Before the 24-year-old Italian arrived at the All England Club a fortnight ago, only nine men had mounted a successful defence of the singles title in the open era.

Earning a place on the roll call of back-to-back champions would put Sinner among elevated company, alongside Rod Laver, John Newcombe, Bjorn Borg, John McEnroe, Boris Becker, Pete Sampras, Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic and Carlos Alcaraz as one of the finest exponents of grass-court tennis in modern history. 

Yet the auspices were mixed for the returning champion. 

On a brutally hot day in Paris, a calamitous meltdown from two sets to love and 5-1 up against Argentina’s Juan Manuel Cerúndolo in round two of the French Open had left Sinner smarting. It was his second successive grand slam disappointment of the season, following a semi-final loss to Djokovic at the Australian Open in January that had derailed his bid for a third straight title in Melbourne. Yet those defeats bookended a four-month period in which Sinner was untouchable, compiling a 30-match winning streak that brought five consecutive Masters 1000 titles. 

It was impossible to know which version of the Italian would turn up at Wimbledon, but he arrived there facing questions about his form and fitness that would have been unthinkable only a few weeks earlier.

There was pressure, too. Anything less than a successful title defence would have left Sinner in the curious position of being a dominant world No 1 without being the current holder of a major title. That Alcaraz, his chief rival, was absent through injury for a second consecutive grand slam event would only have accentuated the paradox.

Given the circumstances, Sinner could probably have lived without opening his defence against the redoubtable Miomir Kecmanovic, a solid former top-30 player who embodied a quiet but growing belief in the locker room that the top seed could be beaten. That sentiment doubtless hardened when Kecmanovic briefly threatened a seismic upset, taking a two sets to one lead against Sinner before falling in five.

Yet, despite scorching temperatures in south-west London throughout the first week, Sinner did not drop another set en route to the final. Once there, the defending champion delivered the perfect riposte to his doubters, earning his fifth grand slam title with a 6-7 (7-9), 7-6 (7-2), 6-3, 6-4 victory over Alexander Zverev, the German second seed. 

The value of variety

After what happened in Paris, it was a tour de force of mental toughness, one that secured Sinner’s place in the modern pantheon of Centre Court greats. He now has a total of 100 match wins at the majors, where he is mopping up titles at the same rate as Djokovic, who likewise had five by the age of 24. Sinner also possesses an 80% win percentage on grass, something few would have predicted at the outset of his professional career, when he lost his first four matches on the surface (six from eight when qualifiers are included). 

A late developer who grew up in the Italian Dolomites, Sinner preferred skiing and football to tennis until his early teens. He has undeniably come a long way. But far enough to merit a place at the top table with McEnroe, Federer and company? That is another question. 

For all the undeniable excellence of his ball-striking and movement, for all his clinical mastery of the serve and return, the twin pillars of modern grass-court tennis, Sinner’s skillset is markedly different to that of his predecessors. What he does, he does with undeniable brilliance. His baseline game, which combines relentless aggression with virtually impenetrable defence, bears comparison with the best in history. Less apparent, however, is the variety of shot and powers of improvisation evident among other members of Wimbledon’s back-to-back club.

Laver is an obvious counterpoint. Like Sinner, the flame-haired Australian combined immense power off both wings with a destructive serve, weapons he famously deployed to hit his way out of trouble when things got tight. But it was with good reason that Laver was once introduced at WCT Tour events as “the man with the copper hair but a golden touch” – and it was not because he lacked finesse. As one might expect of the only man in history to complete the calendar year grand slam twice, the Queenslander was a complete player, as accomplished at the net as he was from the baseline, as capable of wielding the scalpel as dropping the hammer. For all his efforts to expand his arsenal, Sinner does not yet possess such variety.

It is not an isolated comparison; a similar versatility may be observed among others of Laver’s ilk. 

In an era when the lawns of the All England Club played significantly faster, making serve-and-volley tennis de rigueur, Borg reimagined his baseline game to spectacularly successful effect. The enigmatic Swede was neither a naturally dominant server nor a willing volleyer. But each year, he would retreat to the Cumberland Club in north-west London to hone his grass-court skills, eventually arriving in SW19 with a beefed-up delivery that he would gamely follow into the forecourt. Borg’s unrivalled athleticism – and the vagaries of a surface on which even a bad volley would stay low enough to be effective – more than made up for any technical shortcomings. Allied with a peerless return, a teak-tough mentality, and some of the best passing shots the game has ever seen, Borg’s adaptability earned him five straight titles.

