Aryna Sabalenka Under Pressure

Also today: January 26, 1924

Aryna Sabalenka at Wimbledon in 2023. Credit: Adrian Scottow

It felt like a pivotal moment. Aryna Sabalenka had taken a 5-2 first-set lead in yesterday’s Australian Open semi-final against Coco Gauff. Gauff kept the set going with a strong service game for 5-3. Sabalenka lost the first point on her serve, but bounced back with a plus-one backhand winner.

At 30-15, the American struck again. She took advantage of a Sabalenka second serve to drag the Belarusian into a backhand rally, ultimately drawing an unforced error on the ninth shot and putting the game back in play.

Then, still just two points from the set, Sabalenka double-faulted.

The narrative practically writes itself. Aryna hits hard, aims for the lines, and keeps points short. Let her do that, and she will destroy you. Her first five opponents in Melbourne managed a grand total of 16 games against her. On the other hand, if you keep the ball in play, she’ll start pressing, trying too hard to dictate with her serve, going for too much when a smackable groundstroke presents itself.

Gauff, by this reading, is Sabalenka’s nightmare opponent. She won the US Open final by denying the Belarusian one would-be winner after another. Not only can she take Sabalenka’s game away from her, but Coco–at least on a good day–won’t give it back on her own serve. When she lets loose, Gauff wields just as much power as her more tactically aggressive opponent.

As it turned out, Sabalenka did lose that service game. Several twists and turns later, Gauff led the set, 6-5. Only then did Aryna regroup, winning four straight points from 30-love to force a tiebreak, then dropping just two more points to clinch the set. Gauff kept the second set close, but Sabalenka never allowed her to reach break point. The contest closed with a narrative-busting move: Facing match point, Gauff pulled out a 12-stroke rally, the kind of point that has been known to steer her opponent off course. But instead of compounding the damage, Sabalenka came back with two unreturned serves. Game over.

What to believe, then? Was the apparent first-set turning point a reflection of the true Sabalenka? Or is this the new Aryna, who slams the door when challengers sniff opportunity? Or is it something else, the all-too-common story in which someone looks like a clutch hero or a constant choker, only for us to discover, after crunching all the numbers, that she’s impervious to momentum and plays pretty much the same all the time?

Recovering at a disadvantage

Sabalenka’s serve games do follow a pattern after she loses a longish rally. But the results are not entirely straightforward.

On the next point (assuming the lost rally didn’t end the service game), Aryna is more likely to miss her first serve:

Year   1stIn%  post-rallyL-1stIn%  Change  
2019    61.2%               55.9%   -8.6%  
2020    61.5%               57.0%   -7.3%  
2021    58.6%               52.6%  -10.3%  
2022    60.0%               59.9%    0.0%  
2023    61.1%               61.3%    0.4%  
2024    63.3%               62.5%   -1.2%
----  
TOTAL   60.5%               57.6%   -4.8% 

Most of the effect is concentrated in the earlier years of her career on tour. Yesterday, the trend ran in the opposite direction: She made nearly 76% of her first serves overall, but after Gauff won a rally, she landed 88% of them.

The trend is clearer–and persisting to the present–when we look at double faults after losing a rally:

Year     DF%  post-rallyL-DF%  Change  
2019    8.6%            10.4%   20.8%  
2020    6.2%             8.4%   36.9%  
2021    7.9%            11.8%   50.3%  
2022   10.7%            10.1%   -5.5%  
2023    6.2%             7.2%   16.5%  
2024    3.4%             8.3%  144.7%  
----
TOTAL   7.9%             9.6%   22.5%

2022 was Aryna’s year of the yips; she was more likely to bunch double faults together than hit them in particularly nervy spots. (Put another way: Every spot was a nervy one.) The 2024 number will surely come back to earth, but it is still revealing: Sabalenka has made so much progress in this aspect of her game, but her second-serve struggles continue when she faces the threat of getting dragged into another rally.

