#Daniil Medvedev x Stefanos Tsitsipas

[kelloggsenthusiast]

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[gamesetattach]

The Space Between Us

Jannik Sinner x Reader Everyone loves reader, but Jannik Sinner doesn't even entertain her. Lowkey enemies to lovers, but not. Also features little bit of hurt/comfort nurturing done by our one and only Number 1. Warnings include... bruising from tennis ball, being on camera, knee/wrist scrapes.

---

You hadn’t expected to become part of the show.

When you started as a production assistant for the ATP media team, your job had been simple, clear, and exactly what you expected: you were to coordinate filming schedules, ideate content, make sure players hit their marks, and keep production running smoothly behind the scenes. But somewhere along the way, your role evolved.

It started with small moments—an off-camera laugh, an accidental cameo, a joke that made a player break mid-sentence that got included in the final cut. Viewers loved it. They liked the way you interacted with the players; how you didn’t treat them as untouchable stars, but as regular people who just happened to be absurdly good at tennis. They liked when you broke the fourth wall, chiming in with a quick quip or offering the occasional exasperated sigh when a player inevitably went off script. The players on screen were always relaxed and enthused when you were the one asking the questions, and it was notable difference from their standard, somewhat reluctant attitude when it came to being on video.

And soon enough, what had initially been incidental became intentional.

“People love you, and the players take to you more than anyone else,” one of the media coordinators had said, grinning as they showed you a comment thread. Who is the new PA? We need more of her. ATP media gold. This girl has more chemistry with the players than half the tour does with their rackets.

And so, bit by bit, you became a part of the content. You still worked behind the camera, but now, more often than not, you were pulled in front of it too. Players fed off your energy, teasing you, joking with you, dragging you into their antics. You were quick-witted and could hold your own, and that made the scenes all the more entertaining.

Ben Shelton was a frequent culprit, often grinning at the camera as it began to film before tugging you into frame for whatever nonsense he was up to. "Come on, tell them you think my backhand’s the best on tour. I know you've said it before."

"I don’t lie on camera, Ben, and you shouldn't either. That's not what the internet is for," you shot back, deadpan, making Shelton and the crew erupt in laughter.

Andrey Rublev wasn’t much better. He would often break into one of his slow-growing, broad smiles mid-answer at your expressions. "What do you think, then? Why you making me laugh? Don't make such faces."

"I didn't say or do anything. Just answer the question." You said with some effort to sound serious, trying and failing to hide your own laughter.

"Ahh, you’re a bad influence," he teased, pointing at the camera. "She’s corrupting me."

Then there was Stefanos Tsitsipas, who always felt the need to turn the question asking back to you. "Last one for you—if you had to pick someone on tour to be your mixed doubles partner, who would it be?"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Probably Daniil."

Daniil Medvedev had conveniently just walked into the studio to follow Stefanos for filming, which of course hadn't influenced your answer at all. Stepping on the white backdrop and leaning into the camera's view, he raised a smug brow. "See? She has good taste."

The players adored you, on and off set, and it came through to the viewers. Every time a new ATP video went up, the comment sections were flooded with fans demanding more of your cameos. You had this way about you that brought out the most authentic parts of the players, and you had come to make up the very fabric of the content; the favorite behind-the-scenes personality of both the audience and the athletes.

Most loved it. They leaned into it, really.

Well, all except Jannik Sinner.

---

At first, you hadn’t thought much of it. Some players were more reserved than others, and that was fine. You knew how to read the room, knew when to push and when to back off.

But Jannik?

Jannik was different.

You never could get a read on him. You tried—more than you had with anyone else, actually. You'd make jokes when setting up his content, throw out some light teasing to see if you could get a reaction. And you did—kind of, sometimes... maybe. You thought you'd caught a few almost-smiles, some fleeting amusement in his eyes before he schooled his expression back into his default detachment. Though you definitely did see the way his jaw would often clench in response, almost like it pained him to humor you.

And he never engaged the way the others would. He gave you only what was necessary—short answers, nods, the occasional one-word reply when prompted. No banter, absolutely no participation in your antics. Just polite professionalism and an impenetrable wall of disinterest.

If he didn’t like you, fine. You could be civil. You could still do your job. And you weren’t going to waste any more energy trying to crack someone who clearly didn’t want to be.

