I’ll be honest: from the moment the Aryna Sabalenka vs Nick Kyrgios “Battle of the Sexes” exhibition was announced, it seemed like a terrible idea. Not because Sabalenka isn’t a phenomenal athlete—she absolutely is—or because Kyrgios isn’t talented in his own chaotic way. It was the premise itself that made me uneasy. We’ve been here before, and it never ends the way organisers claim it will.

These matches are always sold as fun, light-hearted entertainment. A bit of theatre. A chance to “showcase” the women’s game. But beneath the marketing gloss sits a very old, very tired narrative: the idea that women’s tennis needs to be validated—or invalidated—by comparison to men’s tennis. And that’s exactly why I thought this was a bad idea from the start.

And then there’s Kyrgios himself. People forget that he has beaten most of the very best players in the world—Djokovic, Nadal, Federer, Murray—often because his variety and unpredictability trouble even the most complete, disciplined competitors. His game is built on improvisation, disguise, and explosive pace. That kind of chaos gives elite men problems, so of course it was always going to trouble Sabalenka. That’s not a criticism of her; it’s simply acknowledging the reality of facing someone whose strengths are specifically the kind that disrupt rhythm and punish predictability.

And while both players were limited to one serve, that rule didn’t level the playing field. If anything, it highlighted the natural differences that already exist. Kyrgios is significantly taller, and the men’s game is built around heavier spin, higher bounce, and far more pace on the serve. Even with one serve, his height and mechanics gave him a built‑in advantage Sabalenka simply couldn’t replicate.

But beyond the tennis itself, the event just wasn’t good. The TV pictures kept breaking up, which made it hard to follow the match at all. There was barely any audible banter or interaction between the players—something these exhibitions usually rely on to create atmosphere. Even the crowd looked a bit bored, sitting politely rather than buzzing with energy. It didn’t feel like an entertaining spectacle; it felt flat, awkward, and strangely lifeless. For something marketed as a fun showdown, it delivered very little fun.

So when Kyrgios won, the result didn’t surprise me. What did disappoint me was the immediate reaction online. Within minutes, the usual chorus appeared: people who don’t watch women’s tennis, don’t understand it, and don’t value it, suddenly feeling vindicated. As if one exhibition match—played under conditions that naturally favour a male player, and wrapped in a production that didn’t even work properly—somehow proves anything about the quality, depth, or legitimacy of the women’s tour.

It’s frustrating because women’s tennis doesn’t need defending. It stands on its own. It always has. The WTA has produced some of the most compelling athletes, rivalries, and storylines in the sport. Sabalenka herself is a powerhouse—mentally, physically, competitively. But none of that matters to the people who only show up when there’s an opportunity to diminish the women’s game.

And that’s why this match felt like a trap from the beginning for the narrative around women’s tennis. These spectacles don’t challenge sexist assumptions; they feed them. They give critics a shortcut, a single data point they can wave around instead of engaging with the sport as it actually exists.

I say all this as someone who genuinely likes Sabalenka and loves watching her play. But even as a fan, I can admit she was naïve to think this match was ever going to be a good idea. The narrative was stacked against her before a ball was hit, and the people most eager to weaponise the result against women’s tennis were always going to show up. She walked into something that was never designed to showcase her strengths, and I hope next time she—and the sport—choose a platform that celebrates women’s tennis rather than setting it up to be judged against something it was never meant to mirror.

And the idea that this match would somehow bring new fans to the sport? In reality, it only served up the same tired storyline: an out‑of‑shape Kyrgios beating the women’s world number one with relative ease. That’s not a gateway for new viewers; it’s ammunition for the same old detractors. Sabalenka already has plenty of critics—her loud grunts, the Roland Garros moment where she appeared to diminish Coco Gauff’s win (and heaven help anyone who criticises Coco on tennis Twitter), and her unapologetic, brash confidence all divide opinion. This circus certainly won’t have softened any of those edges. When even her own fans were shaking their heads at the whole concept, that should have been a warning sign. It was a bad idea, Aryna!

If organisers genuinely want to elevate women’s tennis, there are far better ways to do it. Invest in promotion. Improve scheduling. Give women’s matches prime slots. Highlight the athleticism, the personalities, the rivalries. Celebrate the sport on its own terms—not in comparison to men, and definitely not in a format designed to spark debate rather than appreciation. Women’s tennis deserves better than being used as a prop in someone else’s argument.