Can Alex de Minaur slay his monsters

Alex de Minaur rarely loses to the plodders ranked below him. And rarely beats those above him. Is the United Cup a turning point?

Alex de Minaur hits a return against Novak Djokovic during the United Cup match in Perth Picture: AFP

Alex de Minaur returns to Ken Rosewall Arena. He likes the joint. It’s where his hot shoe-shuffling, livewire, tightrope, rope-a-dope, borderline obsessed, demon-possessed routine has included a victory over Rafael Nadal while declaring, “This is my (expletive deleted) court!” Only Tennis Australia, the owners of the stadium, and Rosewall, with his name on the front door and derierre plonked in a VIP seat, might have disagreed.

De Minaur will enter Saturday night’s United Cup semi-final as he will the Australian Open. With little more than sling and stone at his disposal. Sorry to revert to the tired old David and Goliath comparison, oh ye of little faith, but here’s the thing about cliches. Yes, they’re a dime a dozen. True, you’re inclined to avoid them like the plague. But most of ’em ring true.

It’s exactly what de Minaur is in the world of tennis. David. A feisty young fella trying to take down a brute or 10. The great riddle of de Minaur’s career is that he rarely loses to the duffers below him on the world rankings – but routinely gets monstered by those above him. They have greater weapons. Physically. Technically. They have bazookas in their racquet bags while he trots out with sling

and stone. Tennis is tougher than the Old Testament. The Davids get annihilated.

De Minaur’s majors record is like Ivan Lendl’s on-court demeanour. Grim. Just one quarter-final in 26 appearances. He gets overpowered and run out of town when the slams get down and dirty. The Australian Open is no different. Rod Laver Arena has never been his (expletive deleted) court. The top 10 do to him what Gorden Tallis did to Brett Hodgson in State of Origin. Rag-doll him, throw him over the sideline. Have things changed? We’ll see.

De Minaur is the opposite to his old mate Nick Kyrgios, who could beat Nadal, Novak Djokovic and Roger Federer, on any given day, at any given tournament, and who reached a Wimbledon final, because big matches and stadiums suited his muscular game and the showtime, Kath and Kim-style personality. Look at moi, look at moi. Kyrgios’ weakness was that he could just as easily lose to blokes outside the top 100. De Minaur is all-in, all-the-time, but he’s been outmuscled by the Goliaths. The top-tenners.

“It’s something I’ve heard my whole career,” he says. “I’m not big enough, I’m not strong enough. I’m a pusher, don’t have the firepower. Never going to be a top player. But, you know, I hear this week in, week out. The only thing that does is give me more fire and adds more gasoline to this engine that’s ready to do everything in its power to prove people wrong. Unfortunately, I’m never going to be the biggest or strongest guy, so I’ve got to adapt.”

Italy’s Jannick Sinner has the wood on de Minaur Picture: Getty Images

De Minaur isn’t small. We’re not analysing Gidget here. He’s 183cm. His 69kg frame just doesn’t get as much oomph on the ball. Nadal, for example, is only two centimetres taller, but 16kg heavier and technically better. De Minaur’s service motion has a glitch that drains power. He’s barely inside the top 50 for groundstroke speed. Vicious topspin is the weapon of choice on tour but it’s a luxury de Minaur doesn’t have. His forehands and backhands travel mostly at the trajectory of one of Luke Littler’s darts. Flat. Which is more hit-and-miss than most.

The evidence. In his eight-year professional career, the 24-year-old has a 15-39 win-loss record against top-10 players. It was 13-39 before he lit up the United Cup. He’s reached No.12 on the standings, a mighty effort, by the way, he’s no hacker, let’s make that clear, but his performances are identically poor, 15-39, against the current top 10, the gentlemen he’ll have to beat to win the Australian Open. Perhaps his stirring wins over Djokovic and Taylor Fritz in Perth are turning points of his career but as he admits himself, best-of-three United Cup matches are mickey-mouse compared to best-of-five at the Open.

