No one on planet Earth plays tennis with Aryna Sabalenka’s level of intensity. She is ferocious, a trait that’s helped her become the top-ranked tennis player in the world. But that ferociousness has also led to some awkward moments and a few regrets, which is why Sabalenka—our second Mavericks of Sports cover—is trying hard to mellow out off the court. It’s working … some of the time. You can read my interview with Sabalenka below and/or watch my What I’ve Learned interview with her on YouTube.
—Michael Sebastian, editor in chief
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The world’s best tennis player is known for a degree of passion that sometimes tips into fury. As she perfects her ability to relax, she’s somehow getting even better.
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In her eleven years as a professional tennis player, Aryna Sabalenka has argued with line judges, yelled at coaches, mocked opponents, and smashed countless rackets to smithereens. Along the way, she’s won four Grand Slam titles and currently stands as the top-ranked female tennis player in the world. The twenty-seven-year-old is the most explosive and thrilling tennis player right now, male or female.
But when my interview with Sabalenka was over, and I went for a handshake, she said in her Belarusan accent, “No, I would like to give you a hug.” Then the most dominant and ferocious tennis player in the world wrapped her arms around me.
Who was this person, the one gently rubbing my back?
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“One of the most frustrating things about life—or sport, if you’d like—is most of the time you don’t get out of it what you put into it. You have to make your peace with that.”
This is Tommy Fleetwood, thirty-five, preaching to me over a video call from the SoFi Center, the grand cathedral of golf’s newest prime-time-TV product, the TMRW Golf League (TGL). He speaks softly and politely, and he’s handsome, with beautiful hair that frames his face. Golf, one of the best sports for nicknames, has dubbed him “Fairway Jesus.” And like his namesake, he’s been largely defined by what other people say about him—golf commentators saying he needs more trophies, fellow pros endlessly describing what a nice guy he is. So let him preach.
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How many bites of a turkey burger do you allow a man before you challenge him on why he’s not the new coach of your football team?
Today, it’s three.
I’m at lunch with Marcus Freeman, the forty-year-old head coach of Notre Dame football, at a cozy burger-and-beer bar in Hell’s Kitchen in New York. It’s late January, when most NFL teams have just finished filling their head-coaching vacancies. Many believed that Freeman—considered one of the sport’s greatest young leaders—would’ve had his pick of coveted gigs in New York, Baltimore, and my hometown: Pittsburgh. He not only declined to interview with any team but also agreed to a new contract with the Fighting Irish. So I respectfully wonder aloud why we’re not clinking Yuenglings to the future of Steelers football right now.
Freeman flashes a smile, then turns studious. “I had some conversations with higher-ups in the NFL,” he says. “They all usually start with conversations about our current players and turn into: Would you be interested in making a transition to the NFL?”
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