Some of these effects persist even longer. From those service games that last long enough, here are Sabalenka’s first-in and double-fault percentages two points after losing a long rally:

Year   1stIn%  +2 1stIn%  Change    DF%  +2 DF%  Change  
2019    61.2%      55.8%   -8.8%   8.6%    8.7%    1.2%  
2020    61.5%      50.5%  -17.9%   6.2%    7.2%   17.1%  
2021    58.6%      56.0%   -4.5%   7.9%    8.7%   10.5%  
2022    60.0%      63.1%    5.3%  10.7%    7.8%  -27.1%  
2023    61.1%      59.2%   -3.2%   6.2%    8.4%   35.6%  
2024    63.3%      57.1%   -9.7%   3.4%    2.4%  -30.1%  
----
TOTAL   60.5%      57.1%   -5.6%   7.9%    8.0%    2.0% 

She continues to miss more first serves even two points after the rally setback. To some degree, the memory should have dissipated–after all, something else happened on the intervening point. On the other hand, she’s back in the same court. If a reliable serve didn’t work in the deuce court at 30-love, there’s reason to doubt it at 30-all.

The double fault trends are less clear, in part because our sample size is shrinking and double faults are blessedly rare. If nothing else, it’s safe to conclude that the explosion of double faults on the point after the lost rally doesn’t continue to nearly the same degree.

Tallying the cost

Now, this all seems bad. Sabalenka possesses one of the best first serves in the game; her whole attack is built around it. Her emergence as a superstar came after she got control of the service yips and cut her double faults down to manageable levels. After losing a long rally, she needs her serve more than ever, and–at least by comparison with other situations–it isn’t there for her.

Except… it doesn’t matter! At least not on the first point. Here is the bottom-line figure of service points won:

Year    SPW%  post-rallyL-SPW%  Change  
2019   59.6%             63.8%    7.2%  
2020   60.3%             56.6%   -6.0%  
2021   61.5%             61.3%   -0.3%  
2022   57.2%             59.9%    4.7%  
2023   63.7%             63.9%    0.4%  
2024   66.7%             70.8%    6.3%  
----
TOTAL  60.7%             61.7%    1.6% 

Fewer first serves, but more serve points won. It isn’t supposed to work like that, but Sabalenka bounces back strong from lost rallies. A shift of +1.6% in her favor is solid enough, and it’s even better if you look solely at the last three years.

Part of the explanation is that she tightens up the rest of her game–exactly the opposite of what my off-the-cuff narrative suggests. Under pressure, I hypothesized, she would try too hard to end points. Instead, after losing a long rally, she’s more willing than usual to play another one: She commits 14% fewer plus-one errors than her usual rate, implying a lower rate of aggression when she has an early chance to put the point away.

On the second point after losing a long rally, the bottom-line outcomes are more mixed:

Year    SPW%  +2 SPW%  Change  
2019   59.6%    53.9%   -9.5%  
2020   60.3%    55.3%   -8.3%  
2021   61.5%    58.5%   -4.9%  
2022   57.2%    61.5%    7.4%  
2023   63.7%    60.7%   -4.7%  
2024   66.7%    71.4%    7.1% 
---- 
TOTAL  60.7%    58.2%   -4.0%

While these aren’t as rosy as the next-point results, focus on the last few years. Since the beginning of 2022, Aryna has won more service points than usual when she returns to the serving direction where she recently lost a long rally–despite landing fewer first serves. She is even stingier with plus-one errors on these points, coughing up 29% fewer than usual.

These trends did not hold in yesterday’s semi-final. While Sabalenka made more first serves on the two points after Gauff outlasted her in a rally, fewer of them ended in her favor: 4% less on the first point, 12% less on the second. We can’t read too much into single-match totals with stats like these: 4% is a difference of one point. And Gauff is a far superior returner and baseline player than the typical WTAer, one who is unlikely to lose focus after going toe to toe with Sabalenka for a point or two. The average player pushes Aryna to a seventh shot barely one-tenth of the time; Gauff did so on one of every six points yesterday.

All of this leads us to an unexpected conclusion: Does Aryna Sabalenka have nerves of steel? First serves and double faults are just components in a larger picture; when we measure her results by points won, Sabalenka serves more successfully right after an opponent makes her uncomfortable. The yips are gone, and the on-court histrionics are a diversion that deceived us all. Aryna under pressure may be even more fearsome than her typical, terrifying self.

* * *

January 26, 1924: Suzanne’s longest day

Suzanne Lenglen wasn’t accustomed to spending much time on court. In eight tournaments since the 1923 Championships at Wimbledon, she had lost just ten games. Her doubles matches, especially with net maven Elizabeth Ryan at her side, were often just as lopsided. She never missed, she could put the ball anywhere on the court, and most opponents were lucky just to win a single point.

