Barty. Kyrgios. Williams. Nadal. Djokovic. Chalk-and-cheese Australians. An American carrying the aura of a Hollywood actress. A warrior Spaniard. A Serb who’s become the greatest villain since Heath Ledger in The Joker. Those five are the tournament. They’re the headline acts, they’re on the billboards, they’ll get the showtime slots. You can take or leave the rest. Most of us do.
The journeymen and women get their cut-price knickers in a knot when they’re called journeymen and women. Australia’s eminent and admirable journeyman John Millman disliked it this week when TV commentators called Serbia’s world No 31 Filip Krajinovic a journeyman during the A Day At The Drive exhibition in Adelaide. Millman tweeted: “OK … enough is enough. First match here in Oz for the Australian summer and current world No 31, who has been as high as 26, Filip Krajinovic just got called a journeyman. Be better.”
I was stunned by that. Krajinovic is viewed by the masses as the journeyman’s journeyman. The term itself started as a description of tradesmen who had completed an apprenticeship but were not yet master craftsmen. In sport, it means someone is good but not great. That’s Krajinovic through and through. And Millman, the world No 38. Good, and occasionally excellent, but not great.
Millman was backed up by Australia’s James Duckworth, the world No 105, a journeyman’s journeyman’s journeyman who wrote: “I’m sorry but if you’re 31 you’re a bloody good player.” Millman replied: “Correct. In one of the most played sports in the world, a guy 31 in the world is very good.” Kyrgios read all this and wrote: “Hahaha u funny.”
There’s nothing but respect for Millman here. But he’s a journeyman. It could be taken as a compliment. He’s terrific value, as we’ve seen in his win over Roger Federer at the US Open and his marathon five-setter against the master craftsman at Melbourne Park last year. But the Millmans and Krajinovics and Duckworths need one of the Big Five at the other end of the court to whip up the interest. They need one of the Big Five to make it onto Rod Laver Arena in the first place. Without them, they’re on the back courts. Out of sight and largely out of mind.
The journeymen and women should count their blessings to be profiting from the presence of the superstars. There’s a reason why the Open carries a whopping $80m in prize money. A reason why the singles winners get a staggering $2.75m each. A reason why even the invisible first-round losers receive $100,000 each. A reason why the doubles winners — there’s a couple of journeymen for you! — pocket $600,000. And a reason why the mixed doubles get $150,000. It’s because the public and sponsor interest in the Big Five have enabled monster broadcast and endorsement deals that allow Tennis Australia to pay such hefty sums.
Barty. Kyrgios. Williams. Nadal. Djokovic. Every TV promotion will revolve around them. Every day’s schedule will be dominated by them. They are the lifeblood of the Open. The tournament needs them more than the other 251 players combined. There’s plenty of stories inside the stories and big-hearted players deserving of respect at the open. The Millmans and Jordan Thompsons and Krajinovics and maybe even the Duckworths will get their moments in the Melbourne sun. But to the masses they’re extras. They’re props in the main play unless they prove themselves otherwise by reaching the rounds and finals matches that matter.
Krajinovic has won $5m in career prizemoney. He’s a 28-year-old who churns out a pretty decent living without having won a title in 13 years on the tour. Not one trophy. If that isn’t the very definition of a journeyman, good but not great, I don’t know what is. He’s a journeyman through and through. A king of the journeymen. A journeyman without compare. For it to be suggested otherwise … hahaha u funny.
The journeymen and women think they should get a larger share of the prizemoney. I disagree. When you compare the career earnings of Krajinovic and Millman ($5.03m) to the $189m of Novak Djokovic, they might very well be viewed as paupers. But here’s the thing for the rank-and-file. At the beginning of every tournament, including this Australian Open, they’re eligible for the exact same pay day as the superstars. Djokovic doesn’t get $2.75m with his Norman Brookes trophy because he’s Djokovic. He gets it because he’s the winner.
If the journeymen and women want to make more money and rid themselves of the tag they dislike so much, there’s an easy way for them to do it. Win more. Be better.
The Australian Open has 256 singles players. Two-hundred-and-fifty-one of them are dispensable. The tournament revolves around five players — Ash Barty, Nick Kyrgios, Serena Williams, Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic — for broadcaster and public interest in a sporting nation that respects yet mostly turns a blind eye to the journeymen and women.