So, you stopped trying altogether.

You were still lively and fun in your role, still joking and teasing with the other players, but when it came to Jannik? You were decidedly neutral. Professional. Just as he was to you. It was simply another transactional work obligation, and you were just another assistant ensuring his content was filmed and uploaded on time.

And if he noticed the shift, he didn’t say anything.

Not that you expected him to.

---

Your first media meeting with the players attending had been going smoothly—just a standard PR and media planning session at the beginning of the season with ATP players and the media team, updating the athletes on procedures and discussing upcoming content ideas. It was nothing particularly taxing, and you welcomed the opportunity to spend more time with the players you'd quickly come to call friends. At least up until someone pitched this one idea, one that made you want to curl up into a little hole: a video where players would coach ATP staff, before competing in doubles for a mini, amateur, content-farming tournament.

The concept had a great reception as soon as it was pitched, most everyone agreed it'd be a hit. It had the perfect mix of entertainment, sport, chaos, and fan service. Even the players in the room, who often felt burdened by video obligations, jumped in to support; everyone immediately started to weigh in on who should be part of the video, of who should be paired with whom. Then pretty soon, as you should have expected, someone threw your name into the mix.

You felt your stomach tighten. Playing tennis with professional athletes—on camera, for hundreds of thousands of people to consume—was a whole new level of terrifying. You liked being part of ATP content, sure, but you still felt you better fit a role that was more behind-the-scenes. Being the voice and occasional face breaking the fourth wall was all fun and games, but actually competing against players or even just playing along with them? That was something else entirely.

"You've got to be in it," Ben Shelton said pointing at you as he grinned at the rest of the room. "I mean, she's practically an honorary player at this point."

You forced a smile. "Right, right. Except for the part where I don't play professional tennis."

"That's just semantics," Stefanos Tsitsipas said. "Viewers enjoy your addition."

"Yeah, that and watching you get destroyed on court would make for great TV," Tommy Paul chimed in, chuckling beside Ben.

"I hate that you’re right," you muttered, sinking back in your chair as the discussion continued. There was no point in fighting back, so you took a deep breath, tried to release any anxiety, and allowed yourself a few moments to zone out.

Around you, they began to deliberate the player-staff pairings. Names were thrown around, debated, adjusted. And then—

"...Okay then that leaves..."

You started tuning back into the conversation just as your boss addressed you, "You’re with Jannik, then."

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, "Who, me?"

Of all the players, Jannik? You literally got along well with everyone else. Anyone else.

He was already distant enough as it was, and after months of failing to get through to him, you had quietly resigned yourself to the fact that he just wasn’t a fan of you. And that was fine. But now you had to play tennis with him? Be on a team with him?

Maybe he'd be more agreeable in his natural element, or at least you hoped he would be. Though you doubted just being on the courts would make him magically greet you with joy and cheer and sparkles.

You stole a glance at him. He was unreadable, as always, nodding at the decision without any reaction or even a look your way.

You, on the other hand, were trying not to spiral.

Fucking media team.

Now you got where the players' disdain came from.

---

After the meeting, as everyone gathered their things, you felt a someone hovering beside you. You turned to find Jannik standing there, looming over you with hands stuffed in his pockets.

"You shouldn't have to stress about it," he said, his voice even.

You just blinked at him, completely caught off guard. He'd never initiated any words with you before, like ever. "Wait, what?"

"The shoot," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I can help you practice before."

His gaze flickered toward the others leaving the room before settling back on you. "If you want, I mean. Just if you want to feel more comfortable when we film."

It was a simple offer, spoken so casually, but something about it made your heart stutter. Jannik Sinner, who had barely acknowledged you for months, was offering to help you. And he'd somehow managed to notice your worries, even if he did spend his time ignoring you.

You nodded, voice slightly unsure. "Uh—yeah. Yeah, okay. That would be… nice."

"Nine o’clock, practice courts," he said, before turning to leave.

You stared after him, still processing.

What in the hell was that?

---

At exactly 9 PM, you arrived at the courts, nerves thrumming under your skin. Jannik was already there, casually bouncing a ball on his racket, looking every bit like this was just another training session. Maybe he did these kind of evening, charity lessons all the time... you didn't know the guy after all—you laughed a little at the thought.