Lenglen and Ryan in 1925 at Wimbledon. Colorization credit: Women’s Tennis Colorizations

In January 1924, Lenglen eased her way back onto the circuit. Battling some combination of illness, anxiety, and hypochondria, she didn’t return to singles action until February. (She’d win her first three matches before dropping a game.) But she was a celebrity on the French Riviera, and she was prevailed upon to compete in doubles. She won the mixed at the Hotel Beau-Site tournament in Cannes to ring in the new year, and she entered both the women’s doubles–with Ryan–and the mixed at the Hotel Gallia tournament a few weeks later.

On the 26th, Lenglen and Ryan completed their waltz through the draw, defeating a British pair, Phyllis Covell and Dorothy Shepherd-Barron, 6-3, 6-4. Suzanne’s most aggravating foe was another Brit, a line judge with the temerity to call a foot-fault on the five-time Wimbledon champion. She tried to get the man removed and ultimately had to settle for his “voluntary” departure. “It is unfair,” she said. “The English are pigs.”

Her nerves would be tested even more severely in the mixed doubles final. Lenglen partnered Charles Aeschlimann of Switzerland, while Ryan teamed with the 43-year-old Canadian Henry Mayes. Both men were better known on the Riviera than in the tennis world at large, more clubbable than talented. Lenglen and Ryan–herself one of the top few woman players in the world–would be the stars of the show.

Lenglen and Aeschlimann took the first set, 6-4; Ryan and Mayes came back with a 6-1 frame of their own. The underdogs–that is, the team without Suzanne–built up an early lead in the third, thanks to Aeschlimann’s inconsistency and Ryan’s glittering play. Mayes served for a 4-2 advantage, but a lucky netcord halted their momentum, and the deciding set settled into a rhythm it wouldn’t break for 20 more games.

Only at 13-14 did Ryan finally give in. She gifted a double fault to her opponents, and Mayes’s fatigue–he had played a four-set men’s doubles final beforehand–began to tell. Lenglen and Aeschlimann broke serve, securing the 6-4, 1-6, 15-13 victory. It would stand as the longest set of Suzanne’s unparalleled career.

* * *

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Anna Kalinskaya At Her Peak

Also today: Upsets, (partly) explained; January 23, 1924

Anna Kalinskaya in the 2020 Fed Cup qualifying round. Credit: Nuță Lucian

Should we have seen this coming? Of all the surprises in the top half of the 2024 Australian Open women’s draw, Anna Kalinskaya’s run to the quarter-finals stands as one of the biggest. The 25-year-old was ranked 75th entering the tournament, and she had never reached the third round of a major in 13 previous main-draw attempts.

Had we looked closely before the tournament, we wouldn’t have found a title contender, exactly, but we would have identified Kalinskaya as about as dangerous as a 75th-ranked player could possibly be. She finished 2023 on a 9-1 run, reaching the final at the WTA 125 in Tampico, then winning the title at the Midland 125, where she knocked out the up-and-coming Alycia Parks in the semi-finals. 2024 started well, too: The Russian upset top-tenner Barbora Krejcikova in Adelaide, then almost knocked out Daria Kasatkina in a two hour, 51-minute match two days later.

The only reason her official ranking is so low is that she missed nearly four months last summer to a leg injury that she picked up in the third round in Rome. Her two match wins at the Foro Italico pushed her up to 53rd in the world, just short of her career-best 51st, set in 2022. The Elo algorithm, which measures the quality of her wins rather than the number of tournaments she was healthy enough to play, reflects both her pre-injury successes and the more recent hot streak. Kalinskaya came to Melbourne as the 31st-ranked woman on the Elo list.

These alternative rankings put a different spin on her path through the Australian Open draw so far. Here are the results from her first four rounds, in which she appeared to be the underdog three times:

Don’t be fooled!

Elo has some adjustments to make:

Round  Opponent  Elo Rk  Elo vRk  
R16    Paolini       31       37  
R32    Stephens      31       50  
R64    Rus           31      107  
R128   Volynets      31      139

Kalinskaya was hardly an early favorite–Stephens did her the favor of taking out Kasatkina, and Anna Blinkova (who lost to Paolini) eliminated the third-seeded Elena Rybakina. But given how the draw worked out, seeing the Russian’s name in the quarter-finals wasn’t so unlikely after all.