To get up for the Norman Brookes Challenge Cup, de Minaur may have to beat big, bad Djokovic again. He’s 1-2. He may have to beat Carlos Alcaraz. He’s 0-2. He may have to beat Jannik Sinner. He’s 0-6. He may have to beat Stefanos Tsitsipas. He’s 0-10. His only positive ratios against the top 10 are against Russia’s world No. 5 Andrey Rublev (3-2) and Fritz (5-3), his bunny, the American world No.10 who yelped during de Minaur’s United Cup victory, “What am I meant to do?”

What’s de Minaur meant to do to win the Open? He doesn’t have the same swords and shields. Doesn’t have the monster first serve. Just a sneaky one. Doesn’t have the beastly whiplash topspin Superman forehand. His groundstrokes travel flat. He doesn’t have the physical presence nor power. By comparison, Djokovic stands six cubits and a span, regarding de Minaur with bemusement. What de Minaur does have, as Djokovic learned in Perth, is heart, soul, spirit, ambition, desire, endurance, enthusiasm, desperation, competitiveness, fire, fearlessness, fight and a willingness to do everything he can to win. Which makes him must-see TV at the United Cup and the Open. The epitome of someone punching above their weight. Worth every cent of admission.

He’s the quickest player on tour. He’d never lose a game of tip. He burns holes in his shoes like they’re tyres in a Bathurst 100. Yet he’s always chased his tail against the elite. He’s like Rohan Browning, the 100m sprinter with a PB of 10.01sec. How to break the barrier? De Minaur needs to shave .02 seconds off his time to get into another major quarter-final. Then perhaps his first semi-final. Then a final. Only then can he think about winning one. It’s possible. But it ain’t easy.

De Minaur will rip into Saturday’s United Cup semi-final, against Greece’s world No.6 Tsitsipas or Germany’s world No.7 Alex Zverev, against whom he’s 1-6. He represents Australia as if he’s wearing a baggy green cap. He couldn’t be more popular at the moment if he found Davey Warner’s cap on his way through Sydney Airport and he’s just about my favourite player to watch on tour. For the effort. For the riddle he’s trying to solve against the giants. For trying to put one between their eyes. We know what he’ll do on Saturday night and at the open. He’ll chase a tennis ball like he’s the family dog. He’ll attack. He’ll play an exhilarating brand of tennis. Some of his net-rushing will resemble a soldier in a wartime movie who sprints from a trench and to hell with the consequences. He’s admirable and athletic. And perhaps he’s evolving.

“The way he was able to dominate on serve was jaw-dropping,” ex-world No.1 and Open champion Jim Courier said while commentating on de Minaur’s triumph over Djokovic. “The rest of his game was behind it. All the versatility, variety, all the things we have come to expect. The defence, big foot speed. Everything else. His ability to get to the net. To keep Novak off balance with drop shots and slices and topspin lobs and looping shots, he just didn’t give Novak any rhythm and Novak responded with a lot of unforced errors. He was frustrated. There’s no doubt about it. This was a well-earned, big-time victory for the Demon.”

What de Minaur cannot afford to do is stand back and trade baseline blows with the Goliaths. He’ll be devoured and he knows it.

Increasingly, he’s doing a bit of an Ash Barty, mixing it up, slicing and dicing one-handed backhands that skim and tail away like bluebottle stingers. He annoyed Djokovic with sliders and then moon balls – slow, floating shots – between moments of flat-out aggression.

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” he’s wise enough to say. “I’m happy I can say I got a win over the GOAT. I’m happy with where my level is, where I am mentally, and the mindset I’ve got going in. The level is there but five sets is a different beast.”

Inside arenas named after Rosewall and Laver this month, the riddle boils down to this. How does de Minaur win fights without the same weapons? His only hope is to pester the Goliaths, get in their faces, badger them, get loud, play proud, keep slicing, keep dicing, get cheeky, get sneaky, keep net-rushing, keep counterpunching while throwing a few haymakers of his own. Stand up to them. Go after them. He has to go big or he’ll keep going home in the fourth round. Perhaps there’s hope. Perhaps sling and stone will be enough. In sport and life, perhaps great things come to those who hustle.