Travel Blog

Naomi Osaka has announced that she will not answer questions from the media at this year’s French Open, citing the toll such exchanges have on her mental health.

It’s true that players have broken down in tears at post-match press conferences, and sometimes walked out, the emotional strain of having to explain a crushing defeat to a roomful of reporters proving too much for them.

But at the few press conferences I attended – one year at the U.S. Open, one year at the Miami Open – I found tennis writers to be both pedantic – interested in the technical aspects – and sensitive, posing difficult questions with a great deal of tact and humanity. These two qualities contrive to make most press conference transcripts perfect late-night reading for insomniacs. (At least since the retirement of Andy Roddick, who used sarcasm the way John Isner uses his serve.) Interviews are by nature highly artificial methods of communication, a game in which the interviewee plays with cards very close to the chest; multiply the one-on-one interview by 20 or 30 and the chance for startling revelations or brute honesty dwindles to near nil. Attending a press conference with Roger Federer at the Miami Open, I got so bored with the proceedings that I asked him to explain his decision to move from a collared to a collarless shirt. Rather than dismiss my question as irrelevant, and me as an imposter (which I clearly was), he graciously gave me a thoughtful response.

For me, the most entertaining moment at a press conference was provided by Novak Djokovic when he affectionately answered an Italian reporter's question using a spot-on Italian accent. It came after a Djokovic victory, of course, leading one to wonder if perhaps only the winners should be subjected to press conferences. The problem with this solution is that, often, the more interesting interviews are with the losers. Triumph produces mindless euphoria while defeat is the mother of introspection.