Russia-born Kazakh Elena Rybakina slams her way to the US Open title.

Image: AFP

My friends and relatives would tell me how lucky I was to work with professional tennis players. People, especially sports journalists, tended to lean over and whisper to me that my job was a dream. I replied, more nightmare than dream.

The Porsche Tennis Grand Prix, in Filderstadt, near Stuttgart in Germany, is German tennis’ moment to shine and 15 years ago I was there looking after one of our company’s clients who’d made the final. Sitting in the player’s lounge, having a snack, Danish star Carolina Wozniacki came over for a chat. She was “carbing up” for a semi-final with Poland’s Radwanska, and remarked how one Russian player who’d lost earlier in the tournament was still hanging around and “carbing up.”

“She can beat anyone in the world, she just needs to control her diet,” the great Dane said with a very serious face. I glanced over at the young woman in question and wondered just how many pieces of rich, tasty chocolate cake she needed on her plate. I knew, however, that she was just one of many who progressed through a chaotic tennis system that wasn’t fit for purpose.

Burning out talent

The heavy focus on training and playing has cost more top Russian talent successful careers than lack of funds to play tournaments or anything else. And after 1991, Russian tennis was over the top in this regard. Too many youngsters suffered physical and mental burn-out.

“It’s important to remember they are kids,” Russia-born, Serbia Fed Cup team player Vesna Dolonc told us on Capital Sports last year. “Burn-out is very real and parents, too, need to take care of it.”

Vesna, a talented Russian junior who chose to play for her father’s country, made the main draw in all Grand Slams and after winning eight professional titles retired in 2017 to focus on coaching. Her view is that there are hugely talented kids and coaches in Russia, though there needs to be focus on the “whole person”.

It’s something that Melik, father of retired Russian tennis ace Margarita Betova (née Gasparyan) pointed out when I worked with his daughter for a short stint in 2011-12.

“They (national team coaches) made her play when she had one leg, when she was barely able to stand and then complain (when) she loses,” he told me at our first meeting.

Later, as we sat watching her at the 2012 Kremlin Cup, he blamed the battle for finance as the main cause.

“The (Russian tennis) federation has not enough money to give all young (players), so everyone kills themselves to win and play, even when they’re hurt.”

That was then, when so many young Russian women who were superb on the junior circuit just fell away before making the top-100. Some players found alternative paths to success and support.

Daria Kasatkina can't hide her smile after beating Simona Halep. The Russia-born Kasatkina now plays for Australia.

Image: Zhang Duan / Xinhua

Spreading

Since and including 2011 there have been no fewer than six Russian players in the world’s top-100 at the end of each year. It has steadily increased since 2022, with 13 in the leader list from 2023-25. Ten Russian women are currently in the top-100. And there is an asterisk to put in there.

That does not include Russia-born players who are serving other countries, like Elena Rybakina. The Muscovite was the latest talent to fly the Kazakhstan flag with full funding, coaching, and support team guaranteed. Ditto World number 50, Anastasia Potapova, who switched to Austria, and it seems an annual occurrence when another nation, like Australia, Uzbekistan, or France snap up a graduate of the Russian tennis system.

“There are so many players,” explained Ksenia Pervak, the former world number 37 who switched to Kazakhstan for three years, “so many really good players that if you’re not, like, top, maybe, fifty early, you don’t get the funding.”

A super talented junior who won the Australian Open title in 2009, she succumbed to injuries and wrapped up her career fully in 2017 at the age of just 26.

Given that more Russian female players are ranked in the top-100, including with other countries, does that mean the system is working?

Changing the system

“There were a lot of us,” Ksenia told me on Capital Sports in 2019, “a whole generation, like, tens of us. But you know, if I was playing as a junior now, it’s totally different.”

Better? I asked.

“So much,” she responded with gusto, going on to explain how the Russian Tennis Federation (RTF) had implemented best practice for coaches, players, and even parents.

One of that “generation”, Ekaterina Bychkova, explained this to a genuinely enraptured audience of students at Russia State Social University in 2020.

“Parents can be a bit crazy, they live out a life through their kids,” she said, offering a few funny stories from personal experience both as a player and coach.

“(The tennis system in Russia) is unrecognisable from when I was a kid. Now, they tell you about nutrition, proper fitness, even sleep. It’s not perfect, but I would have no problem in putting my kid, when I have one, into it,” Ekaterina said, as if predicting the future.

Now a mother, she has enrolled her young son, Mark, into tennis lessons and says he’s loving it.

Are we there yet?

The RTF seems to have heard what the first generations of post-Soviet players endured. They have put in place standards that will evolve and improve with time. The issue with parents is something that was always a great bugbear of mine.

Liudmila Mikoyan, a leading Russian coach who was a successful tour pro and played for her father’s homeland of Armenia, used to advise me on the “crazy mothers”. The ones who have the same clothes and hairstyles as their daughters and perch themselves perilously close to the action.

One of these “crazy mothers” was the reason for the federation to begin considering guidelines. I was there at the Moscow venue, for an International Tennis Federation (ITF) $25k (R412,000) pro tournament when Russian officials genuinely were lost for words and action.

In the second set of a doubles match, the woman’s child kept messing up her forehand volleys close to the net. Exasperated, the mother went down from the balcony overhanging the court during a break between games. She emerged out onto the playing surface, dragging her daughter up from her seat with her, and proceeded to show her how to play the shot correctly.

The umpire called for help, tournament officials arrived, but it was already too late. German player Annika Beck and her mother were standing next to me, watching it unfold. Our chat about my former life in Germany and their hometown of Giessen abruptly halted as the Russian crazy mother was led from the court by the tournament referee, and her teenage daughter barely held back tears.

There are, I’ve been told by Vesna and Ekaterina, occasional outbreaks from parents at training or tournaments, but greatly reduced thanks to RTF guidelines. Alongside better coach education, information for players and parents, and limits on tournament participation to prevent ‘overplaying’, Russia is beginning to blossom into a much better place for kids to play tennis and once the ITF removes the stigma of being born in Russia, we’ll see a lot more home-produced talent winning major tournaments under a Russian flag.