Prize Fools

By Nigel Graber

We’ve just watched (endured?) probably the least entertaining men’s slam I can ever remember. As we await the men’s semis of the 2026 Australian Open, only two matches beyond the first round have gone the full five-set distance.

So what’s behind the lacklustre, lifeless displays? I have a theory.

Jimmy Connors was very quotable. Some corkers remain lodged in my head more than three decades after his retirement. When asked why he had few friends on tour, he replied, ‘These guys are taking food out of my children’s mouths’.

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He was right. The ATP tour has always been survival of the fittest, dog-eat-dog. Lose first round today and you might be dropping hundreds of ATP points. Saying adios to those points could send you down into the Challenger Tour or, worse, the M25 ITF tour, where a quarter-finalist can expect to take home around 900 dollars. That’s not enough to cover your airfare, hotel room, coaching fees, and cheeseburgers. Dog-eat-dog indeed. For those currently in the top 100, though, things have changed.

Popular wisdom has it that, to make a decent living today, you need to secure that top-100 berth. But it wasn’t always that way. As recently as 2010, while Wimbledon champions Rafael Nadal and Serena Williams each took home a sweet one-million quid, first-round losers sloped off with their tail between their legs and £11,000 in their accounts. Eleven grand might seem a fortune for a day’s work, but subtract 40% for the taxman, 10% or more for your coach, a few hundred for hotels (more if you squeaked through three rounds of qualifying), and a few more hundred for flights, and it’s suddenly not a fortune any more. 

And remember, those paydays occur only four times a year, provided your ranking will get you past the bouncers. For the rest of the calendar, you’re scratching a living in Challengers or trying to qualify for ATP 250s.

So what changed? What made life that little bit more comfortable for the journeyman pro?

Novak Djokovic and Vasek Pospisil probably had great intentions when they formed the Professional Tennis Players’ Association (PTPA). Chief among their ambitions was a bottom-up pay structure that benefited the guys ranked outside the top 100 with a more-even distribution of prize money. Djokovic argued that the lower echelons of tennis need to be supported to ensure the future of the sport. During the COVID-19 pandemic, he led an initiative to create a $4.5m fund to help players ranked between 250-700.

Indeed, the PTPA filed legal actions against tennis’ governing bodies (the ATP, WTA, and ITF) that accused them of ‘anti-competitive practices’ that suppress earnings. Following years of pressure from the PTPA, grand slams have since raised prize money to record levels, with the 2025 US Open offering a humdinger pot of $85 million in prize money (a 21% increase over 2024) and the 2026 Australian Open also boasting a record purse. Players at this year’s Aussie Open are dipping into a prize pool of AUD $111.5 million, with the singles champions wondering how to spend their latest four million dollars.

But here’s the rub. First-round losers came away with AUD $150,000. Let me translate that. That’s over 76,000 of your British pounds, or 106,000 US dollars. Keep your ranking in or around the top 100 and you’ll enjoy a similar bumper payday three more times each year. Better still, win a round and your purse is AUD $225,000. Get through to round three and AUD $327,750 should keep you going for a while. Heck, even losing in qualifying – not even making it into the tournament proper – can secure AUD $83,500. 

My argument is this: where’s the incentive to win any more than a round or two when you can make a very comfortable living bowing out inside the first week of each slam? 

Let’s face it, Hugo Gaston or Yannick Hanfmann are unlikely to see their names inscribed on the Norman Brookes Challenge Trophy anytime soon. Not with the all-consuming domination of Alcaraz and Sinner. But looting over a million bucks every year just for showing up and winning a round or two here and there? We see what you’re doing. You’re taking us for prize fools.

I suspect there’s no financial route back now. But tennis might have lost its gladiatorial essence, the one-on-one, kill-or-be-killed cut and thrust so viscerally articulated by Jimbo.

In its place, we have the upper reaches of the sport going through their anodyne motions in pursuit of a decent payday and an early flight back home. It’s insipid, it’s adrenaline-free, it’s submissive, and it’s desperately sad.

Players might have secured their financial future, but at what cost? How I wish we could turn back the clock.

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