Andreas Seppi’s unlikely win was about more than Nick Kyrgios’ faults

Andreas Seppi knows what it’s like to play the straight man. This is a guy, after all, who has shared a doubles court and a Davis Cup locker room with Fabio Fognini for more than a decade.

Seppi hails from the upper tip of Italy, near the country’s borders with Austria and Switzerland. If you had never heard his name, you might think he was Northern European. He’s blond, he’s calm, he’s quiet and his game is more efficient than artistic. “I’m not like a lot of Italians,” the 32-year-old said with a laugh after beating Roger Federer at the Australian Open three years ago in the biggest win of his long career. It was the first time that many fans had ever heard him speak.

In short, Seppi is the type of gentleman that we say we want more of in tennis, but which in reality we completely ignore in favor of the tour’s latest hothead or rascal.

I became a Seppi fan four years ago in Indian Wells when I watched him play one of those hotheads, Ernests Gulbis. I had gone out to see Gulbis, naturally, and he didn’t disappoint; he yelled, he slouched, he harangued the umpire, he made sarcastic remarks and he let loose with a full-on, over-the-head racquet smash. But I came away with more respect than ever for Seppi, who went about his business and never showed any annoyance even as his opponent stalled the proceedings with his antics. Seppi lost to Gulbis in three close sets that day, but he played the gentleman in defeat, too. Not that it mattered to anyone. Afterward, the kids and autograph hounds ran right past him in their pursuit of Gulbis.

On Wednesday night in Melbourne, Seppi was up against tennis’ rascal du jour, Nick Kyrgios. Two years ago at the same event, they played a late-night classic that Seppi lost in 8-6 in the fifth, after being up two sets to love. This time it looked like the result would be the same, only not nearly as close. Kyrgios won the first set 6-1 and took the second set in a tiebreaker. With his serve and his backhand return clicking, he didn’t give Seppi any room to breathe.

In retrospect, it was all a little too easy. The ever-volatile Kyrgios was destined to disrupt the proceedings at some point Down Under. That point came early in the third set. Kyrgios missed a return, started banging his legs with his racquet and then started barking at his trainer. In the next game, he was given a warning for an audible obscenity. Then, at 4-4, on break point, Seppi read a Kyrgios serve perfectly and reflexed a forehand return for a match-changing winner.

The roller-coaster ride had begun. Kyrgios slammed his racquet to the court and was handed a point penalty. The crowd buzzed and booed, but not everyone was upset. In the front row, two teenage girls had caught Kyrgios’ racquet smash on their camera-phones from point-blank range. Visions of viral Facebook and Instagram posts dancing in their heads, they jumped up in celebration. (“This is what they paid for,” Jimmy Connors might have said. “This is what they want.”)

From there, Kyrgios put on another of his perplexing performances. Was he hurt? Was he nervous? Was he trying? In the fourth set, he stood flat-footed during points, hung his head between them, and took his own audience out of the match entirely. But the Aussie rallied in the fifth and eventually reached match point. Even then, though, with Seppi serving for it at 6-5, Kyrgios chose to play a forehand between his legs.

Through all of this, Seppi made hardly a peep. He mumbled to himself after losing serve. He grimaced after missing an easy volley. He put his hands on his hips when a backhand sailed long. If he hadn’t been the guy who was hitting the ball back to Kyrgios, you might not have known he was there at all.

“I was focusing on my game,” Seppi said. “Something happen on court, you have to think about your game.”

After three hours in the shadows, though, Seppi the straight man was finally ready to step into the spotlight. He had blown his chance to serve out the match at 6-5 in the fifth, and had blown a 30-0 love lead while serving at 7-8. Now he faced a match point.

By this stage, Kyrgios was in exhausted-warrior mode, and the crowd was on its feet urging him forward. At 30-30, his brilliantly hooked forehand winner sent the fans back into a frenzy. Instead of following that big forehand up with another, Kyrgios chose to play defense on match point. It was left to Seppi to take a chance, and he did by rifling a down-the-line forehand winner. Kyrgios never saw it coming, and he never recovered. Seppi won the next three games for a win that was as fantastical as its scoreline: 1-6, 6-7 (1), 6-4, 6-2, 10-8.

Brad Gilbert summed it up best in the commentary booth: “I’m surprised [Kyrgios] didn’t take a rip at one of those, but it’s Seppi who takes the rip.”

Seppi, naturally, was less dramatic in his description.

“Yeah, of course, on match point, was a big shot down the line,” he said. “Maybe it was meant to be.”

“He’s a great guy and he deserved it,” Kyrgios said of the Italian.

Only when the match was over did Seppi show what it meant to him. Pointing toward his player box, he bent forward and clenched his fists in joy. Of course, he didn’t milk the moment for too long. By the time he faced the media, Seppi was back to his usual reticent self.

“I think I stepped it up a little bit in the end,” he said with a small smile.

For one night, the gentleman had become a star.