Measuring the Kyrgios Effect: Nick's breakthrough stretch notwithstanding, it's still caveat emptor

The Break: Nick Kyrgios fined at the US Open

NEW YORK—Nick Kyrgios has had the summer of his tennis life, even if his quest to win a Grand Slam title at the year’s final major ended in the quarterfinals early last Thursday morning.

A rejuvenated underachiever, Kyrgios won 18 singles matches, along with two doubles titles, between the start of Wimbledon and his US Open exit. He reached a long-awaited, first Grand Slam singles final of his career at the All England Club, bowing out to the now-seven-time champion Novak Djokovic. In Gotham, the 27-year-old Australian knocked out world No. 1 Daniil Medvedev. The word going around was that Kyrgios had emerged as a legitimate contender to slip into the elite group at the very apex of a changing game.

But two different words spring to mind when it comes to Kyrgios: Caveat Emptor. Buyer Beware.

After his most recent loss, a 7-5, 4-6, 7-5, 6-7 (3), 6-4 slugfest with Karen Khachanov, Kyrgios said: “I’m just devastated obviously. Just feel like it was either winning it all or nothing at all, to be honest. It’s just like no other tournament really matters. I feel like I’ve just failed at this event right now. . . I think pretty much every other tournament during the year is a waste of time really.”

That’s not only arrogant, it’s an insult to all those peers to whom Kyrgios obviously feels superior, from the least to the greatest. You might understand someone like Rafael Nadal saying something like that (of course, he’d be the last person to do so), but the one-time Grand Slam finalist and No. 25 ranked player in the world, Nick Kyrgios? Please.

Plaudits to Kyrgios for finally getting his messy act somewhat together this year. Credit him for finally taking the training bull by the horns.

“I definitely think that I’ve improved some of my weaknesses,” he said after his win over Medvedev. “I really analyzed what I had to get better at the start of the year, and I've worked on it really hard. I’m not that player that was once 13 in the world, I think I’m better than that. I think I am.”

But instead of celebrating the unprecedented success he enjoyed this summer, Kyrgios reacted as if he was denied something he deserved. That’s delusional, considering the amount of time, work and discipline that take up so much of every day for a Grand Slam champion. Andy Murray appeared in four Grand Slam finals before winning one, and he’s not the only player to have paid his dues for years before tasting major success. This year’s new identity as a committed professional knocked Kyrgios for a loop.

“I almost don’t know who I am anymore, to be honest, because that’s not me,” he said after one of his wins in New York. “The media, the fans are crazy everywhere I go. I’m trying to balance my personal life as well as my tennis. It’s just a lot.”

Give Kyrgios this, though. He has impeccable timing, equally on display with his touch volleys and warp-speed serves. Going meta, it’s also evident in the way that his renaissance has occurred at a critical juncture in tennis, when at least three of the four men who have dominated the game for two decades seem about to have the baton yanked from their hands.

This summer, Kyrgios repeatedly played up the theme of playing for others. It’s hard to equate those sentiments with the way Kyrgios actually treated the people closest to him at the US Open.

Tennis insiders are on tenterhooks about the challenge of replacing the aging, banged-up members of the Big Four. Just as relevant, the departure of Serena Williams from the Grand Slam stage has left many wondering who might emerge as a new force in the sport, reaching out beyond the endemic tennis fans to promote and grow the game with an ever-widening audience. That helps explain the “Kyrgios effect” we’ve been living with this summer.

Commentators and pundits continually waxed poetic about the lean, 6’4” Canberran’s power, hand skills and creativity, declaring that tennis “needs” him. Tennis officials have bent the rules for Kyrgios, allowing him to get away with numerous punishable offenses, no doubt petrified of having to default a sensational if controversial star from a match with 29,000 sensation-seekers in the house. The public picked up on the media blitz in New York, turning out in droves for his matches. When Kyrgios made a good shot, normally subdued desk jockeys leaped to their feet, punching the air with just as much gusto as the Kyrgios wannabes wearing their caps just like their paragon, backwards with the brim canted up.

The blithe way Kyrgios produced brilliant shots, taking risks to which he seemed oblivious, inspired any number of his peers—including semifinalist Frances Tiafoe—to loosen up the arm, swing a little more freely, go for the shot with no regard for the potential consequences. If Nick can do it, so can I, the reasoning seemed to go. That was a welcome contribution, unlike many of the others Kyrgios has provided.

This summer, Kyrgios repeatedly played up the theme of playing for others. He said after beating Medvedev, “I felt like when I was really struggling mentally, I was very selfish. I felt like, I feel bad, I don’t want to play. Then I looked at the people closest to me and how much I was letting them down, and I didn't want to do that any more.”

It’s hard to equate those sentiments with the way Kyrgios actually treated the people closest to him at the US Open. While his courtside player guest box was filled for every match, Kyrgios treated his most true-blue supporters less like friends and loved ones than dogsbodies. He cursed at them and spat in their direction, demanding that they leap to their feet, clapping and yelling encouragement, as if they were bound by a loyalty oath. His behavior was cruel and humiliating. His vulgar antics hearkened back to something Stefanos Tsitsipas said, after losing to Kyrgios at Wimbledon: “It’s constant bullying. That’s what he does. He bullies the opponents. He was probably a bully at school himself.”

Like many polarizing figures, Kyrgios is expert at offending others while frequently turning prickly and complaining that he doesn’t get enough respect.

“I've just got a lot of people, a lot of support,” he said, “and on the flip side I got a lot of people doubting me and trying to bring me down all the time as well.”

Will Kyrgios and his “people” try to build on the great strides he took as a player this summer? It’s a good question. Here are a few that may be even better: Does tennis really need Nick Kyrgios? Were we so badly off during the period dominated by the classy Roger Federer, or during the rivalry between ultra-professional Pete Sampras and charismatic Andre Agassi?

We don’t know if the Kyrgios effect will snowball, or fade into a pleasant memory of the summer of 2022. Perhaps he has turned a corner, becoming less of an erratic, polarizing talent brimming with resentments, and more of a respectful—and respected—contender with the gravitas of an elite professional.

That will all depend on Kyrgios. The talent is there, should he find the desire and tools to use this magical summer as a career reset. But he has said that he has no interest in rankings, or sub-Slam tournaments. Dejected after his last loss, he declared that he may not play again until the first Grand Slam of next year.

We’ve been down a similar road with him before. Caveat emptor.