There’s a reason that Matthew Futterman’s book about life on the tennis tour is called “The Cruelest Game.”
“The crucible tennis presents — making people travel the world and then go out and take the court alone — is unique,” Futterman, who covers the sport for The Athletic, said in a recent video interview.
On the court, we can all see the concentration lapses and meltdowns, the players shouting at their coaches and smashing their rackets as a point, game, or set slips away. Behind the scenes, Futterman also sees or hears about the players vomiting from nerves before the match and sobbing in distress afterward.
“Covering tennis has made me think I wouldn’t wish the life of a player on anybody,” he says. “It’s the hardest sport in its own way. The mental and physical combination required is so hard.”
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Drawing on his years covering the sport as well as fresh interviews, Futterman weaves together insights and admissions from top players, coaches, sports psychologists and retired legends like Roger Federer and Andre Agassi. While he emphasizes that he is only reporting on what he’s told and not trying to guess what’s going inside everyone’s heads, the book does indeed put you inside the tormented minds of the players at or scrambling toward the top. (And the hard-earned calm mind of Novak Djokovic.)
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Q. How did the book come about?
One of the lightbulb moments was watching Naomi Osaka struggling and then walking away and watching Ash Barty also walk away from the game. Bjorn Borg left while he was at the top, saying, “This is a lot, and it’s not what I signed up for,” but we always thought of him as a one-off. But he wasn’t. He was the canary in the coal mine. There was Justine Henin and Steffi Graf, and even Pete Sampras was only 31. I’ve covered every other major sport, and the best in the world do not quit at 25 or 30.
Q. Did writing the book change the way you see the players as people?
I come at journalism every day from a place of empathy, but especially with this book, that was a real goal. I see pro tennis basically like the Stanford Prison Experiment. If you wanted to set up a situation where everybody would go crazy, it would look like this: where you’re pulled out of school and play for hours a day and your parents put every dollar they have into your success, and everything’s riding on you and being 24th best in the world isn’t good enough. That will drive you a little mad. And there’s just no hiding in tennis on the court and the tour.
Q. You write about coaches and psychologists and others trying to help players unlock the secrets that will propel them to the top. Is there universal wisdom or does it have to be geared specifically for each player?
Both things are true. The most important universal thing is that there must be some way to separate the results from your identity, to get that message across that you’re a worthwhile person whether you win in the first round or win the finals. But that’s really hard in such a results-oriented sport.
There are things that sound cliché, like staying present, that are true, and controlling your breathing is very important. But there are things that are unique to each person and situation, too. When Amanda Anisimova hired Shadi Soleymani as her physiotherapist, they formed a very close connection, and Shadi was able to get through to her and make her feel seen and heard and understood in ways other people hadn’t.
Ben Crowe [a leadership coach] worked really well with Ash Barty because she’s introspective and a reader and he’s giving articles and books to read. But he has been set up with other players where he knew it wouldn’t work, because that player doesn’t want homework but just wanted him to flip a switch and fix them.
Q. You managed to capture the many layers of Novak Djokovic in one chapter. Did it change how you saw him?
For a lot of years I saw that outer shell: an unattractive personality on the tennis court and his public statements and some crazy positions and didn’t have the most positive view of him.
But I’ve had multiple interactions, including the dinner I write about in the book. And you’ve been in those press conferences at the US Open at 1 a.m., and he’s not a guy giving one-word answers and rushing out; he’s generous with his time. I’ve heard stories from players and other people about his generosity, texting young players tactical advice.
Also, most athletes are singularly focused, but he’s one of the most curious people I’ve ever met. So it all changed my opinion and also broadened it. It doesn’t mean I agree with him about vaccinations or Serbian nationalism, but we all have plenty of contradictions, and I understand he’s just as flawed and complicated as I probably am.
Q. I think he’d like the chapter overall in all its complexities.
I don’t know if he’ll ever read this chapter. But my guess is he wouldn’t like it very much. I don’t know that he has much time for people who have mixed feelings about him.
Q. What have you learned covering the other players that surprised you?
I’m always amazed at the basic stuff that the players don’t do right. I was staying at the same hotel with a top junior player and at breakfast she had sausages and bacon and pancakes on her plate. It’s not what you’d expect. Soleymani got Anisimova to shift her sleep habits by getting her to stop drinking coffee at 10 at night. And she was vegan but eating a lot of potato chips. You’d think world-class athletes would have access to this information.
Last year. I interviewed Alexander Davidovich Fokina when he was winning more and playing better. I asked what happened, and he said he’d been living in Malaga, where he grew up, and practicing with his friends there, but he had moved to Monte Carlo, where other top players like Jannik Sinner were.
He said, “There are all these really good players, and you should see how hard they practice; they’re really intense every day.”
I just started laughing.
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Q. After years of struggle, Felix Auger-Aliassime has reached a new high of fourth in the world. But he hasn’t reached a Grand Slam final or beaten the top players at a Grand Slam and he has won just one tournament all year. Is that success or failure?
That’s the hardest thing about the sport itself. Because of how it’s set up, players in the Top 10 can feel like failures. I don’t think anyone goes into tennis because they want to make the quarterfinals of Wimbledon and be number eight in the world. If you’re one of the ten best basketball players in the world, you might be Jalen Brunson.
Taylor Fritz has said, “I can achieve a lot of things, but if I don’t win a Grand Slam. I haven’t really done crap.”