Nick Kyrgios, enough. This has to stop. He has to stop. For his own sake, for tennis', for ours.
Someone, somewhere along the line, must exert the moral authority to say so.
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Nick Kyrgios throws racquet
Nick Kyrgios of Australia lost in five sets to Italian veteran Andreas Seppi, on day three of the 2017 Australian Open at Melbourne Park.
But who? It probably won't be those in his immediate inner circle. They love him for who he is. Where others see issues, they see merely foibles. Besides, around Kyrgios, as around most talented young tennis players, a cottage industry has grown up. Here's one industry no one can afford to lose.
It won't be the psychologists he has been working with since the end of last year. They've been in his mind and on his case. They would have stopped him by now, if they were going to stop him at all.
It probably won't be the ATP. Altogether, they'd rather tennis players played tennis. True, they hit him with an eight-week suspension late last year, immediately mitigated to three, mostly covering the part of the year when there is not much tennis to be played anyway.
It probably won't be Tennis Australia. It has a major tournament to sustain, a Davis Cup campaign to pursue, a program to rationalise. Talent such as Kyrgios' doesn't happen along very often. That is not to say TA lacks compassion, only that all things considered, it would rather he was out there.
Besides, in the lore of the times, Kyrgios melting down has become as compelling as Kyrgios firing up. Everyone watches, some to admire the car, some in anticipation of the crash. This is a shame, because the car is a thing of beauty, so sleek and slick. But it is accident-prone.
At least one betting agency already has framed a market on how far Kyrgios will fall this year. They're barracking for the crash.
What other players, Australian and international, think to have their thunder repeatedly stolen, we will probably have to wait until the autobiographies. But you can't imagine they applaud it.
It won't be his coach. He doesn't have one. In any case, a coach can only help him with playing tennis, not with jacking up about it.
It comes back to one person, Nick Kyrgios. In this column's few and arms-length dealings with him, he's not a bad kid. But kid, nonetheless. He's immature. He sulks. He pouts. He takes his bat and ball and goes home, half-way through matches. He blames everybody else. He says he doesn't even like the game, when you can be pretty sure he means he doesn't like it when the game doesn't go his way. Whether or not he really likes tennis, he is not coping with the privileges and obligations of being a tennis player.
He's not the first to behave this way, but he is the latest in a line. Growing up in public is hard, harder now than ever. For some, it's too hard.
So walk away, Nick. Not just to the side of the court. Not to the naughty corner. Not to detention. Walk away from the game. Walk away from your tennis persona. Take a gap year. Work out who you are, and what you want, and how much you want it. See if playing pick-up games of basketball really is a life.
Come back when you can live not just with all those people and forces that are ruining your life, but with yourself. Come back when you want to play tennis as much as everyone else wants you to play tennis. Come back when you're reconciled. Come back when you're ready.
We'll wait.
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