The Green Green Grass of Home

Now that tennis represents a broader purview, it churns out the same cheap tricks as the overstimulated ecosystem it dwells in: shock jockery, cash grabs, frenzied efforts for “engagement” that materialize as gauche emblems of brodernity. So I turn your attention, instead, to the real battle of the sexes: that women’s tennis is amply more exciting than men’s.

Just in time for the holidays, we are so thrilled to be opening our doors to the Racquet Clubhouse. In our hometown of New York City, there's only one club that offers best-in-class tennis, padel and squash—alongside a spa, juice and coffee bar: CityView Racquet Club. That's where we've launched our first IRL pro shop.

In this postcard from Morocco, local player and commentator Mamoune Hazmoune explains the meaning of high-level tennis up close and personal.

Peter Malachi's grandfather took tennis from his swashbuckling days dodging torpedoes in the second world war to a tiny, bucolic island.

Hawkeye might be forever stacked against her, but dammit, Ostapenko is going to wrest back the favor of the gods one waistless eponymous tennis dress at a time, for offers in good faith from Believers in her DMs.