"You’re on time," he noted, glancing at you. "That’s good."

You scoffed. "I try to be punctual when my dignity is at stake."

He let out a quiet huff of amusement—so slight you almost missed it.

The next hour was spent going through the basics. He showed you the mechanics of different swings, his voice steady as he corrected your form. When you moved on to drills, you were surprised to find that you weren’t terrible—you picked things up quickly, and, to your delight (and maybe even his), he would murmur the occasional praise.

"That was good."

"Better."

"Nice timing."

Each acknowledgement of progress sent a strange thrill through you. You let yourself pretend it was just the adrenaline from learning something new.

After drills, he set up a small rally between you two. He went easy on you, obviously, but you both got really into it. Every time you managed to hit a decent shot, you’d throw out some cocky quip.

"That was almost an actual point! Be afraid, Sinner."

Jannik smirked—actually smirked. "I’ll try to contain my fear."

Slowly, one-liners started coming from his way too.

"That was just luck."

Or "I let you have that one."

"You wish you let me have that one." You'd shot back.

After a few back and forths, you were both laughing freely between rallies and you had forgotten why you were ever nervous in the first place.

You were missing less, hitting the balls harder, and a smile had stayed plastered on your face throughout it all.

But after one, particularly hard swing from you, Jannik returned the ball your way with full power—forgetting himself for a moment. A sharp cazzo leaving his lips as soon as his racket made contact with the ball.

It was a real hit, one with too much force and speed for you to react in time. The ball was coming straight for you, and all you could do was twist your front away from the collision. It struck your shoulder right as you turned, your balance giving away at the odd angle, sending you stumbling forward. You hit the ground hard, scraping your knees and palms.

Jannik was above you in an instant, crouching beside you before you could even process what happened.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low and urgent. His hands hovered over you, hesitating, like he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how.

You forced a laugh, wincing. "Well, I won’t be turning pro anytime soon."

But he wasn't so easily amused. He gently lifted your chin so your downcast gaze had to meet his, your eyes had welled up from the impact. He didn't waste any time, already helping you up. One hand gripping your arm, the other steadying your waist.

"Come. Let’s clean this up."

---

In the locker room, he sat you on a bench before leaving you in search of some first-aid equipment. With a squeeze of comfort on your unharmed shoulder, he'd murmured, "Wait here."

He returned with a bright red kit and came down to your level, resting the supplies on his leg. And the sight of him—Jannik Sinner, world-class athlete—kneeling between your legs, so close you could feel his breath, made your stomach flip.

His fingers were gentle as they gripped your thigh, moving upward and settling just beneath the seam of your shorts to steady your leg as his other hand cleaned the cut on your knee. You inhaled sharply, the heat of his touch searing into your skin.

“Tell me if I’m being too rough,” he said, voice barely a whisper as he worked his way down the gash. His eyes stayed trained on the wound, brows furrowed in concentration, and you found that couldn’t look away from him.

"You're not." You replied, trying to sound reassuring, but the words barely carried—cutting off as he switch to your palms. He took your hands in his own to inspect your scrapes there, his fingers traced lightly over the raw skin. His touch slow, deliberate. Your breath hitched and your fingers quivered. If he noticed, he made no sign of it—he'd yet to look up at your face.

Then, he reached around you to press his fingertips along your shoulder blade, checking for a bruise or any swelling, and you felt the warmth of his hand spread through you. You couldn't help but straighten at the touch, your back arching ever so slightly into his hand. You swallowed hard, your pulse a little too fast.

Finally, he met your eyes and held your gaze. And, for a moment, it felt like there was no space left to close. You could have counted his every lash and every freckle—you let your eyes flicker to his lips.

He blinked, exhaled with slight shake of his head and moved to sit beside you on the bench without a word, breaking the moment.

You both sat in the echoing quiet of the locker room, tension tangible in the air.

"Are you alright?" He asked, the first to break the silence.

"Yes, thank you." And because the sincerity in your words felt too heavy, you added, "Better to get the injuries out now, rather than on tape tomorrow."

He had no reply, he only nodded as he shut the first-aid tin. Neither of you moved for some minutes after that.

"I thought you couldn’t stand me," you admitted after a few more beats of silence.