More luck

Kalinskaya has a dangerous forehand and a solid backhand, but she isn’t an aggressive player by the standards of today’s circuit. Her 14 matches logged by the Match Charting Project average 4.2 strokes per point, and that skews low because it includes three meetings with Aryna Sabalenka. Yesterday’s fourth-round match against Paolini took 5.3 strokes per point, and the third-rounder with Stephens was similar.

By Aggression Score, the 25-year-old rates modestly below average, at -17 in rallies and -15 on returns. While she doesn’t have any weaknesses that prevent her from ending points earlier, she’s more comfortable letting the rally develop. When Paolini played along, the results were remarkable: 32 points reached seven shots or more yesterday, and Kalinskaya didn’t end any of them with an unforced error.

The downside of such a game style is that a lot of opponents won’t be so cooperative. Last fall, the Russian lost back-to-back-to-back matches against Ekaterina Alexandrova, Viktoria Hruncakova, and Ashlyn Krueger, three women who opt for big swings and short points. By contrast, consider the Rally Aggression Scores of the quartet Kalinskaya has faced in Melbourne:

Round  Opponent  AggScore  
R16    Paolini         -5  
R32    Stephens       -16  
R64    Rus            -59  
R128   Volynets       -38

Paolini and Stephens have roughly similar profiles to Kalinskaya’s own; Rus and Volynets are even more conservative.

This isn’t just a convenient narrative: Kalinskaya really is better against more passive players. She has played 118 career tour-level matches against women with at least 20 matches in the charting database. Sort them by Rally Aggression Score and separate them into four equal bins, and the Russian’s preferences become clear:

AggScore Range  Match Win%  
57 to 175            35.7%  
0 to 56              46.4%  
-27 to -1            50.0%  
-137 to -27          59.4%

If the whole tour were as patient as she is, the Russian would already be a household name.

Alas, it’s rare to draw four straight players as conservative as the bunch Kalinskaya has faced in Melbourne. And having reached the quarter-finals, her luck has run out. Her next opponent is Qinwen Zheng, who has a career Aggression Score of 27 and upped that number in 2023. It could be worse–fellow quarter-finalists Sabalenka and Dayana Yastremska are triple-digit aggressors–but it is a different sort of challenge than she has faced at the tournament so far.

To win tomorrow, Kalinskaya will need to play as well as she has for the last few months, only a couple of shots earlier in the rally. Otherwise, Zheng will end points on her own terms, and thousands of potential new fans will be convinced that Kalinskaya really is just the 75th best player in the world.

* * *

Why are upsets on the rise?

Only four seeds, and two of the top eight, survived to the Australian Open women’s quarter-finals. Many of the top seeds lost early. This feels like a trend, and it isn’t new.

One plausible explanation is that the field keeps getting stronger. Top-level players now develop all over the world, and coaching and training techniques continue to improve. There are few easy, guaranteed matches, even if Iga Swiatek and Aryna Sabalenka usually(!) make it look that way. I believe this is part of the story.

Another component, I suspect, is the shift in playing styles. I noted a couple of weeks ago when writing about Angelique Kerber is that WTA rally lengths have steadily declined in the last decade. In 2013, the typical point lasted 4.7 strokes; it’s now around 4.3. Shorter points are caused by more risk-taking. Risks don’t always work out, full-power shots go astray, and the better-on-paper player doesn’t always win.

In 2019, I tested a similar theory about men’s results. I split players in four quartiles based on Aggression Score and tallied the upset rate for every pair of player types. When two very aggressive players met, nearly 39% of matches resulted in upsets, compared to 25% when two very passive players met. The true gap isn’t quite that big: given the specific players involved, there should have been a few more upsets among the very aggressive group. But even after adjusting for that, it remained a substantial gap.

It stands to reason that the story would be the same for women. Instead of Aggression Score, I used average rally length. I doubt there’s much difference. I didn’t intend to change gears, I just got halfway through the project before checking what I did the first time.