So a talent for tailoring style to circumstance, for being able to force things from the net or mix it from the backcourt, has been a hallmark of all the great modern Wimbledon champions, even if some have inclined more towards one approach than another. Becker and Sampras reaped the rewards of their huge serves at the net. Federer and Djokovic won 15 titles between them, predominantly from the back of the court. But champions have a habit of finding a way, and each could do things differently when occasion demanded. Becker could hang with Ivan Lendl from the baseline, just as Sampras could live with Andre Agassi. Federer was a lethal volleyer; Djokovic became one. The one constant has been adaptability.

On Centre Court, then, variety is king. Newcombe, who bowed to no one in his eagerness to get forward, is the only real outlier among the select band to have defended the title. But like fellow net-rusher McEnroe – whom no one could accuse of lacking variety – the broad-shouldered Australian possessed a baseline game predicated on making the most of his attacking skills, particularly on grass. Whether driving a flat forehand into the corner or pinning his opponent back with a deep sliced backhand, Newcombe’s prime objective was to get to the net, where the real business of the match could be conducted. 

That is not to say that every successful title defence in the open era has been built on a diet of serve-and-volley, chip-and-charge, crush-and-rush. Such skills are on the endangered list, certainly relative to the days when the likes of Laver, Newcombe and McEnroe held sway. But Federer, Alcaraz and even Djokovic have all, to a greater or lesser degree, kept the tradition alive, if not as a go-to play, then certainly as a tactical weapon, a means to vary the method of attack and keep opponents guessing.

Why Sinner needs Alcaraz

Sinner, too, values diversity. 

Since last year’s US Open final, when he bemoaned his “predictability” after Alcaraz relieved him of both his title and the No 1 ranking, he has worked hard to expand his skillset, not least by sharpening his transition play and net game. The Italian nonetheless leans on those dimensions of his game sparingly, largely because Plan A is so good that other options only become essential when he is facing Alcaraz. 

This year’s Wimbledon final underlined the point: of the 275 points Sinner contested against Zverev, just 23 were played in the forecourt, barely half as many as the Italian attempted the previous summer against Alcaraz. In other words, without Alcaraz around, not even Zverev – the second best player in the world – has been able to force Sinner out of his baseline comfort zone. 

It might be argued that, having devised a winning formula, he would be mad to deviate from it. As Agassi famously remarked in his autobiography Open, the job is not to be the best in the world 365 days a year, but simply to be better than the guy you’re up against on a particular day. Sinner is out to win, not score marks for artistic impression. If he can ride his natural game all the way to the Wimbledon title, why bother trying something different? Yet as Agassi also observed – and Sinner knows all too well – “great things begin at the end of the comfort zone”. If and when Alcaraz returns with his wrist in fully functioning order, Sinner will need more.

Every great champion needs a foil, a player whose presence on the other side of the net drives them to the highest expression of their talent. McEnroe found that opponent in Borg. Stefan Edberg had Becker, whom he faced in three straight Wimbledon finals, winning twice. Rafael Nadal had Federer, who beat him to the title twice but could not quite do it a third time. 

The common thread in each of those historic rivalries was how the protagonists brought out the best in one another. So it is with Sinner and Alcaraz. The Spaniard has twice denied Sinner match points at a major before going on to win the title, first in an electrifying late-night quarter-final at the 2022 US Open, and then in last summer’s epic Roland Garros decider. Each time, Sinner came back stronger, never more so than when he wrested the Wimbledon crown from Alcaraz last summer. 

As is the way of it, that loss in turn prompted Alcaraz to redouble his focus and intensity. By the time he faced Sinner again, a few weeks later at the US Open, he was ready, rolling past his rival in four sets. Cue another turnaround by the Italian, who went on to defeat Alcaraz in the title round at the season-ending ATP Finals, before claiming his seventh win in 17 meetings between the pair in April’s Monte Carlo final.

