To some, tennis’ prize-money distribution debate is over

I have no doubt there’s enough money in the sport to support 300 men’s and women’s singles players, each one with a full-time traveling coach and associated expenses, and still be able to net 100k [a year]. The distribution needs to change a little bit, but that kind of money exists in tennis. Sam Duvall, owner of the WTA 250 in Cleveland and manager of, among others, Caroline Garcia, John Isner and Reilly Opelka, on the top-heavy distribution of prize money in tennis

Not only does “that kind of money” exist, it is being paid at this moment to the players—at least on the ATP side—that Duvall was talking about. This may come as a shock, albeit a pleasant one, if you share the long-standing perception that players ranked outside the Top 150 are struggling to survive. (A list that apparently includes Novak Djokovic.) They are not—unless you believe that $536,883, the amount earned in 2022 by year-end No. 157 James Duckworth, or the $374,047 that No. 200 Stefan Kozlov carried off, represent penury.

The relentless focus on the top-heavy prize-money structure, particularly at Grand Slam tournaments, has been a lively subject for years. Unfortunately, it has overshadowed some major steps the ATP has taken toward a place where players don’t need to make major breakthroughs or rank among the Top 150 in order to make a decent living. The heavy lifting has mostly been done on the ATP Challenger Tour.

In 2022, the ATP boosted prize money for Challengers by nearly 25 percent, to over $11 million. Late last year, the ATP announced an “an unprecedented revamp” for 2023, pouring an additional $9 million (a 75 percent increase) into the tour, bringing the Challenger Tour pot to total to $21.1 million. The year-end earnings reports for 2023 will most likely swell considerably, validating Duvall’s projection. We’re barely into March, and 121 ATP players have earned over $100,000.

The current financial landscape is unrecognizable compared to the lay of the land as recently as 2019. Annual prize-money figures for lower-ranked players are surprisingly hard to come by (my figures for 2022 are from the official, unpublished ATP record). However, My Tennis HQ, a website run by former tennis professionals, compiled the average earnings of different rankings groups between the years 2015-2019. Players ranked No. 101-120 averaged earnings of $298,359, with those ranked No. 141 to 160 averaging $157,616. It’s easy to see how such figures launched a great prize-money distribution debate, given that the game’s Top 5 averaged nearly $8 million in earnings over that stretch of time.

The great prize-money distribution debate is essentially over, at least in the numbers—if not in the minds of those who still don’t like that the very best players earn vastly more than the journeymen and apprentices. The four Grand Slams are at the center of this issue because they have more money to dole out. Like it or not, optics matter. In the eyes of many, the prestige of an event is inseparable from the amount of money on offer, especially for the last man or woman standing.

Cliff Drysdale, the ESPN analyst and former “Handsome Eight” pro who served as the first president of the ATP, recently told me that while he has been a strong supporter of a more even distribution of prize money, he’s not in favor of anything like an equal-pay-for-equal-work approach.

“I like the purity of the prize-money system,” he says. “It’s like, ‘Here’s a lot of money, now you go out and play to win the greatest share of it.’”

Live your dream, but if you can only get to about No. 250 in the world, maybe you shouldn't be making serious money. Maybe it’s time to move on to another profession. I don’t know where the cutoff is, but it has to be around that number. Cliff Drysdale

Duvall cites another factor that has kept upping the ante at the majors—an ongoing game of one-upmanship.

“It’s like they’re in a PR war to see who’s going to award the most prize money,” he says, adding that that the gap between the finalists’ shares of prize money is far too large. The 2022 US Open singles runners-up received $1.3 million, with the champions netting twice that amount. Note, though, that last year’s champions earned far less than the champs in 2019: $3,850,000 then, compared to $2,600,000 now. The sharp decline represents a wider distribution of the overall pot.

Nevertheless, winning a major certainly remains a bonanza.

“The reality is that it’s really all about winning that Grand Slam title,” Duvall said. “If the winner only got 500k more than the finalist, that winner wouldn’t think twice about the difference because they just won a major, which was the ultimate goal.”

Grand Slam performance has an outsized influence on earnings as well as rankings. If you didn’t know better, you might mistake the ATP Top 100 for something like an Old Boys’ Club, pampering its members with guaranteed income: In 2022, those who qualified for direct entry into the four Grand Slams (generally, those ranked No. 104 or better) earned more than $275,000 even if they failed to win a single match. Good for them, but those on the outside looking in—say the 125th-ranked player—might find those numbers somewhat frustrating.

The lower-ranked players have largely won their battle. You no longer need to be in the Top 150 to hire a traveling coach, or to put a physio on the payroll. And bear in mind that ATP events provide free lodging, meals, transportation and other perks. Tour-level players can also earn money in exhibitions, Pro-Ams and even teaching the odd lesson to deep-pocketed recreational players.

But a basic, nagging question remains unanswered: How many players should professional tennis attempt to support? Duvall’s 300 figure seems reasonable. But how do you control entry? Anybody can claim to be an aspiring ATP pro, and it sometimes may seem that everyone does. A 2014 study by the International Tennis Federation found that 14,000 players competed in pro tournaments in 2013. Roughly half of them didn’t earn a single dollar. Growing the game is a noble enterprise, but 14,000? . . . really?

“I have mixed emotions,” Drysdale says of the issue. “Live your dream, but if you can only get to about No. 250 in the world, maybe you shouldn't be making serious money. Maybe it’s time to move on to another profession. I don’t know where the cutoff is, but it has to be around that number.”

That sounds reasonable, but there’s probably no way the ATP, the ITF, the WTA, Wimbledon, or anyone else is going to drive the “tennis bum”—that carefree spirit who trots the globe trying to live off the fruits of a racquet—into extinction.