He replied, and his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it, "That was never true."

Something in your chest tightened.

Not knowing how to handle the weight of it all, you forced a smile and deflected once more. "Well, I’ll still be good for the tournament. Try not be the weak link, okay?"

His lips twitched, then finally cracked into a small smile. "I’ll do my best."

You both left in silence, but the traces of your intimacy lingered. Traces of his care.

And the knowledge that something had almost happened.

That maybe, next time, it would.

---

The next day, the energy on set at the courts was electric. The ATP media team had pulled out all the stops—cameras stationed at every angle, players mic’d up, the mini “Grand Slam” trophy sitting on a table like it was an actual piece of silverware worth fighting for. There was an undeniable buzz as the filming began, and somehow, throughout all the pairings, the biggest surprise came from you and Jannik.

There was an odd contrast between you two—after last night, things still felt slightly unnatural, stiff. Like you were both hyper-aware of each other. But at the same time, you had never felt more in sync with someone.

He was always there, just within reach. When you moved, he followed. When he positioned himself on court, you instinctively slotted into place beside him. Every time he set up a shot, you knew exactly where he wanted you. It wasn’t something either of you had to vocalize—it was just something you felt.

The other players took notice immediately.

“Where did this come from?” Carlos Alcaraz muttered after you and Jannik advanced from your first round.

“I didn’t think they’d make it past the first match,” Ben Shelton added, arms crossed as he watched in disbelief.

By the semifinals, it was undeniable. You and Jannik were good together. Even in a casual, barely-serious tournament, the chemistry was obvious. You celebrated small victories with ease—when you landed a decent shot, Jannik would step forward with a closed fist, other hand on your back, murmuring, “Nice one.” In between points, he’d throw you a towel as you passed him his water, like it was second nature. The way you moved together, the way you read each other—it was like you had played as a team for years.

And then, against all odds, you won the whole damn thing.

---

As the final match point was scored, the celebration was pure instinct. You turned toward Jannik, arms outstretched in disbelief, and without hesitation, his hands found your waist, lifting you slightly in a triumphant embrace.

“Did we actually just win?” you laughed, sliding your hands down from around his neck to his chest.

His smirk was soft but victorious. “We did.”

The rest of the players groaned in exaggerated dismay.

“I don’t believe it,” Stefanos said, shaking his head.

“Who let them get this good together?” Daniil added, crossing his arms.

“This win came out of nowhere,” Ben muttered. “Did anyone see this happening?”

The mini trophy ceremony was as ridiculous as expected. The ATP staff made a grand show of presenting the tiny, poorly spray painted trophy, which Jannik took with a mock-serious nod before passing it to you.

You beamed, lifting it over your head. “I’d like to thank my coach, my trainer, my physio, and of course, my partner in crime—” You turned toward Jannik, nudging him playfully. “Bit of an underground player, but he really came alive today on the court. Couldn’t have done it without you, Sinner.”

For the first time in front of all of them, Jannik actually smiled at you, the full breadth of it. There was something warm and deeper in his gaze. “Yeah,” he said, quieter but just as certain. “We make a good team.”

---

After filming wrapped, you and Jannik found yourselves alone in the locker room again, the commotion of the day settling into something more still between just the two of you. You sat on the bench, absentmindedly spinning the tiny trophy on a finger, still amused by the absurdity of it all.

Jannik sat next to you, shoulders barely brushing. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt charged—like something was waiting to be said.

Finally, he broke it. “I meant what I said earlier.”

You turned to him, confused. “About what?”

He took a breath, eyes flickering to you before looking straight ahead again. “That we make a good team.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart stutter. Because you knew he wasn’t talking about tennis.

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the trophy. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “We do.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The air between you thick, expectant. He was so close—you could feel the heat radiating from him, see the way his jaw clicked slightly like he was holding something back. And for the second time, if you leaned in even slightly, there would be no space left to close.

And then, finally and slowly, the tension relieved itself.

Jannik shifted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear—slow, deliberate, like he was testing something. His fingers barely skimmed your skin, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You looked up at him, heart pounding. “Jannik…”

He hesitated, then, voice nothing but a whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t have to think. Didn’t want to. You just nodded.

