The U.S. Open women’s final and the art of the Grand Slam runner-up speech

FLUSHING, N.Y. — The last time Aryna Sabalenka stood in front of a microphone after losing a Grand Slam final, her speech was heard around the world.

After her twisting French Open final defeat to Coco Gauff, Sabalenka opened with “this one hurts so much, guys.” Then she lamented her performance, the conditions, and the match itself, describing all three as “terrible” before congratulating Gauff and thanking her team, again apologizing for “this terrible final.”

Saturday at the U.S. Open, Sabalenka met Amanda Anisimova, who also captured the world’s imagination with her last major-final speech. After the humiliation of a 6-0, 6-0 Wimbledon final defeat to Iga Świątek — the first double bagel in a Wimbledon final since 1911 — Anisimova broke down in tears before she delivered a heartfelt monologue lasting more than five minutes (not far off a tenth of the match length) that paid tribute to her mum, describing  her as “the most selfless person I know.”

It resonated with new fans and fans who already knew her, aware of the journey Anisimova had been on since the sudden death of her father, Konstantin, in 2019, when Anisimova was just 17.

When this U.S. Open final was over, it was Sabalenka speaking after a 6-3, 7-6(3) triumph and Anisimova again reflecting on a defeat, taking part in a tennis ritual that cuts to the height of emotion, and also goes against almost every other sport.

In conversation with broadcaster Mary Carillo, Anisimova said she “didn’t fight hard for her dreams today,” before telling Sabalenka that she was “in awe of what you have accomplished. You keep on achieving some incredible things.”

She then thanked her team, freestyling as she did at Wimbledon, but with much less emotion.

Winners receiving praise and sharing their joy with everyone watching is a fixture of just about every sport. Asking the beaten finalist to stick around, watch their rival be presented with a trophy and adulation, and, hardest of all, have a microphone thrust in their face and sum up how they are feeling is a form of emotional laceration unique to tennis. It bares the defeated player’s soul, but also provides real-time processing not just for them, but the sport’s fans.

“We love people’s pain, but on the other hand, we like the idea that that pain might be temporary, that things might be OK,” said oratory expert Michael Ronayne, director of the Art of Training and Public Speaking course, in a recent phone interview.

“And what we want from our winners or losers, but obviously losers in this particular situation, is for them to bare their souls. We’re asking them to bleed in front of us.”

Bare their soul and bleed, but not too much. The apparently raw and unfiltered outpouring of feelings is, in reality, governed by an unwritten code of etiquette and expectations, just as in tennis itself. The qualities that players demonstrate during their matches — fight, intensity, the desperation to win — are expected to be shelved in favor of acquiescence moments later.

“Things happen when you’re so heightened with emotions, your blood is running hot,” 24-time Grand Slam champion Novak Djokovic said in a news conference at Wimbledon.

“It’s not always easy to suppress that and put diplomacy ahead, even though it’s important to pay respect and acknowledge the success of your opponent who just beat you.”

And if a player breaks that code, even by being honest, the moment can turn quickly. Sabalenka was heavily criticized for her speech following the French Open, though largely in the context of her post-match news conference shortly afterward, in which she doubled down on the self-flagellation and suggested that she had lost the final, with Gauff barely playing any part in winning it.

In the initial speeches, Anisimova spent a similar amount of emotion on Świątek as Sabalenka did on Gauff. It was her vulnerability and humor — thanking her mother for breaking a superstition of flying in, only to see her daughter not win a game — that made her feel like a hero to the Wimbledon crowd even in defeat.

How a player reacts to a devastating moment is personal, and in other sports, the losers are normally able to process them in private. At the 2023 U.S. Open, which Sabalenka also lost to Gauff after winning the first set, she smashed her racket in what she thought was a private room, but a rolling camera captured it and it was broadcast to the world.

Ahead of their final, both players reflected on their last experience of being on stage after defeat. Anisimova said in a news conference last week that she was “really happy with the way I was able to manage and still speak on court at the ceremony and try to embrace the moment and enjoy it as best as I could.

“When I left the locker room, I was just happy with the way I was able to carry myself, because that was the only thing in my control.” That has not changed from the day of the Wimbledon final, when she said that she intended to “acknowledge everything that I’ve done the last two weeks and all the people that have helped me get there.”

Sabalenka’s views have changed over time. “What happened in Paris is definitely not going to happen here,” she said in a news conference after beating Jessica Pegula to reach the final.

“I learned that lesson, and I will never behave that way. It’s not me. I was super emotional. I let it go and let emotions take control over me, and it’s not who I am. It’s never gonna happen again.”

The ubiquity of these speeches means players who are often at the sharp end of Grand Slams acquire skills and strategies for managing them, but they also emphasize the emotional stress they induce. The commentators who have to stage-manage them also learn how different stars approach them. BBC commentator Annabel Croft appreciates how two sporting gladiators come together at the end, while Carillo, the former player and broadcaster who has conducted many U.S. Open final interviews, likes the “sweaty interview” for its rawness.

Danielle Collins of the U.S. said to a few reporters at Wimbledon: “I do think that athletes and other celebrities, I guess, are held to a different standard, but we’re not politicians.” Ronayne observes that tennis players are asked to do what coaches do in most sports, but unlike coaches, rhetorical inspiration is not a core skill for players.

Novak Djokovic, always guaranteed to give a gracious runner-up speech, is “second to none,” according to Croft. “He’s always engaged in the question and layers his answers,” she said.

“He doesn’t just take a question and quickly chuck it away.”

