Love All? Not Anymore

The new Mixed Doubles at the US Open left little room for love or fairness in its pursuit of spectacle, trading tradition and craft for celebrity and profit. What was once tennis’s purest expression of partnership has been repackaged as entertainment, leaving the specialists who built the discipline fighting for space in their own game. In the name of modernisation, the sport’s most collaborative format risks losing its soul.

In July 2025, the United States Tennis Organisation announced a star-studded lineup for the Mixed Open in New York City, billing it as a bold reinvention. Yet the move felt less like innovation and more like a spectacle. The line-up saw the top-seeded singles stars from the WTA and ATP tours teaming up. Some of the pairs included Alcaraz-Raducanu, Pegula-Draper, and even the legend Venus Williams, who took part by pairing up with Riley Opelka. The event featured a two-day, fast-track format and a record $1 million winner’s prize for the winners, the highest purse of any slam in the calendar year. The matches deviated from tradition, using sets played to four games, sudden death at deuce, and a 10-point tiebreak instead of a third set, with the final set reverting to six games.

Fan Favourites Emma Raducanu and Carlos Alcaraz in the match against Jack Draper and Jessica Pegula (Source: Mathew Stockman)

The organisers aimed to ‘modernise’ Mixed Doubles, but it was clearly a money-grab to boost profits for the Open. From a commercial perspective, this move made sense. Mixed Doubles Tennis has failed to engage a wider tennis-watching audience. In 2022, the tournament's final drew around 150,000 American viewers, while the Women’s Singles attracted roughly five times that number. This disparity arises because Mixed Doubles lacks prime-time slots and is relegated to off-court venues, with marketing focused primarily on singles events. As a result, low viewership creates a vicious cycle of minimal attention and publicity, further diminishing audience numbers.

To break free from this repetitive cycle of underwhelming mixed doubles events, the US Open strategically decided to leverage the immense fan bases of the singles stars. By opting for a shorter format and scheduling just before the US Open, they aimed to capture maximum media attention while minimising player fatigue. This approach appeared smart on the surface: star-studded lineups drove ticket sales, boosted broadcasting rights, and attracted major sponsorships. Broadcasters enjoyed the chance to air matches outside prime-time slots. At the same time, social media campaigns created buzz with exclusive behind-the-scenes content, presenting the event as an unmissable showcase of fan-favourite athletes. However, it became apparent that this rebranding focused more on profit than on genuinely expanding the audience for mixed doubles. The format shifted into a commercial experiment rather than sparking a true revival of the discipline.

The hyper-commercialisation of the slam came at a steep price for mixed doubles specialists. Many dedicated athletes found themselves sidelined, excluded from an event that they had put in decades of training for. Those fortunate enough to enter did so only as wild card entries, while seasoned professionals were left out in the cold. Ironically, this so-called exhibition event boasted a prize pool five times larger than what was awarded to the main event winners last year. The doors were slammed shut on these athletes, stripping them of glory and denying them a crucial financial boost that could have transformed their careers. The impact is not just short-term; it could reshape the professional landscape for years to come.

Mastery of the doubles game is no easy feat and requires a distinct skill set, vastly different to that of the singles game. In singles, athleticism and an individual's skill take precedence; doubles glory hinges on the nuanced chemistry between players, along with specialised strategies and techniques that take years or even decades to master at a professional level. It demands heightened reflexes at the net. The doubles court is also a completely different psychological arena. Each point is shared, which means players not only manage their own nerves but must support their partner through errors or pressure moments. The mental resilience to stay synchronised under pressure and the ability to adapt dynamically to partners’ strengths or weaknesses are critical. All of this is not built in a matter of weeks, but takes years to build on.

The final between Świątek/Ruud and Errani/Vavassori was a showcase of what makes doubles tennis a discipline of its own. The Italians stood as the last defenders of a tradition that prizes instinct and partnership over spectacle. Ruud and Świątek were able to produce cleaner groundstrokes and controlled many of the baseline exchanges, a reflection of their technical polish. The contest was decided in subtler dimensions: awareness of space, precision at the net, and the intuition that only years of partnership can cultivate. Errani and Vavassori moved with purpose and precision, their understanding almost telepathic. The duo’s transitions to the net were seamless, volleys measured and firm, choices deliberate. Communication flowed constantly, in small gestures and glances, enough to anticipate each other’s intent. Their reading of the return was instinctive, almost second nature. To the credit of Ruud and Swiatek, the pair did well to take a set and push the match into a deciding tiebreak. Yet it was there that the difference in the doubles' pedigree became unmistakable. Ruud and Świątek’s occasional uncertainty, by contrast, grew more visible under pressure. In the end, what separated the two sides wasn’t talent or power, but fluency,  the ability to read not just the ball, but each other.