Such back-and-forth is the lifeblood of all great sporting rivalries; in its absence, Sinner has for the most part been clinically efficient, but rarely inspired. His results have done the talking. With his title win in Rome, for instance, he became the only player other than Djokovic to complete a full house of Masters 1000 titles, a feat he achieved a full seven years earlier than the Serb. As things stand, his status as the world’s best player is indisputable – and yet, beyond Alcaraz, who is capable of forcing him to produce his very best tennis?

Not Zverev, it would seem. Despite the excellence he showed in taking advantage of a depleted field to land his first grand slam title in Paris, and the conviction with which he advanced beyond the fourth round of Wimbledon for the first time, the German went into the final on the back of nine straight defeats against Sinner. His unfettered jubilation at taking the first set hardly spoke of a deep-seated belief that he could win two more, and so it proved, Sinner rebounding to win a match that, though high on technical excellence, offered little by way of spectacle and stardust.

The numbers told the story. Sinner dominated every meaningful metric, winning 80% of points on his first serve to Zverev’s 72%, and 65% on his second to 59%. He also hit more winners (58 to 49), made significantly fewer unforced errors (25 to 45), and won a higher proportion of points at the net, despite venturing forward less often.

But for all the technical proficiency on show, the match itself was a dud, certainly in comparison with the extraordinary drama and emotion delivered by the women’s final between Linda Noskova and Karolina Muchova. A contest in which the first break point does not arrive for almost three hours is unlikely to keep an audience on the edge of their seats. Instead, the final felt like a throwback to the 90s, when big serves held sway, and the artistry and imagination of previous eras seemed irredeemably lost.

And as the thunderbolts were hurled, and Sinner once again asserted his superiority over an opponent he had mauled in just 58 minutes a few weeks earlier in Madrid, the nagging sense that only Alcaraz could truly test him grew ever stronger.

Do any of these quibbles matter? Sinner and his fanbase can point to two straight Wimbledon titles and say not. But if the Italian’s presence in the back-to-back club feels incongruous, it is partly because his game lacks the completeness of the modern grass-court greats. He is, undeniably, a wonderful, multi-surface player, a multiple major winner and dominant world No 1 whose place in the tennis Hall of Fame is already assured. But we can admit all that and still acknowledge that his grass-court game does not yet possess the multitudes of a McEnroe or Federer. 

At 24, there is ample scope for that to change. Even Djokovic, whose game Sinner’s most closely resembles, needed time to evolve into a player for all seasons. 

Nor should it be overlooked that, while Sinner already belongs to an elite group of multiple major winners, his body of work does not yet have the depth of most of his peers in Wimbledon’s back-to-back club. Five of the nine men who have successfully defended the title in the open era are in double figures for grand slams won. Of the remaining four, Newcombe, McEnroe and Becker have 31 major singles finals between them, while Alcaraz, like Sinner, remains a work in progress (albeit one with a career grand slam to his name). Sinner is not yet the player that, all things being equal, he is on course to become; for now, the scale of his achievements outstrips the rate of his development.

Yet that can only bode well. A second straight Wimbledon title is merely the latest piece of evidence to suggest that Sinner’s best years are ahead of him. For now, though, he is a champion cast in a different mould to his predecessors.

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“Linda is unflappable,” Ivana once explained. “She has this temperament from my husband. I think this trait is a big part of her success. She just doesn’t care. Whether it’s break point or match point, she’s always calm. It’s not that it doesn’t matter to her, but she can detach herself from it.”

On Saturday at the All England Club, the 21-year-old Czech demonstrated the truth of those words. 

Facing her compatriot Karolina Muchova in the Wimbledon final, Noskova stormed into an apparently unassailable lead only to suffer a catastrophic second-set collapse as Muchova, belatedly rousing herself, survived five championship points to force a deciding set. 

It was a devastating blow for Noskova, one that inevitably recalled the Centre Court implosion against Steffi Graf that left Jana Novtona weeping on the shoulder of the Duchess of Kent in 1993. But she would not allow her title challenge to be defined by it. Instead, remarkably, Noskova calmly regrouped to crown an afternoon of high drama and high emotion with a 6-2, 5-7, 6-3 victory that earned her a first grand slam title. 