And then his lips were on yours, soft and sure, like he had been holding back for longer then you could ever know. The tiny trophy slipped from your grip, clattering onto the bench, but neither of you noticed.

Because finally—finally—there was nothing left between you but this.

---

Cute cute!! Hope you like it xx

[mousemannation]

x | steve vivian | 30/1/2022

The unholy experience of watching Daniil Medvedev lose, even when he wins

"Will you answer my question? Look at me. I'm talking to you."

Like an irate chef taking out the night's frustrations on a down-on-their-luck kitchen hand, Daniil Medvedev delivered another masterclass in melting down during his semifinal defeat of Stefanos Tsitsipas on Friday night.

Has anyone ever sincerely asked someone, "are you stupid?", and come out of the exchange looking good?

It didn't do all that much to endear Medvedev to viewers when he posed that question to chair umpire Jaume Campistol during his semi-final meltdown, berating Campistol for doing nothing about Tsitsipas's father supposedly coaching his son from the stands.

Ironically, as the commentators pointed out on the telecast, Tsitsipas really doesn't like it when his father coaches him during games.

If this was all you knew about the two players, you might not be surprised to learn the fans leant heavily pro-Tsitsipas, leaving Medvedev again playing heel to a crowd often about as respectful to him as he was to the chair umpire.

A player throwing a wobbly is no surprise in men's tennis, but what makes the 25-year-old Russian's outlandish emotional vulnerability so thrilling is that it's such a strange case.

People differ on their approval levels of Nick Kyrgios's on-court act — the sulks you can set your watch to; part petulance, part chaos-agent showmanship — but his charisma and I'm-just-trying-to-figure-it-all-out personality can often win over even the harshest of critics.

Then you have the Medvedev outburst that, seemingly lacking all self-awareness, as if scripted to get the crowd offside, is probably best watched peaking through your fingers.

In his standard operating environment, Medvedev out rallies his opponent with a cool detachment bordering on a baffling indifference from the back of the court.

Limbs perfectly calibrated, he is somehow both gangly and efficient in his movement, combining long levers and uncomplicated form into ruthless precision.

His style, or lack thereof, appears almost as a rebuke to the flourishes and preen of the modern player.

It's in the no fuss of those two bounces before each serve. Bang. Bang. Ball toss. Whack. Unfailingly replicated without appearing premeditated. All over before most opponents would have elected which ball to use.

So where does the uncomplicated man that just wants to get on with it suddenly go?

A viewer might feel cheated by the reveal – the ruthlessness dissolving into desperation — if it wasn't so perversely endearing.

The Medvedev experience is a little like watching Eddie Brock trying to deal with his new symbiote friend in the superhero movie Venom.

Except not everyone will go in for the Russian as their hero.

As a character, he more resembles a creation by his countryman, novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky's the Underground Man — a proud guy who craves the admiration of those around him.

But when it comes to being adored, the Underground Man can only shoot himself in the foot whenever he gets the chance.

And so it was that Medvedev blew the Dorothy Dixer Jim Courier served up to him in his post-match interview following his semi-final victory.

Courier: I want to ask you … will you take a peek at Ash Barty and Danielle Collins — the women's final?

Medvedev: It depends what time they're playing … 7:30pm? I'm usually going to dinner at 8:15pm …

Courier: Come on, man. I'm trying to set you up to win this crowd over, and you're just kicking it.

But the Underground Man is an underdog — which we love — and judging by the large chip he hacks into his own shoulder each match, it seems like Medvedev believes he's the underdog, too.

Australian tennis watchers lost their pantomime villain in Novak Djokovic on the eve of the tournament.

But in Daniil Medvedev, they have a true antihero.