The most aggressive quartile (1, in the table below) are players who average 3.6 shots per rally or less. The next group (2) ranges from 3.7 to 4.0, then (3) from 4.1 to 4.5, and finally (4) 4.6 strokes and up. The following table shows the frequency of upsets (Upset%) and how the upset rate compares to expectations (U/Exp) for each pair of groups:

Q1  Q2  Upset%  U/Exp  
1   1    40.7%   1.07  
2   1    36.2%   0.99  
2   2    35.7%   0.99  
3   1    35.1%   0.93  
3   2    35.5%   0.97  
3   3    40.9%   1.07  
4   1    37.6%   1.03  
4   2    36.6%   1.02  
4   3    34.6%   0.95  
4   4    34.7%   0.97

(If you look back to the 2019 study, you’ll notice that I did almost everything “backwards” this time — swapping 1 for 4 as the label for the most aggressive group, and calculating results as favorite winning percentages instead of upsets. Sorry about that.)

Matches between very aggressive players do, in fact, result in more upsets than expected. It’s not an overwhelming result, partly because it’s only 7% more than expected, and partly because matches between third-quartile players–those with average rally lengths between 4.1 and 4.5–are just as unexpectedly unpredictable.

I don’t know what to make of the latter finding. I can’t think of any reasonable cause for that other than chance, which casts some doubt on the top-line result as well.

If the upset rate for matches between very aggressive players is a persistent effect, it would give us more upsets on tour today than we saw a decade ago. An increasing number of players fit the hyper-aggressive mold, so there are more matchups between them. The logic seems sound to me, though it may be the case that other sources of player inconsistency outweigh a woman’s particular risk profile.

* * *

January 23, 1924: Debuts and dropshots

Men’s tennis ruled at the early Australian Championships. The tournament had been held since 1905 (as the “Australasian” Championships), but there was no women’s singles until 1922. On January 23rd, midway through the 1924 edition, the press corps was preoccupied with the severity of Gerald Patterson’s sprained ankle and the question of whether Ian McInnes had been practicing.

James O. Anderson, the 1922 singles champion who would win the 1924 edition as well, introduced what was then–at least to the Melbourne Argus–an on-court novelty:

He has developed a new stroke since he last played in Melbourne, and it has proved successful. On the back of the court he makes a pretence of sending in a hard drive, but with a delicate flick of the wrist he drops the ball just over the net, leaving his opponent helpless 30 feet away.

A veritable proto-Alcaraz, was James O.

For the few fans who weren’t solely focused on Australia’s Davis Cuppers, a superstar was emerging before their eyes. Also on the 23rd, 20-year-old Daphne Akhurst made quick work of Violet Mather, advancing to the semi-finals in her first appearance at the Championships.

Akhurst wouldn’t go any further, unable to withstand the heavy forehand of Esna Boyd in the next round. But it was nonetheless a remarkable debut: She won both the women’s and the mixed doubles titles. The correspondent for the Melbourne Age, recapping the mixed final, could hardly contain his admiration:

Miss Akhurst–an artist to her finger tips–belied her delicate mid-Victorian appearance that suggested that she had slipped out of one of Jane Austen’s books by sifting out cayenne pepper strokes from a never-failing supply.

Daphne and Jack Willard–“who ran for every ball, and continued running after he played the ball”–defeated Boyd and Gar Hone in straight sets.

The pair of championships was a harbinger of things to come. Between 1925 and 1931, Akhurst would win five singles titles (losing only in 1927 when she withdrew), four more in the women’s doubles, and another three mixed. The only thing that could stop her were the customs of the day: She married in 1930 and retired a year later. Tragically, she died from pregnancy complications in 1933, at the age of 29.

Daphne is best known these days as the name on the Australian Open women’s singles trophy. For the next several years, there will be many more Akhurst centennials to celebrate.

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Jiri Lehecka’s Excess of Self-Restraint

Also today: January 18, 1924

Jiri Lehecka at the 2023 US Open. Credit: Hameltion

It’s been a wild 2024 so far for Jiri Lehecka. He took a set from Novak Djokovic at the United Cup, beat Jack Draper for his first career ATP title in Adelaide, and then, defending quarter-finalist points at the Australian Open, lost today in the second round to 91st-ranked Alex Michelsen.