The one sadness was that her mother, who died from cancer two summers ago, was not there to witness it. Afterwards, as Noskova thanked her watching father, Drahoš Nosek, together with the rest of her family and team, Noskova ensured she was not forgotten.

“There is also one more person I would like to thank, which is my mum,” said the Czech, her voice trembling. “I definitely would not be standing here without her, so thank you.”

‘Sad years, happy years, sweat’: what shaped Linda Noskova’s Wimbledon win

After blowing a kiss skywards, Noskova briefly reflected on “all the sad years, all the happy years, all the sweat and blood put into this”. It was a nod not only to her own dedication, but also to the sacrifices made by her parents as they strove to foster her talent on limited resources. To the years when the family was split asunder as Noskova’s ambitions took her from the bucolic village of Bystřička, where she grew up, to the city of Prerov, an hour’s drive away, where her mother cleaned offices to make ends meet while Drahoš remained at home, where he worked for a railway firm. 

“It was all worth it,” reflected Noskova.

That much is undeniable. Noskova becomes the third Czech champion in four seasons, following the victories of Marketa Vondrousova in 2023 and Barbora Krejcikova a year later. She is also the youngest winner since 2011, when Petra Kvitova defeated Maria Sharapova. Both were on hand to witness the occasion from the Royal Box, where nine-time champion Martina Navratilova was also among the usual glittering array of luminaries. 

The scrutiny could not have been more intense and, for the first half of what would be, at two hours and 28 minutes, the third longest women’s final in history, Noskova met the challenge head on. Her serve, the destructive fulcrum of her run to the final, was once again near-flawless. Noskova navigated the opening set without facing a break point, dropping just a single point behind her first delivery, while her smooth power and impressive movement allowed her to dictate the baseline exchanges. In the rare moments she wasn’t exceptional, Noskova was rock solid.

How Karolina Muchova struggled in her second major final

The same could not be said for Muchova. It is widely acknowledged that, on her day, the 29-year-old has the tools to defeat any player in the world. Here, however, she struggled to find her range in the face of Noskova’s excellence. By the time she did, the cause was all but lost. In that sense, Muchova’s second grand slam final mirrored her first, at the 2023 French Open, where she fell behind by a set and a break against Iga Swiatek only to force a decider after her game belatedly clicked into gear.

You would have got long odds on history repeating itself with Noskova leading 6-2, 5-2. Muchova had struggled throughout to summon the free-swinging power on her forehand that got her over the line from match point down against Coco Gauff in the semi-finals (a feat of escapism she also performed against Aryna Sabalenka at the same stage of her final run at Roland Garros, curiously) and as she served to stay in the contest, that wing once again faltered. 

Muchova twice survived after netting forehands to present Noskova with championship point; by the time she saved a third with a beautifully executed drop shot, the mental and emotional shackles were visibly starting to loosen. Her serve was gathering force. She was moving with newfound freedom. The variety and creativity that make her so dangerous were finally starting to flow. At the other end of the court, the opposite was happening. 

“It was very tough for me,” Noskova later reflected. “My hand kind of froze at certain moments. My feet were not as quick as they had been before.”

‘That’s insane’: Linda Noskova’s battle to remain in the second set

Up to then, moments of peril had been rare for Noskova – and when they came, she had been ready. Facing her first break points of the afternoon early in the second set, she snuffed out the danger with bold, decisive serving. As Muchova threatened to prolong the contest, she did so again. Noskova had already fended off two break points by the time Muchova nailed a glorious backhand winner to bring up a third. The younger woman responded with a thumping 112mph ace; then, when an error gifted Muchova a fourth opportunity, she produced another. 

“That’s insane,” mouthed the watching Navratilova.

Not so insane that Noskova couldn’t do it again, sending down an untouchable 114mph delivery to complete a stunning triptych of aces. Indeed, it was not until Muchova’s seventh break point that Noskova finally yielded, sending a forehand wide. By then, a double fault had cost her a fourth championship point, and a fifth would go begging in the next game. It was a torrid sequence for Noskova, one that would culminate with the loss of five straight games. Coming from a woman who normally wears the mask of impassivity so lightly, the anguished cry she emitted as the set slipped away spoke volumes.

