!['There was an ugly grey court in an over-lit stadium, and a system of points challenges that resulted in blurry black and white replays of the ball,' writes Sitwell](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/columnists/2024/03/08/TELEMMGLPICT000369143586_17099082776140_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqIL9iQxxHXfuXAZXwB2agT4y6OvsNqQ0opx95x8hNDG4.jpeg?imwidth=680)
!['There was an ugly grey court in an over-lit stadium, and a system of points challenges that resulted in blurry black and white replays of the ball,' writes Sitwell](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/columnists/2024/03/08/TELEMMGLPICT000369143586_17099082776140_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqIL9iQxxHXfuXAZXwB2agT4y6OvsNqQ0opx95x8hNDG4.jpeg?imwidth=680)
Last weekend, the novice media kid on the block, that behemoth of Netflix, tried its best to destroy one of the finest sports on the planet. But in the end it was game, set and match to tennis, with Netflix, as they say, crashing out.
And it was indeed nail-biting, classic tennis. A clash between a titan of the game and the young pretender and with the engaging knowledge that the younger player’s childhood hero was his opponent. In a Spaniard on Spaniard battle, we saw 37-year-old Rafael Nadal take on Carlos Alcaraz, 20 years old and now world ranked as No 2 with two major titles (US Open and Wimbledon) to his name.
It had everything the spectators might have wished for: artistry, near-miraculous points and a nail-biting finish that saw the younger player (only just) outsmarting his opponent.
That is almost everything. Everything except the coverage: the venue, the presenters, the commentators and the tech. Netflix, you see, is sniffing around at the edges of its comfort zone of drama. And while it has edged into sport using its skills of storytelling to great effect with Formula 1: Drive to Survive and with less success in tennis (Break Point), it has now gone a step further taking the battle to Amazon Prime and Sky, the latter currently the winner, having stolen the tennis from Amazon and begun a dedicated tennis channel.
So along came Netflix with a deal that saw two tennis legends brought to Las Vegas, with a little help from long-time resident Andre Agassi, and a court hastily assembled in the Michelob ULTRA Arena at Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino in Las Vegas (more used to boxing matches and concerts).
The result was very un-tennis: chaos and noise. There was an ugly grey court in an over-lit stadium, and a system of points challenges that resulted in blurry black and white replays of the ball looking like something out of The X-Files.
But the worst offenders were the commentators: talking constantly and throughout play, and a certain Kay Adams, who admitted she was “kinda new to tennis” and then proved it by interviewing celebrities during play. There was also the unnerving spectacle of Mary Joe Fernández (US player and former No 4 in the world and subtitled by Netflix as “Fernadnez)” interviewing the players on their benches between points.
The viewers were not amused, especially at the disrespect shown by former players talking while points were in play with “#stfu” trending on X (formerly Twitter).
So is this a sign of what’s to come? Will the ugly tentacles of these US attempts to force baseball coverage style onto tennis grow and strangle this beloved game?
While tennis is said to originate in the ancient monastic cloisters of France, the modern game of lawn tennis, the crucial size of the court, was formalised in Birmingham in the late 19th century. So it’s basically British, it’s our game.
And we continue to set and cling onto its standards at places like Wimbledon, where the players’ dress is white, there’s a royal box where ties are compulsory, the walls and awnings and covers are racing green and the line judges (who should be surplus to requirements with modern technology) dress as if they’re at Henley Royal Regatta.
And we have the finest commentators: although we all miss Dan Maskell (“that’s the fastest beck hend I’ve ever seen”), the likes of Andrew Castle and Andrew Cotter call it brilliantly so that it also sounds like a classic English summer.
Any chit-chat evaporates as a player serves, the only vulgar innovation being the post-match on-court interviews, which take away the magic of the mystical temple of the court.
But as the world is about money and the BBC have a knack of losing great sports to the highest bidder, let me beg to Netflix thus: sure, pinch tennis from the BBC, but please also steal its talent and its style. Remember, one of the beauties of the game is wondering what players are thinking mid-match, so please don’t ruin it by actually asking them. Learn from the poise of our ball boys and girls (compared to the very sloppy and casual ones you get in the US) and bag Castle and Cotter as well as Henman and Balding. And if you can’t afford Balding, grab her natural successor: the brilliant Rosanna Tennant (the female voice of BBC 5 Live’s F1 coverage).
But if you can’t do all of that, buzz off. The #netflixslam just isn’t – sorry ain’t – tennis.
Sorry, Netflix, but adding chaos and noise to tennis is an almighty unforced error
Rafael Nadal may have lost to Carlos Alcaraz, but the real loser was the streaming platform’s failed attempt to cover the sport