Wimbledon II

Of falcons and foxes

We merely blinked and a fortnight had passed. This could be the summary of every Grand Slam tournament in tennis but this year’s Wimbledon felt particularly dreamlike. Or nightmarish depending on how high a seed you were in the first four days. I’m sending out apologies for a missed newsletter last week that you didn’t notice went missing but first-hand sources (me) are telling me it did. The reason for that were two writing assignments I had for DIE ZEIT, a German weekly newspaper. I wrote a piece on Boris Becker for the 40. anniversary of his first Wimbledon triumph in 1985 and I wrote a text on loneliness amongst tennis players. A subject I touched on briefly in this newsletter: 100 Years of Solitude.

I might come back to both these things, Boris and loneliness (not connected), in the future but for now, let’s focus on Wimbledon. It was a major ravaged by heat and falling stars. While that sounds like a climate crisis rather than a tennis tournament it was in fact a tennis tournament after all. One were seeds fell like I fall for ginger-haired men and unprecedented hot days affected the organic surface that is grass in ways only ruminants can ruminate about (I really need an editor, these puns are atrocious). What I’m most proud of is, however, the fact that it took me two full paragraphs before I finally do what we’ve all been waiting for: Remind you that I and the falcon predicted that Iga Swiatek will win Wimbledon 2025. I’ve been laughed at, I’ve been ridiculed, but as is the case with many trailblazers, I walked through the stark wind with my head held high and I triumphed in the end. Sometimes you succumb to the zeitgeist, sometimes the zeitgeist succumbs to you. I’ll leave this part of my last newsletter from two weeks ago exactly here:

JUNE 30 2025! THE FALCON KNEW

A lot has been made about the falcon that I saw circling above Iga’s head in Bad Homburg. In literature falcons often symbolise victory, success and the ability to overcome challenges. I like to flirt with the idea of believing in witchcraft but the truth is, it’s not superstition that makes me believe in falcons circling people’s head, it’s a lifetime of reading novels.

While that was an important part in my argument that Iga was going to be queen of Wimbledon albeit an irrational one, it wasn’t the only reason I picked her. There were three aspects of her game early on in Bad Homburg that seemed not exactly altered but certainly adjusted. For one, there was the shorter take-back on her forehand. Team Swiatek had worked on shortening her forehand take-back in the off-season already and you could see some difference on that groundstroke in Australia. As is often the case though, during weeks and weeks of competition and pressure and expectations techniques slip. They revert back to what they once were before we made changes to them. A similar thing happened to Coco Gauff on her service motion earlier this year before she cleaned it up again before the clay season.

After an earlier than usual exit at the French Open (semifinal stage is early for Iga, late for most of the other tennis players), Iga and her team used the time before her first grass court match to smooth out the forehand take-back. A simple and early rotation of the upper body is all there is now and it’s all Iga needed to win the most prestigious of the Grand Slam tournaments. Well, not all. There was also the serve. Sometimes as tennis players we work meticulously on a certain aspect of our game, we train and we repeat it, we dream of the movement in our sleep, we perform it in front of the mirror but for inexplicable reasons no matter how much time we spent on it it just doesn’t want to budge. Until one day everything falls into place. It may take weeks, it may take months but all of a sudden it’s there. That’s how it seemed with Iga’s serve during Wimbledon 2025. She had the best serving numbers on the women’s side: Most service games won, most points won when first serve finds the court, high first serve percentages. Where did it all come from? Well, from all those months before when she presumably meditated over her serve like the Dalai Lama meditates on enlightenment. When people say “I don’t know, it just clicked”, it rarely ever really did. These people made it click. They willed it into being. Things don’t just click by the sheer power of wishful thinking and lit candles before holy men. People make things click. Iga made it click.

What a weird word click is when you use it too often.

the peregrine falcon has hunted

The process of change or adjustment is a strange one. You have to be obsessed with it to make it happen, but it won’t fall into place until you let it go. There was a new-found freshness around Iga, the person and the player. A sort of ease we hadn’t seen in her tennis in a while. You could say: 4000 points to defend - gone, number one ranking - gone, French Open title - gone. Or you could say: pressure - gone, expectations - gone, tension - gone. There are almost always two sides to a story. Iga’s story at Wimbledon, however, was that of one. One of sweet, sweet triumph.

Iga seems invincible when she’s playing as well and focused as she did in the semis and final (she only missed a single return on grass during the semis). So losing the final in the manner Amanda did shouldn’t be a knock on Amanda Anisimova’s accomplishment during this fortnight. Iga has done this before, it shouldn’t be a surprise that she can and will do it again. It was just the worst possible combination for Amanda to face. The nerves of a first major final can pour lead in your muscles, a sticky and heavy mass of liquid that won’t adhere to any neurological commands. Combined with Iga’s prowess and ability to play each point like it was Iga’s last was difficult for a young, inexperienced player to overcome. I’m not going into too much detail here because I plan on writing a more in-depth piece on Amanda on Friday. My wish today is that we celebrate Iga for her greatness rather than knock Amanda for a single match when she has won 6 beforehand to get here.