So too did the manner in which she put her fingers over her ears as Centre Court rose to acclaim Muchova’s fightback. Yet, if Noskova’s impulse was to block out the reality of the moment, moments later she would be confronted by it in the most palpable form. As she retreated for a bathroom break, the Czech was greeted by the sight of the Venus Rosewater dish, the trophy awarded to the champion. Beside it sat the more modest silver plate awarded to the beaten finalist. Noskova’s resolve hardened.

Linda Noskova: ‘I’m going to leave my soul on court’

“The first step I took off court, the trophies were there,” said Noskova. “I was ​looking at the big one. I was like, ‘I’m taking this one, no matter what. I’m going to leave my soul on court.’”

If Noskova was replenished, Muchova was depleted. It had taken a monumental effort to restore parity. The momentum was hers but, after an exacting semi-final win over Gauff, did she have the physical and emotional reserves to capitalise?

“I think I started really slow,” Muchova reflected. “On the other hand, Linda started really strong, really good serving games. She played really fast. I was kind of looking for myself. It took a lot of power and strength out of me, I would say, to get back in that second set. I gave it my all. 

“The people were cheering on me; I felt it, I felt the support. I felt the momentum in the second set. It was definitely nice that it happened. It took, as I said, some strength out of me.”

As is so often the case in tennis, the opening game of the set was pivotal. Noskova had to stem the tide of games against her. Three break points for Muchova instead threatened to continue the surge. But Noskova held firm and, in the next game, some solid defending earned her a break. The tone was set; she would not be caught.

Noskova: ‘I think she would be proud’

Two years after her mother died on the eve of Wimbledon, Noskova’s victory was punctuated by a palpable sense of catharsis. No two people experience the anniversary of a parent’s death in the same way, but for most it is a time freighted with deep personal significance. So it appears to have been for the Czech, who revealed afterwards that her mother had been on her mind on the eve of the final. As a final service winner confirmed her triumph and she fell to the grass, her body heaving with emotion, those thoughts surfaced anew. 

“I had a moment yesterday night when I was thinking about her,” said Noskova. “Sadly, she passed away two years ago, at the beginning of the tournament. So just to be sitting here and looking at the title two years later, it was a big moment for me. But I think she would be proud. I think I made her happy today.”

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The words are Shakespeare’s, but the sentiment belonged firmly to Serena Williams on Tuesday night, at least from the perspective of an adoring Centre Court crowd. They were there to witness the second coming of a sporting legend and, hanging on her every move, they got what they came for.

Some may have feared that Williams, 44 years old and playing her first singles match since 2022, might suffer a mauling at the hands of Maya Joint, an opponent who was not even born when the American won the first half dozen of her 23 grand slam singles titles. They needn’t have worried; Serena Williams was unmistakably Serena Williams. 

The aura of old remained intact, and may even have been magnified by her lengthy absence. Her serve, once the most feared shot in the women’s game, was as silken as ever – and, once she had worked through the gears, barely less destructive in its force and accuracy. Williams can still crush a groundstroke with the best of them, certainly when the ball is in her wheelhouse, and neither has time diminished the mental intensity that made her the finest competitor of her generation. 

Whatever has been lost over the past four years – a period in which she has welcomed a second daughter into the world, devoted more time to her business interests and become a figurehead for the efficacy of GLP-1 weight-loss medications – Williams remains a formidable competitor.

How the second coming of Serena Williams gathered momentum

Understandably, it took time for her to rouse herself, to shake off the rust of competitive inertia. Yet the mentality of a champion is the last thing to go. Williams demonstrated as much when she stood within a point of a straight-sets defeat. Had she folded in that instant, had she failed to meet the moment with the spirit of old, few would have blamed her. She had produced a decent performance. She had kept things close and made a match of it.

But that is not the kind of thinking that wins you seven Wimbledon titles, and Williams’ refusal to go quietly offered an emphatic response to the myopic minority who questioned whether she was worthy of a place in the draw. 

As she threw down two big serves, the second an unreturnable 122mph delivery that brought up a set point of her own, it was hard to believe this was the same woman who only a few months ago posted a video of herself serving for the first time since February 2023. And as Williams won the next point, patiently outrallying Joint to level the match – who said she couldn’t run? – her reaction spoke of expectation rather than serendipity. There was no bellicose explosion of emotion, no roaring or histrionics. Instead, a silent raised fist acknowledged a job well done, while an impassive expression signalled that more work remained.

