Caira Conner

In August, I watched Dominic Thiem play the last Grand Slam match of his career, courtside in Arthur Ashe stadium. Thiem’s family and team were in his box, including former coach Nicolás Massú, their faces solemn in the midday sun. American Ben Shelton, whose star power and biceps have only increased in size since his breakout season last year, was Thiem’s opponent. Thiem played with occasional moments of beauty—the ghost of his US Open-winning self dancing in the shadows of a one-handed winner—but Shelton devoured him. It was heartbreaking, and perversely compelling.