Good to his mum. Less friendly towards Ken Rosewall. Who’s the real Nick Kyrgios?

Is Nick Kyrgios the guy we see showing tenderness to his mother, or the punk brushing a handshake from an Australian tennis icon? We have no idea who he really is.

Novak Djokovic and Nick Kyrgios during their doubles match at the Brisbane International. Picture: AFP

A young and fresh Nick Kyrgios was at a suburban court in Sydney to plug his sponsor and do interviews and give a brooding pout for photographic portraits and have a hit and giggle while his mum sat quietly and serenely on a wooden bench to the side of the court.

She appeared proud as punch of her boy. He treated her with absolute kindness and love and tenderness and care. Get you a cup of tea, Mum? Come and sit over here, Mum. There’s more shade for you here. And I thought … what a lovely fella.

An older and crankier Kyrgios was on the rooftop of a flash Sydney hotel to plug the now extinct ATP Cup, I think it was, and brush any attempt at interviews and turn his back on photographer’s lenses while Ken Rosewall sat quietly to the side.

Rosewall was there because the main matches in Sydney would be held in the arena named in his honour. He approached Kyrgios with an outstretched hand and welcoming smile. Kyrgios brushed him. I’ve always wondered why.

Perhaps Kyrgios didn’t recognise a grand old figure of the game? Perhaps he didn’t properly see Rosewall? Regardless, it was an incredibly awkward and seemed unnecessarily rude. Rosewall was left hanging and I thought of Kyrgios … what a wally.

Now an even older Kyrgios is back on the tour. Who does he want to be? Really, who is he? I’m none the wiser about which of the aforementioned versions of Kyrgios is the real Kyrgios. Perhaps deep-down he’s the loveliest man alive, forever good to his mum, fetching her cups of tea and keeping an eye out for the shade. Perhaps deep-down he’s forever sticking his nose in the air at the elderly without realising the impact, or perhaps not caring. Perhaps he’s both, because none of us are any one thing, or perhaps he’s neither, because maybe he’s matured and evolved into a combination of these baffling polar opposites previously witnessed.

Thrice Kyrgios appeared at the Brisbane International. Thrice we were reminded of what a tremendous tennis player he actually is. A natural beyond compare. Serves like there’s a constant gentle breeze at his back. Hits forehands powerful enough to bludgeon and kill a snake. His backhand is a cheeky little bugger who seems intent on promoting the benefits of minimalism.

Who needs a backswing and follow through? Just give that win a bunt, a poke or a prod. His delightfully soft hands have a potter’s touch. He’s keener on a ‘tweener than he ought to be but all circus acts must have their moments of complete ridiculousness.

Of course, there’s no way known to mankind that Kyrgios will win the Australian Open. His bionic wrist is still busted. “Felt like I’d been hit by a bus,” he said in Brisbane of his aching body, primarily the heavily strapped right wrist, after losing in three gallant sets to giant Frenchman Giovanni Mpetshi Perricard.

“It’s very sore at the moment. I’m super-excited for the Australian Open. If I’m able to play, I’m able to play, but the reality has kind of set into me with my wrist.”

Kyrgios played superbly in the last-gasp doubles defeat to Nikola Mektic and Michael Venus that proved yet again, to much mirth and merriment, that arguably the greatest singles player in history is arguably the all-time worst at doubles. Everyone knows the golden rule of doubles. Whether you’re muddling around at your local club, or having a crack at the Futures Tour, or trying to win the Brisbane International, the first imperative is to find a good partner. In this, strange as it sounds, Kyrgios failed.

Kyrgios and Novak Djokovic were entertaining and occasionally brilliant. Yet Djokovic is eternally lost on a doubles court. He wants to dominate, feeling obliged to, for a 24-time major singles champion should be able to wipe Pat Rafter Arena with these blokes, but he just hasn’t played enough doubles to get the hang of it. Kyrgios was the best player on the court, with Djokovic a distant fourth.

The reason Kyrgios lost his doubles in Brisbane? Djokovic, but bravo for the entertainment.

Unseeded, Kyrgios could pop up anywhere in the draw at the Australian Open. The ultimate grudge match will obviously be against world No. 1 Jannik Sinner, who must be quietly seething and bemused by Kyrgios’s constant criticism of his drugs case, while Kyrgios is not-so-quietly seething and bemused by the fact Sinner, who tested positive to a banned substance, is still on the tour. You could sell enough tickets to fill the MCG if fire and ice go head-to-head, toe-to-toe, tweet-to-tweet and blow-for-blow. And yet I’d rather witness an all-Australian occasion: Kyrgios versus Alex de Minaur. Be still my tennis-loving heart.

I’m not entirely sure they get along. I have no proof of a stoush, this is merely the impression I get. A niggling little suspicion of a little niggle. De Minaur is about to be the world No. 8 while Kyrgios’ current ranking is listed as zero. He doesn’t even have one after his two-year absence. I’m quite certain there are few players Kyrgios would rather take down. To prove he’s Australia’s premier player. To prove he’s the more popular player. When they’re both fit and firing, you’d have Kyrgios as favourite, and he flogged Demon 6-2, 6-3 at the Canada Masters in 2022, but de Minaur has started the season in spectacularly good fashion. We can assume he’d be wonderful to both his mum and Ken Rosewall.

De Minaur’s two singles wins at the United Cup were tremendous. He’s muscled up. Still in no danger of developing Charles Atlas’s physique but he knocked down a few serves of 220km/h and leapt into his groundstrokes with more oomph than ever. His next match will be an exhibition against Wimbledon champion Carlos Alcaraz on Rod Laver Arena on Wednesday evening. I bet he wins it. De Minaur starts every summer with all guns ­blazing but Alcaraz is easing into his duties.

De Minaur lost to Andrey Rublev in the fourth round last year at Melbourne Park. To describe the Russian as volatile is to call John McEnroe mildly moody in matches. Rublev won their five-setter in the manner of Gene Simmons playing electric guitar for Kiss, tongue out and eyes ablaze. Nearly a year later, Rublev has done de Minaur a favour by losing his opening match at the Hong Kong Open. That result will send Rublev down to the world No.9 slot on Monday and de Minaur up to No.8, meaning he cannot play one of the heavyweights until the quarter-finals. Cue the theme music to Jaws, though. Kyrgios is lurking in the draw.