail. Gabe get over it, but this mistake encapsulates everything that’s wrong with Challengers and everything that has been wrong with the French Open the past few years.
Set the Stage. Let Them Play.
Tennis is one of the most dramatic sports in the world. Players perform in isolation in front of thousands of fans that toe the line of primal behavior and bourgeoisie standards. There is silence and grace and arguments and luxury advertisements and fist pumps and royalty. Not to mention that the men and women tour the same tournaments together all across the world. Every year, romances kindle and publicly flame out. One such romance between Alexander Zverev and Olga Sharypova ended in particularly ugly fashion after Sharypova claims to have been strangled and chased out of their hotel ahead of the 2019 U.S. Open. A year later, Zverev’s new girlfriend, now ex and mother of his only child, says to have been abused by the German #1 as well. The ATP looked into the former case and concluded that there was insufficient evidence to punish the German star. The latter case was finally settled this past week as Zverev made his run to the French Open final.
As someone who generally believes women (what a sentence), I find it incredibly difficult to watch Zverev hit ace after ace. I squirm as he untangles his multiple gold necklaces from his boyish chin hairs. I can only imagine how his former girlfriends feel. Yet, he is applauded everywhere he goes, despite regularly behaving like a brat towards his coaches and the media and match officials. He consistently confuses the legal courts of Germany with the tennis courts of London or New York, defiantly shutting down reporters with his retort that he’s “won” every one of his court cases. Only an ignorant millionaire would consider being forced to sign a $200,000 check to the German government “winning”. I wonder if the female analysts and courtside reporters who commentate on his matches find themselves conflicted or flat out uncomfortable in his towering presence. I wonder if it has crossed the mind of any of his opponents to spurn the customary handshake at the net after they lose to him. It doesn’t seem like it. Those handshakes in recent years have turned into long embraces and warm exchanges. After all, it’s not their job to be the judge and jury of their fellow competitors.
The ATP is notoriously weak. There are many reasons for why their reach is shorter than that of American sports leagues like the NBA and NFL. One such reason is the deeply ingrained traditions of each major tournament. Every major has its own governing bodies, rules, and standards. The majors existed long before the inception of the professional tour and were typically only for amateur players in early years. Roland-Garros, or the French Open, has made numerous head scratching decisions on their own the past few years. Until I decided to write this, I did not realize how lucky I was to attend the French Open in 2019. My trip came just before RG got a major facelift, and like most facelifts, there were some less than desirable results. 2019 was the final year of Court 1 known as The Bullring and Court 2. It also marked the beginning of many other changes (as noted by Christopher Clarey in 2021). The expansion of the main arena, Court Philippe-Chatrier, created ripples across the hallowed grounds. Some of the changes have been unpopular with attendees and viewers alike with the biggest blemish being the glare that seems to reflect annually off of the empty seats in Philippe-Chatrier. Eventual champion and women’s #1 Iga Swiatek played a blockbuster second round thriller this year against former major champion Naomi Osaka in front of a half-full Chatrier.
Another one of my great frustrations with this year’s French Open was the omission of Dominic Thiem in his final attempt at playing the major. A defining characteristic of the French Open is the grueling nature of its greatest battles. The red clay lends itself to longer rallies and longer matches. One warrior that regularly challenged the resolve of seemingly unshakable competitors like Nadal and Djokovic was nimble Dominic Thiem. The former U.S. Open champion and two time French Open finalist has had his career cut short by injury, and he wished to play the French Open one final time this year. There was no Wild Card entry waiting for him from Roland Garros, and he was unable to qualify for the main draw.
While tennis seems like a sport for the aristocracy, my experiences playing in Georgia and attending the French Open have shaped my opinion differently. It is a sport full of traditions and grace. But for every Roger Federer that glides through life like a walking Burberry advertisement, there is a John Mcenroe screaming in the background or a Serena Williams kicking down doors. There have always been stars that have broken the mold. I remember how easy it was to get tickets to the French Open in 2019. Maybe they were thirty or forty euros. Young Parisians took their shirts off in the early summer sun and yelled mocking quips at the American players. Tennis, when done correctly, is not just a sport for Prince William; it’s a sport for the fans, and no one galvanized the fans of the French Open like the great Rafael Nadal. I know that the tournament draws are somewhat randomized, but for him to face the deplorable and in-form Zverev in the first round of what might be his final French Open frankly ruined the first week of the tournament.
Carlitos
So what does all this have to do with the indomitable PR train of Challengers? Carlos Alcaraz answers the question head on. Just about anyone with a pulse was cheering for the young Spanish sensation on Sunday, and he was well deserving of his first French Open title. Meanwhile, “Sascha” Zverev has long earned a spot in the corner, facing the wall, where he can sit for a few years and consider how to exist on this planet without being a detestable prat. Alcaraz answers every question, both on the court and from the podium, with a smile. Not the sheepish, conceited, Zverev star-athlete kind. The carefree little kid kind. He answers every serve with an even bigger return and every inside-out forehand with a drop shot so delicate that you’d trust him to perform your heart surgery (which one might have needed after his epic semifinal matchup with new world #1 Jannick Sinner).
Part of the reason that Roland Garros looks emptier and emptier on T.V. is because changes have made it more difficult for the average fan to fill the larger courts. While sponsorship money is important for these tournaments, the French Open is a public good. It, at least for me, was an accessible way to see some of my favorite players hit balls at one of the most famous facilities in the world. The average fan gets behind a player and creates an atmosphere that the suits and big sponsors cannot. No Zendaya pretending that Stanford is a reasonable place for a teen sensation to manipulate her boyfriends and improve her tennis prospects. No Luca Guadagnino using tennis only for an overcooked metaphor of a ménage à trois. Understanding tennis at its peak is understanding that the spectacle is baked in. There’s no need for overdramatization or a maybe terrible, maybe genius techno score. Maybe I’m bitter because Tennis has not received the stylized cinematic respect that football or basketball or many other sports have received. There’s no Hoosiers or Rocky for tennis, and I detest that Challengers is now its blockbuster. Yet, there is Carlos Alcaraz. There is beauty and drama and grace and good guys and bad. This French Open was a reminder that all you have to do is set the stage with fans and players who deserve to be there, and let them play.
Challengers
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Carlitos
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
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Carlitos
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