Even before the roller-coaster January, it was clear that the Czech was someone to watch. Ranked 23rd on the ATP computer, he’s the fifth-best player on tour under 23. He scored two top-ten victories last year–over Andrey Rublev and Felix Auger-Aliassime–and outlasted Tommy Paul in a gripping third-round five-setter at Wimbledon. For a moment it seemed that Czech men’s tennis had fallen into an uncharacteristic lull; with Lehecka, Tomas Machac, and 18-year-old Jakub Mensik on the rise, the country’s fortunes are headed back in the right direction.

Lehecka’s signature skill is raw power. A feature on the ATP website last February highlighted his average forehand speed of 79.2 miles per hour, a rate that compares to the likes of Rublev, Auger-Aliassime, and Jannik Sinner. He’s so strong that he propels those rockets without even looking like he’s trying. Rublev signals that a big swing is coming with an emphatic grunt; upon ignition, Lehecka demeanor is barely distinguishable from the pre-match warmup.

Yet the eye-popping power hasn’t shown up on the statsheet. According to my forehand potency metric, FHP, Lehecka ranks near the bottom of ATP regulars. His FHP is only 1.4 per match, right behind Diego Schwartzman. Rublev’s FHP per match is ten times higher, at 14.7. Same shot–at least according to the radar gun–but very different results. Converting FHP to points won, Rublev’s forehand earns eight or nine points each match that Lehecka’s forehand does not.

The Czech’s groundstroke winners are some of the prettiest on tour: compact strokes resulting in lasers that opponents can only watch from afar. He can turn on a second serve as well as anyone. But more often, he plays like someone without those natural gifts. One of his favorite shots is the groundstroke from the middle of his court back up the middle, deep. That choice is never a liability, exactly: opponents can rarely respond with an aggressive shot of their own, due in part to Lehecka’s natural power. But it never generates winners, and it doesn’t appear to have positive follow-on effects, either. According to Match Charting Project data, after hitting a down-the-middle forehand, he wins points 47% of the time, roughly in line with tour average.

It isn’t just the forehand. Few ATPers hit so many balls down the middle. The following table shows most of the players ahead of him in the rankings, along with the rates at which they hit groundstrokes in general down the middle (All DTM), and how often they hit forehands down the middle (FH DTM):

Player              All DTM  FH DTM  
Alex de Minaur        35.8%   28.8%  
Jiri Lehecka          34.2%   27.9%  
Holger Rune           33.0%   26.9%  
Jannik Sinner         29.7%   25.7%  
Alexander Zverev      29.4%   28.8%  
Ugo Humbert           29.3%   27.2%  
Cameron Norrie        29.2%   22.8%  
Taylor Fritz          28.7%   26.8%  
Grigor Dimitrov       28.3%   20.5%  
Nicolas Jarry         27.8%   22.5% 

Player              All DTM  FH DTM  
Daniil Medvedev       27.5%   27.8%  
Karen Khachanov       27.0%   22.0%  
Adrian Mannarino      26.8%   25.0%  
Frances Tiafoe        26.7%   21.9%  
Stefanos Tsitsipas    26.4%   22.3%  
Novak Djokovic        26.0%   21.1%  
Carlos Alcaraz        26.0%   22.6%  
Tommy Paul            25.8%   20.3%  
Casper Ruud           25.5%   21.1%  
Andrey Rublev         24.3%   18.1%  
Hubert Hurkacz        21.0%   16.6%

Only de Minaur goes up the middle more often, and he is a very different kind of player. While fellow basher Sinner is near the top of the list, even he is five percentage points less likely than Lehecka to take the conservative route. Rublev earns his baseline success by going to the other extreme. The forehand-specific numbers tell a similar story, except that Zverev and Medvedev join Lehecka and de Minaur near the top.

In theory, a crush-it-deep-down-the-middle strategy could work, but there’s little evidence that it does. The typical tour player wins 46% of the points when they hit a forehand down the middle, versus 56% when they hit a forehand elsewhere. True, the direction of every shot isn’t entirely in their control: some of those down-the-middle forehands are recovery shots. But many more are in the hands of the player who hits them. Lehecka’s power should generate, on average, weaker replies, meaning that his flexibility to choose his next shot is greater than that of his peers.

