It was madness. Bizarre. Crazy. Just downright odd.
It was so much of what Nick Kyrgios seems to be.
The code violations. The loose drop shots, the 200 kilometre second serves (yes, second serves), the audacious shot between his legs when he was down a break in the fifth set, the animated venting towards those supporting him in his player box.
Were those the actions of an "all or nothing", unconventional entertainer who appears hell bent on doing things his way?
Or are they the carefree shots of a bloke who quite simply doesn't give a stuff? Or at the very least, a bloke who doesn't care enough?
Then there was his press conference. To make sense of it I might be better off asking John McEnroe to interpret it for me. After all, according to Kyrgios, "McEnroe knows everything." He said as much a few times – his comments lined with more than a hint of vengeful sarcasm.
McEnroe is probably as confused as the rest of the world. He's been critical of Kyrgios before. On Wednesday night he labelled Kyrgios's efforts "a black eye for the sport", during his role as commentator for ESPN. Naturally, Kyrgios didn't like that.
For me, there is no one in the sporting world more confusing than Kyrgios. Is he sport's greatest entertainer, or sport's most petulant, volatile sook?
I can't even figure out whether I want him to win or lose. Just when I am convinced he's one of the good guys, he does something good guys generally don't do.
There were periods of the fourth set where I swear he'd given up. And, there were glimpses of it again in the fifth when the game was on the line.
Great sportsmen and women just don't do that. They don't know how.
Yet I've read and heard stories of Kyrgios the man that stand in clear opposition to the bratty petulance we too often see on the tennis court.
A few years ago in Paris, he and his brother Christos befriended a teenage boy suffering from alopecia, a rare hair-loss condition. Kyrgios helps raise funds and awareness for the Australia Alopecia Areata Foundation and took the young boy out for dinner with his brother, who also suffers from the condition. They convinced him he should not be ashamed of his condition and after a few days the boy removed his wig.
Similarly, when a young Australian player arrived at Wimbledon, unable to afford the accommodation to play in the tournament, it was Kyrgios who offered him a bed at his Wimbledon house and took care of his expenses.
He's also a young man dedicated to his family. He has the number 74 tattooed on his finger, which he points to the heavens after his wins. It's a tribute to his late grandmother who passed away at the age of 74 just days after he stormed to the quarter-finals at Wimbledon in 2014.
But then there's Kyrgios the tennis player. The enigma. The loose cannon. The madman.
From two sets to love up he lost what looked to be unlosable. His opponent, 32 year old Italian, Andreas Seppi, tried his heart out.
For mine, as the game drew towards its conclusion, the Italian deserved to win. As they say, you generally get what you deserve.
Perhaps that's why Kyrgios has never progressed past the quarter-finals of a grand slam. In fact, he's only ever been as far as the quarters twice.
However, at 21, time is still well and truly on his side.
Some find Kyrgios frustrating, a waste of talent that doesn't get the most out of himself. Others see him as a maniac with a bad attitude. They just can't cop him.
Regardless, almost everyone finds him entertaining. You only had to watch the game with the volume up last night to know that he can bring a crowd to life like few others.
Mind you, the roller coaster of emotions he puts you through can be telling in the end. He left the court to a muffled mix of cheers and boos.
I find him confusing. The most confusing athlete in the world. I just can't figure him out.
I dare say he can't either.
Sam Duncan is a lecturer in sports media.
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