Criticism of Serena Williams’s return – and why it was misplaced

For some, though, all that mattered was her inability to complete the task. Williams’ 6-3, 6-7 (6-8), 6-3 defeat merely confirmed what these well-informed knew all along: that the sport has moved on in her absence. That the rank and file now wield just as much power as Williams from the baseline, and will no longer be intimidated by her game. That she has lost half a step, either struggling to get into the corners or failing to summon her former weight of shot once there. A few went even further. Williams’s decision to return to the competitive fray on one of the sport’s biggest stages without playing a warm-up event was an insult to the tournament, it was said; as such, she got what she deserved. So the arguments ran.

Such analysis vastly underplays the difficulty of competing on a grass court, let alone an indoor grass court. A closed roof locks in humidity, making a naturally slick surface even slippier. Players can compensate to some degree by getting lower to the court, but the quick starts and rapid changes of direction required at elite level inevitably become more challenging. Hard courts, however, are another matter. There, Williams would almost certainly be quicker. Only she knows where her journey will take her next but, should she choose to play at the US Open, there will be a sturdier basis on which to judge the quality of her movement.

Either way, it should be acknowledged that the law of diminishing returns kicks in mercilessly after 40. Some balls are simply no longer worth running for. It is hard for a player at any level to accept that reality, let alone one of WIlliams’s stature. Who wants to play the role of bystander as balls you would once have chased down with ease instead sail past? It is a blow to the ego, an unwanted reminder of your own mortality, both sporting and otherwise. And yet it is a necessary art, one where the skill lies in being selective, in shepherding your resources, in saving the greatest effort for the moments of greatest need. 

That is precisely what Williams did when presented with the opportunity to level the match, hanging tough to come out on the right side of a 13-stroke rally. Would moments like that would have been made simpler by playing a warm-up event? Undoubtedly. There is no substitute for match play, where adrenaline and nerves come into play, and physical commitment is at the maximum. But as Williams explained in her pre-tournament press briefing, she remained unsure about whether to accept a wildcard right up to the eve of the qualifying competition, a deadline beyond which the decision would have been taken out of her hands. 

Why Serena Williams deserved her place in the draw

She was permitted that luxury because she is a seven-time Wimbledon champion and one of the greatest players in tennis history. That status was earned, not conferred. To view her participation simply through the prism of the £80,000 cheque that might otherwise have gone to Katie Volynets, the American world No 101 who was next on the entry list, seems pedantic, reductive and self-righteous. 

It also ignores the restorative effect the victory might have for Joint, a fine young player who has been ranked as high as 28th but has struggled for form this year. Coming into the fortnight, the 20-year-old had lost all but one of her previous 13 matches. Now she has one of the most significant victories of her career, a result that will forever remain a personal reference point. Not everyone can say they have beaten Serena Williams at Wimbledon. How do you put a price on that?

As for the All England Club, commercial reality was always going to outweigh other considerations. Even in retirement, Williams remains one of the biggest names in world sport. Her comeback was one of the most significant stories of the year, generating huge buzz around the tournament. It would have been madness to deny her a wildcard. No doubt Volynets was disappointed to miss out, but the disappointment of millions of tennis fans worldwide would have been far greater had it been the other way around. 

As it is, the woman who evolved away from the sport four years ago has now revolved back. Not as a perfect recreation of her peak self – because that would be impossible – and seemingly with more humble objectives, if her insistence that she just wants to “have fun” and enjoy the sport from a new perspective is to be believed.

“I don’t need to win, I’ve won more than most people in their whole lives,” Williams said last month at Queen’s Club, where her doubles partnership with Victoria Mboko lasted just one match before the Canadian suffered an injury.

“That is not important to me, and it’s important I keep reminding myself of that. I don’t have anything to prove, I don’t have anything to lose. Everything here is to gain.”

It may be a while before we learn what Williams has gained so far, given that she did not speak to the media following her defeat. What we do know is that the interregnum is over. For how long, who knows? In many ways, the uncertainty is part of the fun.