Against Draper in the Adelaide final, the Czech took a few more chances. Only 30% of his groundstrokes went down the middle, and an awful lot of those were very deep. He won 54%–an unusually high rate–of points in which he hit a forehand or backhand down the middle. He also didn’t miss, committing just one unforced error in that direction for the entire match. Lehecka, similar to the tour as a whole, usually hits unforced errors on about one-tenth of their shots down the middle.

Those numbers sound unsustainable, and today’s match against Michelsen suggests that they were. The young American kept the pressure up, and Lehecka responded by reverting to form. 42% of his groundstrokes went down the middle, he missed one in ten of them, and all told, he won just 45% of those points. Trade in those numbers for his results from the Adelaide final, and the Michelsen match becomes a dead heat.

The Czech, in short, seems to be squandering his raw power. His ace rate is slightly below tour average, his first-serve win percentage even more so. There’s no guarantee that directing more groundstrokes–especially forehands–to the corners would be a net improvement, but the Rublev’s example indicates that there are immense potential gains in that direction.

It isn’t easy to achieve the proper balance between point-winning aggression and not-point-losing passivity. Lehecka has many more years to figure it out. Until he does, we can continue to marvel at the blistering forehands of a player outside the top 20.

* * *

January 18, 1924: In or Out?

One hundred years ago this week, the governing bodies of tennis were busy determining who wasn’t allowed to compete.

Regional associations in the United States were mulling a proposed USLTA rule that would revoke the amateur status of players who earned money writing about the sport. This was much more than a formality: Bill Tilden and Vinnie Richards, two of the strongest men in the game, were among those who earned their livings as journalists. Tennis was only slowly adapting to marquee names who didn’t come from money: Richards had once been suspended for working too closely with a sporting goods company, and Tilden rarely saw eye-to-eye with the men who ruled the federation.

On January 15th, the California LTA endorsed the regulation. The West Coasters tended to be a little less stodgy than the more tradition-oriented East Coast bodies, so the announcement did not bode well for Tilden’s and Richards’s chances of continuing in the amateur ranks. Tilden was ready to call the bluff: The 1925 squad for the all-important Davis Cup would look awfully fragile if the moonlighting journalists weren’t on it.

Another, more concrete decision, came down on the 18th. Molla Mallory, the Norwegian-born American star and seven-time US champion, was ruled ineligible for the Paris Olympics that summer. Tennis was still part of the Games, though 1924 would be its last appearance for decades. The USLTA had asked the International Olympic Committee for clarification: Would Mallory, would had represented Norway in 1912, be able to suit up for her adopted country?

The answer that arrived was negative–and it was worse than that. She couldn’t play for the US, because of her earlier appearances for Norway. But since she was now an American citizen, due to her 1919 marriage to businessman Franklin Mallory, she couldn’t play for Norway either!

The second flap was soon forgotten. Two weeks later, a clarification came from the IOC that Mallory was eligible to represent Norway, as she had been born there. She competed for her native country, losing in the quarter-finals to 18-year-old American sensation Helen Wills. Her chances in the doubles didn’t amount to much, since the rest of the Norwegian team was unknown abroad. With Jack Nielsen, she won a round in the mixed before falling in straight sets to the eventual silver medalists, Richards and Marion Zinderstein.

Richards had to suspend his journalistic activities to compete in Paris, since the IOC already had a policy preventing athletes from getting paid for writing about the Games. He didn’t regret it, winning gold medals in both singles and doubles. Tilden, though, honored his writing contracts and skipped the event. Besides, he said, Davis Cup was more important. He’d rather save energy for that.

Tilden would win the staredown with the USLTA, and famous tennis names would feature as newspaper bylines for years to come. Within a decade, full-time newspapermen would joke that their jobs were in danger from all the competition. In reality, those same anonymous journalists were writing the words that went under the better-known bylines. Only a few star athletes, including Tilden, cranked out their own copy.

Ghostwriting, then, was one of the early ways for “amateur” standouts to cash in on their celebrity. And in part, it was the reason that 1924 was the sport’s last full appearance at the Olympics for six decades. The IOC feared that tennis, for all its pretense to the contrary, had become too professional. As such, it didn’t belong in the Games.

Decades later, players would seize control of their own fates, even earning the right to compete in the Olympics as professionals. By then, the issues pitting athletes against federations would be different, but the movement could trace its roots to Bill Tilden and his insistence that he be allowed to write about tennis for money.

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