Australian sport runs on mateship, like much of society here. So it was no surprise when the wagons circled after Bernard Tomic embarrassed the tennis community with a withering attack on Lleyton Hewitt (whose own rebellious streak once was legendary).
Tomic has always been an outsider and is determinedly so now, claiming Hewitt has frozen him out of the Davis Cup team. Thus freed from the mates’ code of loyalty, he has lashed out, and those still close to the captain have turned their back on him, even Nick Kyrgios.
“It’s all Lleyton. I’m going to say it honestly, no-one likes him anymore,” Tomic said after going out in the first round here on Monday.
Surely Kyrgios, once a partner in youthful swagger with Tomic, would back him? Not quite. After he fell in a sweary heap on Tuesday night, dazzled by the power of Milos Raonic’s serve and burdened by a sore knee, he preferred to train his frustration on his inquisitors.
It’s worth looking at his exchange with one reporter in full.
Kokkinakis – Kyrgios’s mate – was similarly dismissive. “I don’t really want to answer that stuff right now,” he said when it was put to him on Tuesday that he and Kyrgios were in conflict with Hewitt, as well. “I’m just pissed off I lost tonight, retired [having to quit with a sore shoulder against Taro Daniel]. That’s all I’m saying for that.”
Hewitt also had laughed off the Tomic broadside. “It’s kind of Bernie being Bernie,” he said, “especially after a loss last night and going in and complaining about a few things. So, for me, I kind of just laugh it off and move forward.”
Which is the old formula. Move on. They do so because it is easy to “laugh it off” when Bernie is being Bernie. But, while he will never have a career in diplomacy, he is entitled to his opinion, and there seems to be a grain of justification there.
The source of it all is that Tomic a long time ago snubbed Hewitt, refusing to hit with the legend who, alone and for years, was the “little Aussie battler”, a sunburnt hero from central casting, taking on the world and winning. Bernie, guided by his father, didn’t want to be part of that club, though. They were immigrants. They’d do it their way.
Nevertheless, Tomic could play a bit. He and Hewitt resolved their differences, and were even close for a while. Tomic rose to No17 in the world and all looked well from the outside.
But Tomic was miffed two years ago when asked to play for a wildcard at the Australian Open. The subtext was that, if he did so, his place was assured, regardless of the result. All he had to do was toe the line. He did not do so.
Without central funding and now an outcast, he drifted further away from the mates’ club. When he lost on day one, he exploded. The secret was out. There was trouble in paradise, it seemed – although strongly denied by those still basking in the sun.
Australian cricket has just been through a similar charade with sandpapergate, everyone shuffling their feet as the truth eked out, followed by tears, promises of a clean-up and then the ritual public rehab of battered reputations. Moving on.
But you have to know how to play the game. Tomic swings a racket as sweetly as anyone in tennis, but he doesn’t know how to play the game the way his former mates do.