Serena Williams may not be able to recall time past but, as her brief singles adventure in SW19 showed, she can still have plenty of impact on time present.

The post Serena Williams lost. But she proved she belonged at Wimbledon appeared first on Love Game Tennis.

As the defending Wimbledon champion, however, that is the role in which the 25-year-old has been cast since her arrival in SW19 last week, and she has appeared faintly bemused by the attendant pageantry. Perhaps that is partly because Swiatek, a player better known for her exploits on clay, always regarded the prospect of winning on the lush lawns of the All England Club as “impossible”. It is hard to be fully prepared for something you never envisaged happening in the first place.

Happen it did, however, and having beaten Amanda Anisimova to win the title last summer, it fell to Swiatek to open the Centre Court programme on the first Tuesday, as tradition dictates the returning champion must. 

On the eve of the fortnight, Swiatek spoke of keeping her expectations low – as well she might, after a chequered season in which she has slipped to third in the rankings, lost an opening round match for the first time in 74 outings in Miami, and failed to win a title. Yet, with the sense of occasion underlined by the presence of her father and sister in the Royal Box, there was no prospect of going under the radar as she faced American doubles specialist Taylor Townsend.

An unkind draw may yet pit her against more illustrious names, but Townsend represented an undeniably tricky opening assignment. The 30-year-old’s modest singles ranking of 79th belies her pedigree and skills – she is No 2 in doubles, where she is a three-time major winner – and the suspicion was that she would would provide a stern early test for the Polish third seed. So it proved.

How Iga Swiatek narrowly avoided an unwanted record

For two hours and two minutes, momentum flitted back and forth and Swiatek frequently seemed closer to disaster than triumph. Defeat would have earned the Pole the dubious distinction of joining Steffi Graf and the suspended Marketa Vondrousova as only the third defending champion in the open era to lose in round one. Little wonder, then, that her 6-1, 2-6, 6-3 victory exacted an emotional toll that was plain to see as she sat weeping into a towel afterwards.

“For sure it’s not easy to come back as a defending champion, so I’m happy that I got through the match,” said Swiatek, who began the afternoon in near-immaculate fashion only to end it with 36 unforced errors, including nine double faults. 

“I think the whole process of opening on [Centre Court] and playing as the defending champion is for sure really emotional. Last year, probably the most amazing thing in my whole tennis career happened here, so I felt it also today. It was a mix of different emotions. Overall, I’m happy that I got to win and I can have another chance to play on this court.”

That opportunity will come against Czech former finalist Karolina Pliskova, but at times it was touch and go. Swiatek admitted in her on-court interview that nerves got the better of her in the second set, but expressed satisfaction that she was able to recover her game in the decider.

“These are the moments that you feel you did the job,” she said, “because it is not hard when everything goes your way and you are so confident that everything goes in.”

How did Taylor Townsend run Iga Swiatek so close?

Townsend’s assertive approach to the contest limited Swiatek’s ability to establish that confidence. Time is at a premium on a grass court, and it was clearly the American’s intention to ensure her opponent enjoyed as little of it as possible. It is no secret that the Pole can be vulnerable from the back of the court when rushed, and Townsend’s tactic of adopting a highly aggressive return position, often a foot or more inside the baseline, served to maximise the champion’s discomfiture. 

Smoking her returns, Townsend fashioned five break points in Swiatek’s opening service game. The world No 3 saved them all and, having held from 15-40, went on to snatch a break of her own. Another soon followed, Swiatek forcing a volleying error with a dipping return. With barely half an hour played she was, emphatically, on her way.  

At a set down, Townsend faced a tactical puzzle. She had the makings of an effective strategy, but unforced errors – 11 in the first set, versus a miserly four from Swiatek – were making it hard to implement. It did not help that she was landing a relatively modest 60% of her first serves at that stage, limiting her ability to play the match from the net, and therefore on her own terms. Invited to make hay on the return, Swiatek accepted the gift gleefully, limiting the American to a meagre 30% of points behind her second delivery.

With the tactical clarity of Townsend’s early efforts becoming a distant memory, the dawn of a new set brought a chance to reset. This time, she executed her game plan to perfection. Nailing a return to force a Swiatek error, Townsend broke in the first game. That fed her conviction and, committed once more to a front-foot approach, she soon began to showcase her proficiency at the net, picking off volleys behind knifed approach shots. As Townsend attacked with aplomb and defended with newfound resilience, it was Swiatek’s turn to wobble. 