Swiatek and Ruud after securing their spot in the Finals (Source: Reuters)

In many ways, the final was more than a contest; it was a reminder of what mixed doubles has always represented. Long before it was repackaged for spectacle, the format stood for something deeper, a version of tennis rooted in balance, trust, and equality. Mixed doubles has never merely been an afterthought in tennis. Its origins stretch back to the late nineteenth century, when the sport was still finding its place in modern society. The first recorded mixed doubles event, held at the 1888 U.S. National Championships, arrived at a time when men and women rarely competed on the same field, let alone as partners. In that sense, it was quietly radical. The format represented a version of tennis that valued partnership over power, understanding over dominance. It redefined competition as collaboration, showing that grace, trust, and timing could hold their own against the spectacle of raw athleticism. Through the early decades of the twentieth century, mixed doubles stood apart as a reflection of social change, offering a rare arena where equality was not just preached but played. It came to symbolise what tennis, at its best, aspired to be, a sport where success could be shared, and where the beauty of the game lay as much in harmony as in individual mastery.

As the sport evolved through wars, social reform, and the professional era, mixed doubles quietly endured, adapting yet retaining its spirit. It reflected the changing face of tennis itself from a pastime of the elite to a global sport, where unity across divides was possible not through uniformity, but through partnership. Each generation brought its own interpretation of that balance: the 1920s pairing of Suzanne Lenglen and René Lacoste embodied elegance and precision; Billie Jean King and Owen Davidson in the 1960s represented progress and equality in motion. Even in the modern era, when power and pace came to dominate, mixed doubles continued to remind tennis of its more human dimensions.

For decades, mixed doubles carried the spirit of equality that tennis once dared to imagine. To see that legacy reduced to marketing and celebrity pairings felt less like innovation and more like amnesia, a forgetting of what the format once stood for. The decision to pivot to this format sent a loud and clear message to the tennis world: Mixed doubles, even at its most elite, was not valued, and the history of the event and the very philosophy of Grand Slam Tennis were ready to be sacrificed in the name of profits. The legendary Billie Jean King, being the advocate for the sport that she is, was profoundly against these changes. The 5-time US Open Mixed Doubles champion stated that the shift to quicker sets and celebrities eroded the value of the trophy. The shift seemed to focus on the short-term TV ratings and audience approvals rather than cultivating long-term competitiveness and growth. The takeaway for young and upcoming players would be that Mixed doubles simply has no space in the grand scheme of tennis. It sends the message that singles tennis is all that matters. This would dry up the pipeline of future specialists, as there would be no path to Grand Slam glory and recognition, and no way to make a career out of it. 

Andrea Vavassori and Sara Errani celebrate their second consecutive US Open triumph (Source: ATP)

Change, in every sport, is a negotiation between evolution and preserving the essence of what it stands for. A parallel to tennis could be drawn to the transformation brought about by T20 cricket. When T20 burst onto the scene, it drifted away from the tradition-bound roots of first-class and one-day cricket. Purists lamented the loss of artistry and specialist skills, but the broader cricketing community saw an explosion in viewership, sponsorship, and the development of new fan bases. Cricket didn’t abandon tradition; Test and one-day formats still exist. T20 just made the game more accessible, ensuring its survival and growth in a new era.

Tennis now faces a similar choice, but can take a more balanced path with mixed doubles. The format deserves specialists, not single stars. Tennis must guarantee spots for dedicated doubles players and build rivalries around their unique chemistry. These partnerships should be spotlighted with prime-time scheduling and real media coverage, making mixed doubles a main event, not an afterthought. Promoting the craft through storytelling, social media, and fan engagement that highlights the strategy, skill, and teamwork unique to doubles will grow a loyal, understanding fanbase. It ensures that mixed doubles can stand on its own feet, and not on borrowed celebrity. 

Change is inevitable; how to navigate it is a choice. The challenge for tennis now is to ensure that mixed doubles, amid all the spectacle and profit-chasing, remains a genuine celebration of partnership and equality. Done thoughtfully, reform can serve tradition as much as commerce, letting the heart of the sport endure even as its form evolves.