By Simon Briggs
Nick Kyrgios. He’s the tennis player everyone loves, right? Well, no, actually. In the list of sport’s most divisive athletes, Kyrgios would be up there with Tyson Fury and Ronnie O’Sullivan. But you would not have known it from the new Netflix tennis documentary Break Point, which turns Mr Spiky into a cuddly toy.
During the 48-minute season opener – which is set at last year’s Australian Open – we hear plenty from Kyrgios about his internal struggles and his love for his family. We see him serving his way to the men’s doubles title and canoodling with new girlfriend Costeen. But where are Kyrgios’ many detractors? Where, for instance, is Michael Venus – the New Zealander who faced him in a rumbustious Melbourne quarter-final, and then described him as an “absolute knob” with the “maturity level of a 10-year-old”?
There was an opportunity to explore – and maybe deepen – the debate over Kyrgios’ chequered contribution to tennis. Sadly, it was an opportunity missed.
After all the buzz surrounding this project, Break Point was expected to dive under the surface of Planet Tennis and reveal the feuds and factions beneath. Perhaps it is these lofty expectations that made the gentle, uncontroversial tone of episode one feel like a letdown.
Five of Break Point’s 10 episodes will be released on Friday. The best of them – the third – shows American No.1 Taylor Fritz overruling his own coaches to play in the Indian Wells final with a damaged ankle. This is revealing behind-the-scenes content, and will enhance Fritz’s status as one of the more interesting up-and-comers on the circuit.
But there is no sign of the vicious backchat that turned Netflix’s previous sport series venture – Formula 1’s Drive to Survive – into such a juggernaut.
Nick Kyrgios has become one of the most divisive figures in world sport.Credit:AP
Perhaps the stars simply aligned for Drive to Survive. It is worth remembering that the second series landed on the eve of the COVID-19 lockdown. And that the subjects, who had never seen a sporting reality show before, were a little naive. The producers were able to dial up the tension – sometimes cynically – until Max Verstappen went on doco-strike, complaining about “faked rivalries”.
As for Break Point, its biggest challenge lies in the placid nature of tennis – a sport that suffers from a politeness problem. Hot-headed incidents happen about as infrequently as Novak Djokovic defeats.
All this excess civility stems from the tour’s unique dynamic. Part circus, part boarding school, it throws the players together in the same restaurants, lounges and locker rooms for at least 10 months of the year – in contrast to F1, where the teams shelter in trailers.
On the odd occasions where a little aggro does flare up, it starts a wave of excited rubbernecking among fans and media. It’s something that would never happen in a less decorous sport – such as boxing, say. This makes it all the stranger that Break’s Point’s producers missed two gimmes in the first half of the season.
I am thinking not only of the Kyrgios-Venus showdown but also of the French Open, and tennis’ best attempt at a Scandi noir. Why does the row between Denmark’s Holger Rune and Norway’s Casper Ruud, whom Rune claimed had yelled “Ja!” in his face, make no appearance? Admittedly, episode five of Break Point features a Ruud argument at the French Open. Unfortunately, Ruud was not arguing with Rune – but with a groundsman over a weather-related delay to his practice session.
The same episode tries to make dramatic capital out of the tug of love over Toni Nadal – the coach who has been working with Felix Auger-Aliassime, but refused to sit in the Canadian hotshot’s box when he came up against his nephew Rafael at the French Open.
What did Auger-Aliassime make of this disloyalty?
“It was very clear once we started working together that he wouldn’t want me to beat his nephew.” At which point his agent chimes in with: “We respect the fact that it’s family. It’s all good.”
While we might credit the Auger-Aliassime camp for its maturity, this does not make for great television. The joy of reality shows lies in the micro-conflicts, the bitchy asides. There are non-sports fans who watch Drive to Survive because it reminds them of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
Yes, the Netflix producers could have done more with Break Point. But then, tennis did not give them a whole lot to work with. To put it simply: where is the hate?
The Telegraph, London