Being a great tennis champion does not mean being a great orator. After losing August’s Canadian Open final to Victoria Mboko, Naomi Osaka forgot to congratulate the 18-year-old Canadian. She later apologized, explaining that she felt “in a daze” and did not want to repeat two other speeches — one at Indian Wells in 2018 and one following the Australian Open final in 2021, in which she asked her beaten opponent Jennifer Brady whether she preferred “Jenny” or “Jennifer.” Brady replied, ”Jenny.” Osaka addressed her as “Jennifer.”

Osaka’s management strategy is writing something down in advance, endearingly working her way through a victory speech against Petra Kvitová at the 2019 Australian Open before saying, “I read notes before this, but I still forgot the rest of what I am supposed to say.”

Most players want to avoid tempting fate by counterbalancing any possible complacency or fatalism. Mirra Andreeva, who has started saying “I’d like to thank me” in victory speeches, said she heard the quote from the American rapper Snoop Dogg. She doesn’t write things down beforehand, but said in a news conference that after finals, “maybe sometimes you can see me mumbling a little bit.”

The contrasting strategies dovetail with the obligations on each character in the story. It might appear that more would be expected of the winner, as the protagonist, but the emotions involved make the runner-up’s speech most complicated. “It is one of the most challenging moments as a tennis player,” former world No. 1 Maria Sharapova said in July on the First We Feast YouTube channel.

“I do find that in some of those moments you get to know an individual’s personality … Your character comes through with how you’re handling difficult situations, so part of being on the podium as a runner-up, I ultimately think sets you up for winning.”

Some in tennis wish that the genuineness of the runners-up speech could carry over into authenticity that includes resentment or self-flagellation, like that which Sabalenka displayed at the French Open.

“I’d love to be like, ‘I don’t like you,’” Frances Tiafoe said in a news conference ahead of the U.S. Open.

“I wish there was a lot more of that, because, I mean, like you lose a tough match. ‘Oh, man, I’m so happy for you.’ No, you’re not. Like, you’re not. You’re just not.”

Ronayne said that looking for something genuine should include negative emotions. “If struggling to be genuine, avoid the subject. ‘They were the better player…’ — if you don’t feel it, don’t say it.”

Djokovic’s solution is to vent in the privacy of the locker room, taking advantage of time to decompress, but the immediacy of the runner-up speech disallows this.

“When you lose a heartbreaker, it’s hard to bounce back and three minutes later there’s a microphone in your face,” Australian Open champion — and 2017 beaten U.S. Open finalist — Madison Keys said in an interview in April. “But I think it’s just part of the job and you kind of know that when you make a final, whether you win or you lose, you’re going to be giving a speech.

“I think that the ones that are good just feel really genuine and usually the ones where people get emotional, either winning or losing. Like Andy (Murray) trying to speak and I would start sobbing.”

Murray is the sine qua non of men’s Grand Slam final runner-up speeches. He had to give eight of them and delivered some killer lines. After losing to Roger Federer at the 2010 Australian Open final, a tearful Murray said: “I can cry like Roger, it’s just a shame I can’t play like him.”

At Wimbledon two years later, Murray transformed public perceptions of him with a raw speech after losing a fourth straight Grand Slam final. “I’m getting closer,” he said, before his voice broke along with many people’s hearts. Ronayne said that the lack of rhetorical devices in most speeches made Murray stand out, while the player himself said the Wimbledon speech was the first time that he “really showed (his) emotions to the public, and from there I probably felt a bit more comfortable opening up.”

Federer also endeared himself to many when he sobbed after winning his first Wimbledon title in 2003, humorously ending the interview by hoisting up the trophy as he collapsed into tears.

After the 2021 U.S. Open final, the beaten finalist Leylah Fernandez offered a beautiful example of connecting with a crowd emotionally. Her defeat to Emma Raducanu was played on the 20th anniversary of 9/11, and addressing the crowd directly, she said: “On this day, I know it is especially hard for New York and everyone around the United States.

“I just want to say I hope I can be as strong and as resilient as New York has been the past 20 years. Thank you for always having my back, thank you for cheering for me. I love you New York and hope to see you next year.”

No matter the strategy, the on-court interview generates nerves for the people on both sides of the equation. Jim Courier, a former world No. 1 and Tennis Channel analyst at the U.S. Open, charmed the 1992 French Open crowd by speaking in fluent French. “Je parle francais comme une vâche espagnole,” Courier joked. “I speak French like a Spanish cow.”

Courier now asks the questions at the Australian Open.

“What Naomi said, what Aryna said, anyone who’s had their dreams dashed, and I’ve been there, it’s awfully hard to go put on a smiley face and say, quote unquote ‘the right things.’ I think they should be granted a lot of room for saying the real things.

“Having said that, we’ve all become conditioned to graceful losing in tennis, and I wouldn’t be disappointed if the runners-up didn’t have to speak and didn’t have to stay there for the trophy ceremony. It’s almost cruel what we ask our athletes to go through.”

Some speeches are even more remarkable, like one example involving Carillo and Martina Navratilova in the 1980s. Navratilova had just lost to Andrea Jaeger, but it was a round-robin match, and Carillo was confident she could go and grab Navratilova and have a decent post-match chat.

“Martina asks, ‘Do you really want to know?’ I’m nodding, and in her inimitable way, she says, ‘Well, it’s my time of month.’ We’re live on air and I’m thinking, ‘Christ, why did I think this was a good idea?’ And then … She’s really going through her menstrual cycle. Anyway, she finishes up and she says, ‘I’ll be OK, I’ll play much better tomorrow.’ And my producer’s yelling in my ear.

“So, in throwing it back upstairs to the booth, I said: ‘All right, so you heard it guys, it just wasn’t Martina’s night. Period.’”

(Top photo: Elsa / Getty Images)