[alejdrgiannax]

hii i’m gianna this is my tumblr.🏳️‍🌈

i use my account to save some pics🫶🏽

football fan but also love tennis

languages: english and mandarin

(X:@giaisntjia）

⚽️football

spain nt:

arsenal fc

love all spain nt players

and i support men’s and women’s teams

🎾tennis:

carlos alcaraz

rafa nadal

daniil medvedev

stefanos tsitsipas

aryna sabalenka

…

have no one i really dislike so i focus on many players

🎧music:

lana del rey

i also love amy winehouse,lady gaga,charli xcx,chappell roan,caroline polachek,rosalía,britney spears and so on…

my fav mandarin singer:cheer chen and teresa teng

-🩶

[game-set-canet]

Sleepover weekend! Tell me about your favourite ships in the tennis fandom and if you want to, add one or two headcanons about them while you're at it. Tell me why you love those ships and what's the best part about their relationship. Bonus points if you include Fedal :D

oh, I love this!! 😍😍

let’s start in a classic way: I love Roger/Rafa! but let’s be honest: who doesn’t? it’s not very hard to ship these two with each other - I mean, they even ship themselves! 😄

-) Roger always wakes up before Rafa in the morning and he enjoys the chance to see his boyfriend like this: relaxed, deeply asleep. Often Roger would just lie there and watch Rafa for a few more minutes, letting him sleep in while he got up to prepare breakfast

And although I LOVE them together I couldn’t think of any more headcanons at the moment…but I’ll think about it 😂

*** *** ***

Stefanos/Daniil – I have a thing for this “enemies to lovers”/”hate to love” kind of fanfics and who would be better for that than the two of them?

-) neither of them has ever said "I love you" out loud. never. they show it through gestures.

-) Daniil would never admit it, but since they are together, he can't really fall asleep without holding Stef in his arms, without feeling his soft hair against his cheek and hearing Stef’s yawned "good night"

-) Stef loves to take photos of Daniil - his phone is full of photos of him. Serious ones, goofy ones, really really beautiful ones and some X-rated ones. Daniil has only a handful of photos of Stefanos, each one special. His favourite one is a screenshot he took from a facetime with Stef, where Stef fall asleep: facial expression so soft and relaxed, lips twisted into a little smile - Daniil loves this photo

-) “So, is it just sex?” – “You really think I would spend my day with Daniil Medvedev, who can be so cocky, sarcasm and know-it-all like no one else just for sex?” – silence - “So, is it love?” - Stefanos turned his head away, he didn't say a word, but Nick understood the silent answer, grinned and began to hum the wedding march to himself, but loud enough for Stef to hear. Stefanos blushed.

*** *** ***

Nick/Jack – I mean, I don’t even know if there is someone shipping them and although I adore their friendship so so much, I can picture them as a lovely couple as well

-) Jack had never thought that anyone could love a person as much as he loved Nick and yet he knew that Nick loved him even more and Jack doesn’t understand this since he was nothing special, average and yet Nick looks at him like he is the most beautiful, amazing person on earth.

-) Nick would be lying if he said the latest article about him didn't hurt him; the journalist wrote a lot of disrespectful stuff and although Nick never let on, the hatefulness hurt but he never told anyone that he does care about those headlines. "I've already talked to our lawyer," Jack said that without further explanation and Nick gave him a questioning look, "What?" - "I said I've already talked to our lawyer. We're suing this journalist. Those are all lies he's spreading." - "Why are you doing this?" - "Nobody writes something like that about the man I love and gets away with it. Nobody." And Nick couldn't put into words how much this meant to him.

*** *** ***

thank you so so much for this!! It was great fun and I hope you like the headcanons 💜

sleepover weekend!

If you like my headcanons, feel free to send me pairing requests (Tennis, MotoGP/2, F1) and I’ll try my best 😊🤗

edit: i won't write about kyrgios again. this was written and published before the domestic violence allegations against him became public and I believe Chiara.

[updatesnews]

Stefanos Tsitsipas casts doubt on Daniil Mevdevev with dig ahead of Rafael Nadal final | Tennis | Sport

Stefanos Tsitsipas casts doubt on Daniil Mevdevev with dig ahead of Rafael Nadal final | Tennis | Sport

Stefanos Tsitsipas fired a subtle dig towards rival Daniil Medvedev after losing their Australian Open semi-final match on Friday. The Russian will now gear up to face 20-time Grand Slam champion Rafael Nadal in Sunday’s final.  Medvedev and Tsitsipas began their rivalry after a bust-up at the 2018 Miami Open.  Both still relative unknowns and outside the world’s top 50, an x-rated spat after…

[esportenomundo]