Sinncaraz II

It was the match everyone hoped they’d get. It was the match nobody dared to wish for. And yet, there it was, right in front of our eyes and it was kind of a … dud. At least for a set and half it was before Jannik Sinner found his form. This sounds ludicrous to say about two of the best players on the planet right now but they seemed to be tight. Nerves got to them. The pressure of repeating the drama of the French Open final was too much to bear. Jannik was the first who shook it off. His serve got better, his movement smoother. Carlos Alcaraz, on the other hand, never quite got rid of the tension. You could hear Juan Carlos Ferrero yell at him from the player’s box:

Relajáte, realájate!

Relax, Carlos, relax. But he never did and once he was about to, it was too late. Jannik had found his groove. The average hit point of Jannik’s groundstrokes in the first set was a few feet behind the baseline. We saw him slipping, sliding and falling, not used to being so far back where the green may be greener but also more slippery. Set two, three and four, however, were different. His first serve percentage went up, his winning points percentage on serve did too and eventually Jannik was right back where he belongs, on the baseline and in front of it, controlling it like Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

jannik’s serve numbers in the final OR my growing waist after two weeks of crisps

Paradoxically, the fact that Jannik lost the French Open final made him win Wimbledon. All the little details that separate the two Jannik had adjusted. 55% first serve percentage on average during the French Open became 63% during Wimbledon (75% in the semis against Novak). He got to almost every single drop-shot Carlos hit him with and not only did he get there, he also managed to hit it or push it long and close the net afterwards, making the room visually small for Carlos to pass him. Jannik had said that the few days of preparation before Wimbledon were some of the hardest and most important ones he has had this year. In an interview me and my colleague Moritz got with Jannik, I high-pressed him like Pep Guardiola’s football teams presses their opponents, so high I could feel Wimbledon’s media people breathing down my neck (GO BIG OR GO HOME) until he finally admitted that the main focus in that preparation had been serving and getting quicker on the court, particularly on his first step. I played my questions as intensely and mercilessly as Iga plays points in Wimbledon finals.

He didn’t exactly mention the drop-shots but why else would he try to get a quicker first step if not to try to neutralise Carlos’ big strength? Losses are what drives us forward. Although the greats find the verve to change on top of the game as well. In his press conference, Jannik said that despite his win in the final, he had already spotted parts of Carlos’ game that Carlos does better and that Jannik wants to improve.

Speaking of press conferences. I watched a bunch of them over the course of the last two weeks. Every time Jannik entered the stage it was like the ghost of an old Roman stoic spoke through his freckled, little body. Accepting one’s fate, going back to nature in times of need and the attempt of looking at hard things (like losing that French Open final or the suspension) rationally. Only he can answer whether he’s able to integrate these notions into his life all the time. But the evidence at hand suggests that indeed he can.

hard-hitting questions but harder-hitting jokes

The hardest part about this Sinncaraz rivalry is how loveable both of these young men are. While outwardly different, an extrovert and an introvert, the creative and the machine, at core Jannik and Carlos are humble people who love their families and surround themselves with the best(-smelling) people they can find. And that’s that. I was rooting for Jannik this time because I was worried that if Carlos won again, the rivalry would’ve become a “rivalry”. I was rooting for tennis. But after the match had finished, the champagne corks had been collected and the glasses emptied, after the dances had been danced and hugs had been hugged, I realised as long as we have both of them around, tennis always wins.

Complimenti, Jannik. Jazda, Iga.

Into the summer break we go before the American lights take over und the players’ joints go under.

Things that make me happy:

The photos of our Wimbledon champions’ dance made me tremendously happy. Both smiling and beautiful, beaming and glittery, awkwardly holding each other for an old-fashioned shuffle. It was all I could hope for and more. In the corner of one of their eyes I even thought I spotted a thing long forgotten: The exuberance of youth and in it everything life holds for those who dare to ask for it.

smiles and gucci loafers for days

Things that make me unhappy:

Very few things cannot be remedied by simply glancing at Jannik and Iga’s dance photos. But a 5am wake-up call will do the trick. Highly recommended if you want to throw your day away.

I am looking forward to Friday’s newsletter as I want to talk some more about Amanda Anisimova and Grigor Dimitrov and how hard it really is to win a Grand Slam tournament. If you missed these two here this week, do not despair. 5 more days to go. May you find a perfect Burberry jacket at a vintage shop for under 100 pounds. With strawberry kissed lips I remain…

Yours truly, Andrea