Racquet’s See You In Court is a regular column in which Melissa Kenny, a famously mediocre lifelong player, opines on pro tennis. She also writes Hard Hitting, a Substack about the thrills and frustrations of recreational tennis.
Like some of you, surely, I love Andrea Petovic’s newsletter, Finite Jest. After reading her second Australian Open dispatch, beholding such (disparate) topics as Pat Rafter’s magnetic aura and Stan Wawrinka's gusto during this past—his last—AO ever, I was compelled to comment, In a room full of Rafters, I would still stan Stan. I bit (deleted) my tongue (comment) to avoid appearing cheap or contrarian. But with some more thought, I realized, actually, my instincts were fairly good.
Almost universally magnetic, Pat Rafter is something close to an age-agnostic head-turner. He has an easy disposition and a smile you don’t have to work for. Charm in swathes. A southern hemisphere tan, if you’re into that kind of thing (people usually are).
Stan’s desirability is harder to pin down.
He is not topping too many ‘Heartthrob’ lists—though Interview recently declared Tommy Paul the biggest one in our sport, and I appreciate the campy term’s revival. There’s a pedestrian quality to Stan; like he might enjoy eating in a food court after cruising the mall. His haircut is achingly normal. My friend thinks he would mow a great lawn. For that reason, it feels oddly formal to call him ‘Wawrinka’.
Stan, short for Stanislas, has won three majors: the 2014 Australian Open, the 2015 French Open, and the 2016 US Open. On the heels of that sophomore slam, he was featured in ‘The Body Issue’ of ESPN’s then-magazine, dressed rather like a Shaggy in denial: butt-naked. Somehow, I had missed this nude moment eleven years ago. But it certainly doesn’t zap my thesis: that Stan is desirable.
In the ESPN shoot’s accompanying interview those eleven years ago, Stan revealed, “When I was younger, I was a little bit fat. I wasn't big-time fat, I was just overweight—maybe around when I was 13 or 14.” I read this and thought to myself, well, I had a sneaking suspicion. Few things are more character-building than being a chubby kid. Today, his body leans stocky; it’s the kind you can imagine will yield easily to his looming retirement. This is a guy whose god-given body didn’t usher him neatly into professional tennis—and yet. But this is about so much more than Stan’s beautiful body.
Not that his powerful quads don’t deserve credit. They carried the weight of his famously “ugly” shorts; the purple, picnicky pair he wore to steal the 2015 French Open from Djokovic.
‘Daggy’ is Australian slang for something or someone that is unfashionable, uncool, messy, or socially awkward, yet often in an endearing or amusing way. The fit of Stan’s shorts and the eye-straining print are unbelievably daggy, and tell the story of an imperfect, emotionally tender man. “Everybody is on about my shorts. I love them, but I seem to be the only one,” he admitted. “They are three-in-one: a bathing suit, tennis shorts, pyjamas.” Grand slam champions are not typically concerned with the cost-per-wear of their garments, but Stan is FTP (for the people) and, crucially, fine to zig when his peers zag. Two-thirds of the players du jour, Federer and Djokovic—muscularly lithe with 0% body fat and evermore the picture of tennis players than Stan—dressed unfussily. The other third, Rafa, was known for wearing “happy colors” on court. Plausibly, the public would’ve taken well to the shorts if it were Rafa wearing them. But real heads know the allure of Stan is his marginal wrong-ness.
Stan has been at the helm of some of my favorite on-court quarrels over the years. When Frenchman Jo-Wilfried Tsonga thought our guy stared at him a little too long at a changeover during the 2017 Australian Open, Stan took the bait. They had a very daft, circular conversation that I found fascinating:
Stan: It’s you staring at me, and who is talking.
Tsonga: I did not say anything. I was absolutely not staring at you.
Stan: Are you looking for trouble? I do not understand. Did I stare at you?
…
Stan: Did I stare at you once?
Tsonga: Of course.
Stan: What? Did I stare at you once? When?
Tsonga: Just now.
Stan: You are staring at me.
Pharrell’s ‘Happy’ plays over the loudspeakers. Neither man claps along.
Tsonga: [says something inaudible]
Stan: You are staring at me. This is a tennis match, calm down.
Tsonga: [says another inaudible thing]
Stan: This is just a tennis match. Relax.
I don’t necessarily applaud Stan for this toddler-level exchange. He deployed two of the most scalding imperatives: “calm down” and “relax”, while he himself was on the precipice of feral. But I like that he stayed on message. He didn’t detour places neither here nor there—as Kyrgios did, for instance, the time he crassly suggested that Thanasi Kokkinakis had “banged” Stan’s girlfriend (Donna Vekic) in the midst of a tight match at the 2015 National Bank Open. (A few weeks ago, Stan endorsed Kyrgios as an “amazing player,” deserving of an AO 2026 wild card—though Kyrgios had his sights set elsewhere: losing in round one of both the doubles and mixed.)
Stan will fight for the little things, like room-temperature drinking water. I, too, prefer unchilled water—but won’t object to it if it’s all that’s offered. Stan objects. For he is a professional athlete and his body need not WORK HARDER to turn “fricking freezing water” into a legitimate source of hydration. But at the 2022 French Open, the complaint landed as if Stan was asking someone to take an arduous trek, plunge a pail into a well, and return with a rarified resource. For what it’s worth, if you were Stan’s girl? He would go to the well for you if you needed water, and he would never tell you to calm down.
And even if you don’t desire him, I know we can agree Stan’s backhand is one of the most titillating this sport has ever seen. I hope you’ll join me in wolf-whistling at him during his final lap of honor later in the year.
