Grigor Dimitrov's growth continues with high-wire victory over Kyrgios

MELBOURNE—On Sunday night, the tennis classroom officially known as Rod Laver Arena witnessed two students furiously scribbling in their notebooks as each issued one question after another. Between them, they would strike 140 winners over the course of nearly three-and-a-half hours. In the end, Grigor Dimitrov had come up with just enough answers to move into the quarterfinals of the Australian Open for the second year in a row, beating Nick Kyrgios 7-6 (3), 7-6 (4), 4-6, 7-6 (4).

“Great atmosphere tonight,” said Dimitrov. “Nice to play on such good conditions. The court played nice. There was no wind. It was not hot. It was not cold. It was just a great match for tennis tonight.”

Dimitrov was the diligent one, the upstanding lad who his entire life had put in time at the library. Like many a devoted student, Dimitrov’s education began in mimicry, devouring no less than the works of the great Roger Federer. Dimitrov had also availed himself of many advisors, in the past working with longstanding coach Roger Rasheed. Now he was with Dani Valliverdu, whose pedigree was ensured by dint of toil with Andy Murray and Tomas Berdych. One imagined that Dimitrov’s papers would be typed impeccably. A sparkling number versus Kyrgios: 64 winners to just 27 unforced errors, nicely over the desired two-to-one ratio.

Kyrgios was the talent, the kid with the goofy hairdo who’d aced (unavoidable pun) an exam that got him into the honors program. Versus Dimitrov, he would rattle off 36 untouchable serves.

But the whole world knew that Kyrgios’ work habits were ocassionally deplorable. It has been particularly disconcerting to see Kygrios enter a venue like the court named for the great Laver—Rod sitting just behind the court—and conduct himself with such anger, contempt, world-weariness. In 20 years of world-class tennis, Laver had likely not behaved as negatively than Kyrgios typically did in the course of a single tournament.

Naturally, Kyrgios did not have a coach, a decision which in some ways is a throwback to the days when Laver and his mates had no use for personal coaches (though as amateurs they did come under the heavy hand of their Davis Cup honcho, Harry Hopman). Look at it from a contemporary lens, though, and it’s yet another case of Kyrgios failing to avail himself of the many resources available to a multi-millionaire. But to him, it’s the way he must go. Said Kyrgios of his desire for freedom, “I feel that's one side that I love. Kind of doing things on my own terms . . . I was in a very structured environment when I was young and I didn't like it. I guess I have just now gone to the other extreme.”

Oh, the burdens of talent, of expectation, of Australia and its set of exemplary tennis values that so shackle and don’t understand the expressive Mr. Kyrgios. Oh Nick, you are such a guilty pleasure, you of the toxic emotions and the remarkably eclectic, brilliant tennis only you can play. Your type is rare, but familiar. Your ancestors include Ilie Nastase, the hot-headed, dazzling Romanian who starred in the ‘70s, and, more recently, Marat Safin, that volatile Russian who won this title in 2005 and often competed as if enduring a root canal.

Nick Kyrgios sat down with Tennis Channel's Mary Carillo last summer for a wide-ranging interview:

Coming into this match, though, Kyrgios had shown more impressive form than Dimitrov. He’d been exceptionally crisp Friday night to beat 2008 Australian Open finalist Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, 7-6 (5), 4-6, 7-6 (6), 7-5. That was a very Kyrgios-esque score—ups, downs, a sublime finish. Figure that he’d earned an A-minus on the mid-term and was keen to make a major statement on native grounds.

Because this is what I believe is Kyrgios’ open secret: he loves tennis, loves it deep in his bones, loves the way he can so vividly express himself with his racquet. Perhaps most of all, Kyrgios loves the chance to prove what a great Aussie he can be in such forums as Davis Cup. On the latter, even Laver would likely concur. But for reasons we probably won’t discover until he’s near retirement, if at all, Kyrgios in his matches often prefers to sulk. No mimicry for him. Regardless, Kyrgios remains must-watch tennis.

Meanwhile, Dimitrov had struggled. In the second round he’d been extended to an 8-6 fifth set by a qualifier, 186th-ranked Mackenzie McDonald. His next match, versus Andrey Rublev, the man who’d beaten Dimitrov at the 2017 US Open, had hardly been better, highlighted by 15 double-faults.

Once upon a time, Dimitrov had his own emotional moments—a complete meltdown in the 2016 Istanbul final had been the nadir—he more recently has assessed his tennis with the care of someone who always showed up early for his professor’s office hours. Following the Rublev match, Dimitrov said, “The bigger upside is it can only get better from now. Hopefully the next match I can be even better. I felt even from the first match to the second, even today, like certain things were working a little bit better, I'm adjusting more.”

At the 2017 US Open, Bethanie Mattek-Sands caught up with Grigor Dimitrov for Tennis Channel:

After Dimitrov snuck out a high quality, break-free first set—45 winners for both players—Kyrgios served in the second at 3-all, 15-40. True to form, a sloppy forehand volley handed Dimitrov the break. But Dimitrov faltered when serving out the set. Another tiebreaker ensued, and Dimitrov cracked it open at 4-all with an elegantly composed inside-in forehand winner.

“You never know how many times you're going to be able to come out on Rod Laver Arena and just play,” said Dimitrov. “That itself gives me the motivation and that kind of kick, hey, man, like, you're here now. Just play.”

A year ago, in the wake of a second-round loss here to Andreas Seppi, Kyrgios had been booed off the court. That wasn’t going to happen this evening. He broke Dimitrov as 2-all in the third, soon enough closing out the set with a love hold, highlighted by three aces each just over 125 miles per hour.

“Sometimes it's unpredictable,” Dimitrov said of Kyrgios’ shot selection process.  “You go along with it and sometimes actually I was smiling, because it's great.”

Now came that moment when the best-of-five format is at its best. Could Kyrgios claw back in and take it a fifth? Would Rod Laver Arena come alive past midnight? Or did Dimitrov have enough to get the helicopter out of the embassy? Kyrgios served at 1-2, 15-30. Doublefault. 15-40. Fault. So what?—a second serve ace sizzled down the T. Then another, and soon it was 2-all.

And even after Dimitrov had broken serve at 3-4—Kyrgios surrendering the game by missing a sitter overhead—to serve for the match at 5-3, Kyrgios rallied once again. Another tiebreaker. Serving at 3-all, Kyrgios ran Dimitrov coast-to-coast, only to net a benign forehand. Dimitrov won the next two points and then, with Kyrgios serving at 4-6, the Bulgarian scorched a forehand crosscourt passing shot. There followed a long hug.

“I just told him to believe in himself,” said Kyrgios. “Sometimes I think he lacks a bit of belief. But I think he's got the game and he's proved to everyone that he can win one of these Slams. So I just told him to believe himself and hopefully he can go all the way.”

As volatile as Kyrgios continued to behave throughout the match, as much as his technique would betray him at odd stages, he’d fought impressively.

It’s often said that you can’t win a Grand Slam tournament in the first week. You can only lose it. Hardly convincing in his first few rounds here, Dimitrov has started to show he might indeed have what it takes to write that big term paper.

Read Joel Drucker and Nina Pantic on TENNIS.com as they report from the Australian Open, and watch them each day on The Daily Mix:

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