Bernard Tomic and his tradition-destroying ways

What’s that word we had learned to associate with Aussie tennis players? Gentlemanly. Or was it ‘glorious’? The history of Australian tennis is filled with grand old traditions, that’s for sure. The elegant volleys and groundstrokes of Aussie players from the 50′s, 60′s and 70′s were only matched by the friendliness of those blokes off the court. Then Lleyton Hewitt happened, of course, and the grand old traditions were in danger of coming crashing down. Thankfully, it became possible to pass off Hewitt’s antics as determination, and, in later years, as some kind of twisted form of battle-hardened honour. The sanctity of Australian tradition was preserved, if only by a precarious thread. Today, though, Australian tennis is faced with a threat the like of which it has never seen before: how many more dents can it take before Bernard Tomic‘s tantrums tear it down completely?

After losing 6-4, 6-0 to Florian Mayer in the first round of the Shanghai Masters yesterday, Tomic went on record to say that he only gave ‘about 85%’ in the second set of the match. Why was that, Bernie? Because your 100% was only good enough to make you lose the first set? That’s clever math. Maybe it’s the kind of math that only geniuses can understand? Tomic has had a fair share of brushes with the word ‘genius’ anyway, so that can’t be completely ruled out.

Coming as his latest gaffe does on the heels of a US Open showing that moved his Davis Cup captain Patrick Rafter to call his performance ‘disgraceful’, this is clearly not a good time to be Bernard Tomic. His ranking hasn’t quite plummeted to Donald Young-like lows yet, but most people are actually surprised why it hasn’t. Tomic’s 2012 has been a far cry from his breakout 2011 season, and the worst part is that his downhill slide is showing no signs of abating. Everyone is entitled to a sophomore slump, yes, but those concerned about the future of men’s tennis would’ve been less concerned if Tomic’s year actually resembled a sophomore slump rather than the sophomore crash-and-burn that it is turning into.

Tomic has reached just two quarterfinals this year (he lost both), and has won just one more match in total than he has lost, for an unflattering record of 26 wins to 25 losses. His performances at the Slams have not just been nondescript, they’ve actually caught people’s attention for how bad they’ve been. Rafter wasn’t exaggerating when he called Tomic’s performance at the US Open disgraceful; Tomic actually seemed to be glorifying the concept of ‘tanking’ in a stunningly lacklustre third set, which he lost 6-0. He has made more news for his run-ins with the police (in January he locked himself inside his house to evade five policemen who apparently wanted to beat him up) and for his colourful post-match conferences (after losing in the Wimbledon first round he claimed that his laziness has started to cost him) than for his on-court play. He has even occasionally displayed tell-tale signs of schoolyard bullying, at one point telling a journalist who asked him an uncomfortable question that he’d ‘remember his name’. And all of this, while memories of his father’s shenanigans are still painfully fresh in everyone’s minds. Clearly, endearing himself to the fans or the authorities is nowhere close to being a part of his agenda.

None of this would have been so maddening if it hadn’t been for the oodles of talent that Tomic so obviously possesses. His court sense and feel for the ball have frequently drawn comparisons with Roger Federer and Andy Murray. His backhand slice is already among the best in the world, and his flat/sidespin forehand actually helped him hold his own in some of the forehand-to-forehand exchanges during his loss to Federer at the Australian Open. The serve needs work, yes, and the footwork has room for improvement too, but everyone who watched Tomic bewitch his way to the Wimbledon quarterfinals last year was convinced that he was a special talent. At times, he seems to have so many tools at his disposal that he looks perfectly capable, and willing, of toying with the opponent. When he, along with Milos Raonic, Grigor Dimitrov and Ryan Harrison burst on to the scene at roughly the same time last year, there was no doubt in my mind which player had the most upside. Now, though, it’s hard to figure out whether Tomic will do anything to avoid repeatedly falling on his backside.

Apathetic play and general lack of intent are typically classic symptoms of burnout. But burnout at the age of 19? That’s almost as unheard-of as ejecting your own father from the stands during your match. Tomic seems to redefine the rules with his beguiling game on the court, and rather unfortunately, he also seems to be redefining the rules of how a career arc is supposed to take shape. The one silver lining in this abyss of waste and disappointment is that Tomic at least seems aware of what the problem is. But that leads to yet another damning question: if he knows what the problem is, why is he showing such complete lack of interest in doing something, anything, to overcome it?

Tomic may not be suffering from burnout, but he IS still all of 19 years old. It is entirely possible that the biggest cause of his travails is the simple fact that he’s a kid who hasn’t yet matured into the measured, reasonable persona that the world expects every big-name tennis player to be. And for the sake of the sanctity of the Aussie tennis traditions of old, we should fervently hope that that is indeed the case.