He’s almost there.
About 2am on Saturday, Nick Kyrgios will step onto Centre Court at Wimbledon.
Alongside him will be Rafael Nadal, the man with more majors than any other. It will be the Spaniard’s 38th appearance in a grand slam semi-final and Kyrgios’ first.
The task for Kyrgios is within touching distance yet daunting beyond reason.
Nadal, the king of clay, is no slouch on grass, a two-time winner at the All England Club and should the Aussie prevail, the six-time champion Novak Djokovic most likely awaits in Sunday’s final.
“It would probably be the most-watched (match) of all time,” says Kyrgios of his last-four clash.
The cards though, as they have all tournament and in the most jumbling of ways, are steadily falling his way.
Kyrgios trails Nadal 6-3 head to head, but has beaten him before at this arena – albeit eight years ago now.
The time lapse will not matter to Nick one jot, he knows he can do it and at 27 years old is in his prime.
There is momentum too, he has 12 wins for two losses on grass this northern summer.
Little, of course, is straightforward with Kyrgios although this time the uncertainty stems from the Spaniard.
Nadal, as ever, is injured, a new one, his abdomen, which caused him no end of pain in his five-set quarter-final win over American Taylor Fritz. He is, by no stretch of the imagination guaranteed to even show up against Kyrgios.
“For a lot of moments I was thinking I would not be able to finish the match, but the crowd, the energy (helped),” Nadal said of Wednesday night’s match.
His father and sister implored him to retire, to no avail.
Kyrgios will not take comfort from his foe’s woes. Playing a wounded opponent can be dastardly and never bet against Nadal in any event.
But, first Kyrgios.
Twelve Australian men have won the singles title at Wimbledon all up, Lleyton Hewitt the last champ 20 years ago.
There is some irony that Kyrgios, the misfit or pioneer dependent on your viewpoint, could be No.13, although it is baggage not bad luck that has enveloped him these championships.
Just consider what Canberra’s finest has brought with him.
Match one against a run-of-the-mill Englishman Paul Jubb, whose spirited play disguised an average showing from a Kyrgios more focused on outing a line judge as a snitch, wittering incessantly to the umpire between breaks and spitting, allegedly, towards a spectator.
‘Why is this most cretinous player at Wimbledon?’ asked a UK tabloid, a not entirely unfair query.
Match two and a seamless win over Filip Krajinovic, well played, well behaved. Then that match with No.4 seed Stefanos Tsitsipas, the spellbinding morphing seamlessly with the sleazy.
‘Nasty Nick’ Kyrgios
‘Nasty Nick’ spouted the UK hacks, ‘a bully’ said Stefanos, ‘cheating’ cried Australia’s Pat Cash, the champ in 1987.
Round four was better if imperfect still, more whinging and cocky from the off, a red shoes and red hatted entrance on court in defiance of Wimbledon’s all-white clothing stance.
I know the rules, I wear what I want, smarmed our Aussie.
His apparel faux pas was as obvious as a strawberry on a bed of fresh cream, but out he strode onto the No.1 show court, not an official with balls in sight.
During the match two suited, beefed-up bouncers lurked behind Nick at the changeovers, one a near-identikit version of long-time BBC EastEnders hard man Phil Mitchell, the other distinguishable by the range of tattoos stretching upwards over his collar.
And we wondered why no one dared ask Nick what he was wearing.
I’m a fun guy, beamed Kyrgios afterwards, people want to hang out with me. Leave me alone, no, don’t leave me alone. Don’t look at me, no look.
On his day, he is near unstoppable, reimagining the way his sport is played and consumed – crash, bang, wallop, whinge and repeat. And very quickly too.
As Cash noted in the Tsitsipas match, the ball kids were still haring across the court when Kyrgios began his service motion seconds after the previous point.
It was not only professionalism that propelled them so quickly from one side of the net to the other.
As stirring as the tennis has been, the post-match press conferences have been infinitely more entertaining this past week and a half.
Before he had even spoken on day one, the tone was set as the ravenous ‘Mr K’ sloped in with a tray of sushi in hand and proceeded to devour it in front of a befuddled, if unimpressed, paparazzi.
He is a large man and the tray was tiny, but rather than slurp it down behind the curtain, he decided public consumption was the way to go.
His media call after the straight-sets quarter-final win over Cristian Garin was stunning in its simplicity and power. Engaged but not enraged, this was Nick the humble, the forthright, the expansive, the man.
The red cap and shoes were back, but inhabited an almost entirely different persona.
Sushi and other distractions were not on offer and for 15 minutes Nick hardly twitched, fronting up to every question, intelligence and clarity to the fore.
Had he been asked his thoughts on the now-deposed British Prime Minister Boris Johnson, nothing less than an erudite and insightful response would have been expected. Should the incoming PM come calling for a new head of communications then Nick should not be surprised to get the call. He was that good.
A very different court
This circus never ends though and as we learned on Tuesday, Kyrgios will face a wholly less appealing court appearance next month when he appears before magistrates in Canberra in relation to a charge of common assault, a former girlfriend the alleged victim.
Even the obvious interrogation on this topic – and it came right at the start – didn’t outwardly cause any unease.
“I have been advised by my lawyers that I am unable to say anything at this time. I can’t give you much on that right now,” he said. He seemed genuine.
“It didn’t really affect me at all,” he banged on, before a disclaimer. “I’m only human. It was hard to kind of focus on the mission at hand.”
Ten minutes in, the probing came back to his legal battle.
“I can’t answer that, ’’ he said, calmness personified, when asked when he heard about the summons.
To his left, the interview supervisor was flapping, but Nick was resolute. You had the feeling this was not an avoidance, that he’d have spoken up if he could. In this tuned down, sombre and reflective mode he was mesmerising.
His last answer was his best. Asked about his mum, Norlaila, Kyrgios confirmed that she felt it impossible as a parent to follow, let alone watch his matches.
She has a pacemaker he revealed, it’s stressful for her. She has a new grandson George, a week old only and has to feed Kyrgios’ dogs at home in Canberra.
“I’m glad she is able to keep an eye on me from home,” he said. “It’s been a pretty eventful couple of days for Mr Kyrgios.”
As for the final – where Djokovic must first overcome Britain’s Cameron Norrie in the first semi-final – Kyrgios will be feeling at ease.
He has played the Serb twice and, remarkably, beaten him twice, not a set dropped.
They do not like each other, at all. It is typical Kyrgios and a match for the ages.
But first Nadal. He’s almost there.
