Tennis is Evolving: Where is it Going?

There was a lively discussion on Tennis Channel Live, early in the Australian Open, revolving around the tournament’s growth—a development often attributed to an increasing emphasis on crossover entertainment and hospitality. The first Grand Slam of the year has moved into the forefront of this trend, which is driven partly by the desire to capture a broader, younger audience.

At one point, analyst Lindsay Davenport, the three-time Grand Slam singles champion and former No. 1, weighed in on the AO’s future, casually remarking, “Maybe it’s the first Slam that plays less (fewer matches). . . because Grand Slams can do whatever they want.”

Just another idle or throwaway comment? Not really, as much as some diehard tennis fans would wish it were. The tennis landscape is shifting, the tectonic plates are grinding up against one another. The game is in flux, changing at its core. And it’s only partly because of the relatively new emphasis on the bells and whistles of the fan experience.

Also in evidence: a major labor and wage dispute between the pro players and the keystone Grand Slam events; a rebellion by the elites of the ATP and WTA against the 11-month season, and a growing interest in, and acceptance of, exhibition matches and formats that were once reviled as a major threat to the tours.​

The days when attending a tennis tournament meant mostly strolling around at your leisure in a low-key, sometimes bucolic atmosphere, or even in the intimate confines of a small stadium are, for the most part, over. The transformation has been moving at an accelerated, almost frantic pace. So, while the Australian Open this time around was—at least in the early rounds—a tepid affair, there was revolution in the air.

In court filings published on January 17 (fittingly enough, the first day of main draw play), Tennis Australia settled with the Professional Tennis Players’ Association and in a sense broke ranks with the other three Grand Slams. The PTPA had sued the four majors, accusing them of violating anti-trust laws. The four Slams joined to file a motion to dismiss the PTPA’s lawsuit.

In switching sides—a historic break with the once ironclad alliance among the four majors—TA has promised the group access to "valuable discovery," including the financial records, books and confidential discussions among the former allies. Those will be useful tools if the lawsuit of the PTPA against the other three majors makes it into court. It’s hard to tell how all this will play out, but this is a monumental fracture.

The days when attending a tennis tournament meant mostly strolling around at your leisure in a low-key, sometimes bucolic atmosphere, or even in the intimate confines of a small stadium are, for the most part, over.

While not all ATP players support the PTPA, most of them also support the drive to secure a larger share of tournament revenues, especially at the Grand Slams. Their argument leans heavily on the fact that between 13 and 18 percent of a major tournament’s revenue is allocated to player compensation, while the NBA players are guaranteed a 50 percent revenue share.

However, throwing more money at the players is no guarantee of peace and order. The pros, particularly many of the top stars, are also fed up with the workload demanded by the ATP and WTA. It’s no coincidence that the incessant pressure to increase prize money was a major component in the ATP’s decision to extend the format of the top-tier ATP Masters 1000 series to 12 days, which essentially turns them into two-week tournaments, mimicking the original Grand Slam model.

The problem is that these events are not like the Grand Slams in any significant way. While lesser-ranked players may benefit, the elite pros almost universally dislike the new format.

Stefanos Tsitsipas, the former world No. 3, told reporters in Australia, “I'm not interested in watching 12 days of a Masters 1000. When you turn tournaments into marathons, not everyone is going to follow. Bercy (the fall Paris Masters) is one of the great examples. You get the tournament done in seven days, and everyone is excited. Everyone is watching the tennis. Everyone is following tennis. There's a lot of good matches in a short period of time.”

The long-format Masters have been accused of spreading the talent too thin. (After all, when you go to see Taylor Swift, you don’t also get Drake, Billie Eilish and Bad Bunny on the same day, do you?) A thin program is viable partly because of the focus on the fan experience. You can offer fewer quality matches per day if lots of other things are happening. Also, players have complained about the down time at extended Masters because it’s harder to establish and keep momentum, and it isn’t like they can work much on their games during off days at tournaments.

On the women’s side, the top stars are in open rebellion against the WTA over the system that demands participation in all 10 mandatory/1000-level tournaments, and at least six of the next-tier-down 500 events. Missing one or more of the targets often means forfeiting rankings points.

Top-ranked Aryna Sabalenka has said in no uncertain terms that she will not hesitate to skip some of the 1000 tournaments in the coming year. And No. 2-ranked Iga Swiatek, speaking with reporters in Melbourne, said that the mandatory events and crowded calendar leaves little time to work on her game.

“I don't feel it's possible to do that, you know, in the short period of time that we have between tournaments. Last year I had trouble with making this kind of decision, but this year I'm trying to change my approach.

So I think, for sure, we'll skip some 1000 tournaments. Aryna Sabalenka

Exhibition events, once considered a threat to and the bane of the tournament game, are flourishing, a by-product of tennis evolution. Many top players no longer see the value of playing in lower-tier, tune-up tournaments for majors—and certainly not back-to-back Masters events. Neither Carlos Alcaraz nor Jannik Sinner played an official tournament before the Australian Open. Instead, they prepped, and made a bundle, by facing each other in an exhibition in South Korea.

New exhibition formats, and other unique events like the Australian Open’s 1 Point Slam and US Open’s front-end mixed doubles competition, have been woven into the tennis calendar. Promoters in Brazil have already been hyping a Christmas-time exhibition between Alcaraz and local hero Joao Fonseca.

“Every exhibition is so different,” Sinner said in Australia, defending his decision to forgo tour warm-up events. “You don'’ really have this full match feeling back yet. . You're not nervous and tight before these kinds of matches. . .it’s good that you play again a bit in front of a crowd, which gives you this nice feeling. In the past couple of years, I haven’t played any official match before here (the AO) because of the simple fact that I wanted to have a good off-season.”

These trends may make you wonder why tennis clings to the current tour structure. The one thing it has going for it is that large draws, lengthy tournaments, and a nearly endless season creates jobs for players, and imbues the tours with power. But that power combined with player demands puts pressure on promoters, locking them into an arms race of escalating prize money and incentives to offer fans and also the players something a little different, something unique, something a little more appealing. That’s how you end up with rock concerts at tournaments, and surveillance cameras constantly ready to show players at unguarded moments—a feature that many players at the Australian Open found offensive.

Swiatek described the situation indelicately after one match, saying, “The question is, ‘Are we tennis players, or are we, like, animals in the zoo where they are observed even when they poop.’”

Tournament officials promised to review the camera policy, and there’s no reason to think they won’t. But the media and spectators, particularly television viewers, delight in all the “value-added” aspects of the fan experience, so that barn door is wide open with the horse gone. When players do complain about the intrusion, promoters can say it’s all part of a fan experience that generates more revenue and greater prize money for the pros. Thus, everyone seems more-or-less happy.

Still, when you listen closely you can hear those plates grinding, and the future is difficult to predict.