The numbers behind Iga Swiatek’s second-set dropoff

The numbers reflected the extent of the turnaround. Having won six of 13 net points in the first set, Townsend claimed 13 of 16 in the second. Her seven unforced errors were fewer than half Swiatek’s 16, while her success rate behind the second serve soared to an impressive 70%. By the time Swiatek left the court for a comfort break with the match level, it was the champion who had all the thinking to do. Her analysis made for fascinating listening. 

“I felt that at the beginning of the second set, Taylor kind of pushed a little harder, she went to the net more successfully, compared to some volleys she missed in the first set.,” said Swiatek. “There are always two people playing, you know; if she didn’t push, then maybe I wouldn’t make these mistakes. 

“I felt like at the end of the second set it was a more even game – it’s not like I was playing stupid – so I had something to be positive about. I went into the third set knowing that now we start from the beginning.”

And what a beginning it was.

For 21 minutes the players toiled, Swiatek alternately shooting herself in the foot with double faults, of which she produced three, before training her sights on Townsend. The absorbing battle of wills, a mirror of Swiatek’s first service game of the afternoon, eventually went her way – although not before she had staved off four break points, one of them with a meaty 104mph second serve.

It was a vital breakthrough. Swiatek won her next two service games to love and, although she was dismayed when Townsend cancelled out a break midway through the set, she broke again in the eighth game with a lovely rolled pass. She would not be caught again, sealing victory with her second ace of the day.

Having met the demands of the occasion, Swiatek will no doubt be grateful to relinquish the spotlight.

“You feel like a lot of people are waiting for this match, like it’s all coming up to have this moment on this court, which feels strange because it’s just a tennis match,” said Swiatek.

“But that’s what Wimbledon is about a little bit, and I really wanted everyone to enjoy it – and I wanted to enjoy it, which is obviously not easy, because playing tennis is sometimes tough.”

Whatever unfolds over the next fortnight, Swiatek will have few days tougher than this.

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The 44-year-old American, seven of whose 23 grand slam titles have come on the lawns of the All England Club, has been awarded the final remaining wildcard for the women’s draw.

Williams’ last competitive appearance as a singles player came at the US Open in 2022, when she was beaten in the third round by Australia’s Ajla Tomljanovic. Notably, she stopped short of saying she was retiring, insisting that she was simply “evolving away” from tennis. 

Williams’ return marks the culmination of a slow-burning saga that began last October, when her re-entry to the drug-testing pool, a necessary precursor to any competitive comeback, became the focus of feverish speculation. 

She played down that conjecture until the start of this month, when she announced she would play doubles with Victoria Mboko at Queen’s Club. The partnership lasted just one match before an injury forced the Canadian teenager to withdraw from the event. 

Williams continued her comeback in Berlin, where she lost in the first round of the doubles alongside Karolina Muchova, the Czech world No 11. The outcome notwithstanding, that appearance, which came hard on the heels of the announcement that she would compete in the women’s doubles at Wimbledon with her sister Venus, 46, left Williams optimistic about the state of her game.

What has Serena Williams said about her level since returning to tennis?

“I felt pretty good out there,” she said. “I felt actually more nimble and sturdy and quicker than the first match at Queens. Overall I felt pretty good, just physically and quickness, which I think you need a lot of on grass.”

WIlliams added that it would be “fun” competing with Venus in SW19, where the sisters have claimed the doubles title six times. But she remained evasive when asked if she would be interested in taking up the final singles wildcard if it were offered.

“Would you be interested that I took it?” she replied to her interrogator. “Do you think I’m ready for singles? I need to get to work. That’s the question of the hour. I don’t know, I don’t know.”

That stance has clearly changed over the past five days. But while it will be fascinating to see Williams she fares, the odds remain stacked against a deep run. She has not won a singles match at the All England Club since 2019, when she was trounced in the final by Simona Halep, and it remains to be seen how she will cope with the more onerous physical demands of competing one-on-one. That said, if history has taught us anything, it is that writing off the great American is a fool’s game.   

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