As Dominic Thiem effortlessly dismantled Daniil Medvedev to reach the US Open final in September 2020, his performance was another indication he might just be one of the heirs to the throne in men’s tennis. Thiem had certainly paid his dues. He had already reached three major finals, losing to Rafael Nadal twice at the French Open and Novak Djokovic in Australia. Despite the new doubts that followed those defeats, he came back stronger every time. Finally, at his fourth attempt, the odds were in his favour.
“The emotions were great,” says Thiem, smiling, as he recounts the aftermath of that semi-final from a cosy room inside Vienna’s Wiener Stadthalle this week. “Great dinner, great treatment. Everything was fine. But then, already going to sleep after the semis, I felt like: ‘OK, I’m really tight. Shit. I cannot think about anything else other than the final, which is not good.’”
Instead of a straightforward victory for Thiem against Alexander Zverev, chaos reigned. In the blink of an eye, a painfully tight Thiem found himself trailing by two sets. Then, after recovering to force a final set, he stood two points from defeat on Zverev’s serve. By the time Thiem had dragged himself into a final set tie-break, the drama peaking after four hours inside an empty, eerily quiet Arthur Ashe Stadium due to strict Covid protocols, he could barely even walk. Somehow, he held on to win.
Not only was this a career-defining moment for Thiem, it was a significant occasion in the recent history of men’s tennis. After so many years of Djokovic, Nadal and Roger Federer wiping out all young challengers, Thiem represented the first crack in their collective armour, the first male player born in the 1990s or beyond to win a grand slam title. Four years on, Medvedev remains the only other 90s-born champion. It seemed as if Thiem had only just reached his peak and would continue to challenge for major titles.
The greatest moment of Thiem’s career, instead, turned out to be the beginning of the end. On Tuesday, Thiem retired from professional tennis at 31 years old after losing 7-6 (6), 6-2 to Luciano Darderi on home soil in the first round of the Vienna Open.
It has been a decade since Thiem emerged on the ATP tour, a talented player who was slightly slower to catch fire than some of his peers. He boasted such a brutally physical playing style from the beginning, launching himself into every single stroke and veering between generating wicked, heavy topspin with his forehand and his unforgettable single-handed backhand; battering opponents with his explosive shotmaking from all parts of the court.
His approach to the sport, however, was even more striking. Alongside his initial coach, Günter Bresnik, Thiem quickly became known for his tireless work ethic. His schedule was relentless. He played week after week, rarely ever coming up for air. Between matches, his training regime was similarly unforgiving.
“That’s the way I grew up, this training style with a lot of intensity and really giving it 100% every single shot,” he says. “That was physically very demanding. And also, from a very early age, I got used to high-volume practice, practising like three four hours straight, or three hours twice [a day].”
For Thiem, that work ethic was a non-negotiable part of his career, one of the pillars of his success. But it is also ultimately what caused his demise. Having spent his entire career working towards winning a grand slam title, upon scaling that mountain, his efforts quickly caught up with him. By the beginning of 2021, Thiem was physically and mentally burned out. Then, just as he had rediscovered his motivation and drive, his body crumbled. At the Mallorca Open in June 2021, nine months after New York, Thiem badly injured his wrist while reaching for a forehand.
“The last couple of years, it was so difficult to keep up with that [high] volume,” he says. “The wrist was not able to hold up with that volume of practice, and also the other parts of the body got older and older.”
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Over the past few years, as Thiem toiled to rediscover his form of old, he largely spent his time chasing shadows. As he came to terms with his injury that few players recover from, Thiem had to accept his situation.
“I think the way we do the sport, it’s not healthy, and at one point, one part or more parts of the body break down,” says Thiem. “You can see it with almost every player, there is no player who comes injury free through their career. That’s just the way of professional sport. And in my case, it was the wrist. It’s not really surprising, because I was obviously using the wrist so much, especially at the forehand, and it was one of my most important parts the last moments before hitting the ball to accelerate a bit more with the wrist. I was doing this probably millions of times, and at one point, that’s also what the doctor said. The wrist got just a little bit too weak and then it broke. After that I never had the same feeling.”
In a season filled with high-profile retirements, Thiem’s ending seems like one of the saddest departures, but the perspective he has drawn on in the final stretch of his career has been admirable. In stark contrast to the understandable anguish of Andy Murray this year and Nadal deliberating over his future for months before deciding to retire, Thiem accepted his injury and also how his decisions contributed to it.
“In the end, everything kind of makes sense,” he says. “I’m satisfied with how everything went.”
Since he announced his retirement in February, Thiem has received farewells at tournaments around the world this year, including an evening dedicated to his career in Vienna. There have been no tears and at no point has he betrayed any doubt about his decision. While the last few years have been painful as he tried everything in his power to recover, this year he resolved to simply enjoy his final days as a tennis player.
