Zverev's recent serving woes belie larger questions

It was a few days into this brave new year, and the think pieces about Alexander Zverev's big-stage performances and mechanical woes had already begun. For one: *The Guardian*, which frames him as a part-time model who lucked into a late-season surge in 2019 results and rattles off Billie Jean King's "pressure is privilege" line as if he believes it.

Zverev's final months of 2019 included clinching the Laver Cup for Team Europe, topping Roger Federer in three sets at the ATP Masters 1000 event in Shanghai and going on an exhibition tour alongside the Swiss. He seemed to be recalibrating after months upon months of desultory match outcomes, early exits, and performing a range of tasks that his nonexistent manager and agent would normally handle (emails, logistics, and so on).

Then the inaugural ATP Cup happened, where Zverev's words and deeds, namely in a showdown with Stefanos Tsitsipas, one year his junior, brought "meltdown" back into the steady dialogue about him.

There's the classic rub: If you're not telling your own story, and letting your racquet do the talking to boot, the story is certainly being told about you, for you.

Right now, Zverev's racquet is speaking the truth that his errors, his faults, are coming in pairs. While many players have suffered the so-called "yips" on serve over the years—Elena Dementieva and Ana Ivanovic readily spring to mind—none has done so who, at his 6'6" height, is proverbially serving out of a tree.

As Giri Nathan wrote for *Racquet* magazine, "Zverev has racked up 31 double faults in 33 service games, and has had his serve broken 12 times in that span, at times glumly rolling the ball in. Racquets have been spiked. Unsettling tirades have been launched at, or at least near, Germany coach Boris Becker. On one changeover: 'I don’t understand it. I just can’t hit a proper serve. I just can’t. Tell me, what should I do? My groundstrokes from the baseline are fine, everything else works solidly. But I just can’t hit a proper serve! F— me.' On another changeover: a whole mess of outrageously profane Russian that reduced dad/coach Alexander Sr. to tears. This is genuinely sad."

Zverev the Younger's serve has been so maligned that his fellow 22-year-old, WTA star Belinda Bencic, roasted him on Twitter at the same time she shared goodwill intentions related to the Australian bushfires. He likewise suffered when Nick Kyrgios, a hero of the bushfire relief efforts, mockingly did push-ups every time Zverev hit a double-fault against his compatriot, Alex de Minaur, in their ATP Cup singles match. (For the record, Kyrgios performed 14 push-ups during said match.)

Again, you're either telling your own story, or others will happily patch it together for you.

The still-promising NextGen star's problems probably aren't vertical, but rather horizontal—as in, they're entirely about what's contained between his ears. His best move post-Melbourne: Get someone else to handle the phone calls, the inbox, the lawyerly stuff.

If and how Zverev puts it together Down Under this month will be telling. He begins his attempt at the title—one he has already un-confidently said he doesn't expect to truly compete for—against No. 76 Marco Cecchinato. In an Australian Open lead-in piece, six of TENNIS.com's nine previewers said they expected him to be the "bust" of the ATP Top 10.

If the world No. 7 still finds favor with the gods of tennis, he might make this major's opening day the start of an open season. At the same time: Achtung, baby.