Federação confirma Federer, Djokovic e Murray nos Jogos Olímpicos de Tóquio

A Federação Internacional de Tênis (ITF, na sigla em inglês) anunciou nesta quinta-feira, 1º, a lista oficial dos tenistas confirmados nos Jogos Olímpicos de Tóquio. Estão lá o suíço Roger Federer, que chegou a colocar em dúvida sua participação, o sérvio Novak Djokovic e o britânico Andy Murray, atual bicampeão olímpico. Em baixa no circuito, Federer tem selecionado cada vez mais os torneios que disputa. Em Roland Garros, abandonou na terceira rodada mesmo sem lesão, de olho na sequência da temporada. Ele é campeão olímpico nas duplas em Pequim-2008 e prata em simples em Londres-2012. No Rio-2016, não competiu. Assim, ainda sonha com o ouro em simples.

Djokovic também mira o título olímpico. O número 1 do mundo tem apenas um bronze, em simples, em Pequim-2008. Mas entrará como o grande favorito ao ouro desta vez. O sérvio vive grande fase e não terá pela frente rivais como o espanhol Rafael Nadal, maior baixa do torneio olímpico de tênis. Além disso, Andy Murray, seu algoz em Londres-2012, está em momento de reabilitação no circuito, longe da melhor forma. Mesmo assim, o escocês tentará defender o bicampeonato olímpico pela Grã-Bretanha.

Outros confirmados são os russos Daniil Medvedev, atual número dois do mundo, e Andrey Rublev (7º), o grego Stefanos Tsitsipas (4º colocado) e o alemão Alexander Zverev (6º). Já a chave de simples terá baixas de peso como o austríaco Dominic Thiem, 5º do ranking, e o argentino Juan Martín Del Potro, dono de uma prata no Rio-2016 e um bronze em Londres-2012. Entre os brasileiros, não houve surpresas. Foram oficializados Thiago Monteiro e João Menezes na chave de simples e Bruno Soares e Marcelo Melo nas duplas. Havia pequena expectativa de que Luisa Stefani poderia competir nas duplas femininas, puxando outra brasileira, em razão do seu bom ranking (23º), mas isso não foi confirmado – se entrasse, poderia até competir nas duplas mistas.

Leia também

STJD acata pedido do Flamengo de não liberar Pedro para a disputa dos Jogos Olímpicos

Fifa permite seleções olímpicas ampliarem lista de convocados de 18 para 22 atletas

CBF confirma Flamengo x Fluminense na Neo Química Arena pelo Brasileirão

*Com informações do Estadão Conteúdo

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[mousemannation]

abnamroopen | [x]

Boy, you don't want to miss out on what we have in store on Monday. Luckily there are still tickets available for former finalist Stefanos Tsitsipas during the day session and former number 1 and 2023 #abnamroopen champion Daniil Medvedev at night! Link to tickets in bio! 🎫🔗

#tennis #rotterdam #atptour #ontopoftennis #daniilmedvedev #stefanostsitsipas

[game-set-canet]

this blog is: 40% MotoGP/2/3 content, 40% Tennis content, 15% Biathlon, Alpine Skiing and Ski Jumping content and 5% of other things (like Lance Stroll and George Russell)

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i started writing tennis imagines (player x reader) some time ago:

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[esportenomundo]

Djokovic ‘surta’, tem ataque de fúria e arrebenta raquente no chão; assista

O tenista sérvio Novak Djokovic teve um ataque de fúria nesta terça-feira, 16, durante o confronto contra Alexander Zverev, pelas quartas de final do Australian Open. Irritado após não conseguir pontuar, o número 1 do mundo bateu a sua raquete no chão com força três vezes seguidas, arrebentando o seu instrumento de trabalho. O incindente aconteceu quando ele ganhava por 2 sets a 0 (7 a6 e 6 a 2), mas perdia o terceiro por (3 a 1). A partida ainda está em andamento.

O Australian Open reserva outros duelos importantes nas quartas de final, como Grigor Dimitrov x Aslan Karatsev, Andrey Rublev x Daniil Medvedev e Stefanos Tsitsipas x Rafael Nadal. A expectativa é que Nadal, atualmente número 2 do ranking ATP, chegue à final com Djokovic.

Guess who's in the lead.#AusOpen | @DjokerNole pic.twitter.com/H5684fGi8E

— Tennis Channel (@TennisChannel) February 16, 2021

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