In early January when Nick Kyrgios began his season with a second-round exit at the Brisbane International – a defeat that saw him drop out of the world’s top 50 and left him unseeded for the Australian Open – the marvellously talented and often frustrating player had a classically laconic reply to his supposedly tough predicament: ‘‘I honestly could not care less.” He didn’t appear to be joking.
Looking on from the outside, Kyrgios – soon to turn 24 – can seem to too easily adopt a laissez-faire attitude to his craft, much to the annoyance of us mere mortals who dream of big things while whacking tennis balls mid-week. But it's also a mindset that doesn’t appear put on.
No one really knows what’s destined for Kyrgios over the next decade during his stint on the international tennis circuit. Most pundits are waiting for his inevitable progression to the final weekend at one of the sport’s four majors. But those chances are limited to only four times a year.
The brutal truth is that nothing is guaranteed, not even for professional tennis players with an array of shots you'd kill for. When assessing Kyrgios, it's almost becoming a case of it's better to sit back, strap yourself in and enjoy the ride. After all, the Kyrgios Show is like the main feature at a leading film festival.
When Kyrgios surged to the Wimbledon quarter-finals five years ago, in some ways it was not a question of when the then 19-year-old would win a tennis major, but more an issue of just how many he would finish with.
With the Australian yet to cement a position in the cherished world’s top 10 and the sport’s father figures (Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal) tapping into their superannuation for some late career riches, the inevitable just-when-will-it-happen question lingers for a player widely considered one of the most talented in the game, certainly of those aged 25 or under.
If Kyrgios never goes on to win a major – and I'm biting my tongue writing this – just how much will it really matter?
This conundrum is partly due to the sport’s endless quest to evaluate individual success by results at the majors. There’s tournament wins on the WTA or ATP tours, moments of brilliance at the myriad teams events, but then there are the eye-catching triumphs across two weeks at either Melbourne Park, Roland Garros, Wimbledon or Flushing Meadows. It’s no surprise that Andy Murray’s Wimbledon victory in 2013 – a famous victory that ended Great Britain’s near 80-year men's singles drought at the All England Lawn Tennis & Croquet Club – was met with widespread acclaim. Plainly and simply, it meant a hell of a lot.
When evaluating Kyrgios at the early-to-mid-career stage it's worth reflecting on another extraordinary Australian talent of modern times who couldn't quite get there to claim a major himself.
As time goes on, the achievements of Mark Philippoussis can be seen in a slightly different light. For a man who reached two major finals and helped Australia win two Davis Cups by twice winning the deciding rubber on the final Sunday, it’s becoming harder – and probably unfair – to label him as an unfulfilled talent. Now the same rationale could apply to Kyrgios, whose best grand slam results remain two quarter-final berths.
The other interesting component now about Kyrgios is that, more and more, he’s meeting his part of the intrinsic equation that exists between professional sportspeople and the paying public: providing extraordinary entertainment and leaving fans sated and satisfied. He’s close to the most captivating player in the game and his catalogue of ridiculous shots to win points, or merely save them in style, is growing by the week.
Philippoussis is a long time retired and has lived through his share of ups and downs. It was on one trip to Melbourne in late 2014 to help promote his appearance at the Australian Open legends event – a staple for many retired types – that Scud gave a fascinating insight into his peace of mind. Reading his words a few years later, there was a distinct lack of regret for what might have been.
"If my guardian angel came to me and said let me make a deal with with you: 'You're going to be a pro tennis player, get to eight in the world, you'll lose in the final of two grand slams and win two Davis Cups but you'll get injured and your career would end sooner than you want, would you take that?' I'm like absolutely yes. I'm on board," Philippoussis said five years ago.
Or more recently, when asked whether he had any advice for young Australians such as Kyrgios, Phillipoussis’ words to London’s Sunday Telegraph were telling. "Something I've realised now is that you work incredibly hard to try and fulfil your dreams of becoming a professional tennis player and then you do," he said. "And, unfortunately, it's very easy to forget about the reasons you started playing in the first place.
"You get caught up in all the politics and everything like that. It's important to remember why you fell in love with the sport, which for me was just the pure thing of getting on the court and playing."
Now does that sound like the attitude of an unfulfilled or even an unhappy talent?
We can rightly look back fondly on the deeds of Philippoussis. As for Kyrgios, we may as well enjoy the ride (both his and ours) and celebrate an immense talent.