Forget, for a moment, the unseemly manner in which Andrey Rublev advanced towards a line judge, screaming in frustration, deep in the third set of his Dubai semi-final against Alexander Bublik. Resist the temptation to contextualise it as merely the latest example of volatile behaviour by the fiery 26-year-old. Consider, instead, the facts that led to Rublev being defaulted for allegedly swearing at the official in Russian – facts that have now resulted in his initial punishment being reduced on appeal.
With Bublik serving at 5-5, 40-30 in the decider, Rublev came out on the wrong end of a brief baseline exchange, sending a forehand long. Convinced that the line judge monitoring the baseline had missed a call earlier in the rally, Rublev immediately made a beeline for the official, fingers pursed and hands waving, to demand an explanation for the perceived error. As the crowd whistled and jeered, Rublev stooped to eyeball the seated line judge, coming within less than a racket’s length of his face as he bellowed his displeasure.
At the ensuing changeover, a Russian-speaking linesman approached the chair umpire, Miriam Bley, alleging that Rublev had called his colleague a “fucking moron” in his native tongue. Rublev denied that he had said any such thing, insisting that he had spoken only in English and did not swear, but the tournament supervisor, Roland Herfel, was unmoved.
“He’s a Russian-speaking guy, there’s nothing you can do about it,” said Herfel. “That’s you defaulted.”
It was a curious, almost blithe choice of words by Herfel, but despite Rublev’s continued protestations – and Bublik’s laudable insistence that he was happy to play on – Bley subsequently announced a code violation for unsportsmanlike conduct and default. That verdict was reportedly contradicted by the referees’ office, which attributed the decision to verbal abuse rather than unsportsmanlike conduct.
Either way, Rublev was set to forfeit the $158,000 (£124,000) prize money and 200 ranking points he earned for reaching the semi-finals, dropping one place to sixth in the rankings as a result, until the punishment was deemed excessive on appeal.
“The appeal process took into consideration testimonies from the player, officials, as well as a review of all available video and audio materials,” read an ATP statement published on Monday.
“The appeals committee concluded that, beyond forfeiting the match, customary penalties associated with a default – namely loss of rankings points and prize money for the entire tournament – would be disproportionate in this case.”
It is the right outcome, given the available evidence, but how far justice has been served is another matter. While the verdict mitigates Rublev’s losses and offers an endorsement of his integrity – if not his behaviour, which we’ll come to shortly – it cannot rekindle his bid to reach a third straight final at an event where he was crowned champion two years ago.
We shall never know what might have happened had the match been allowed to continue, although the first two sets, both of which went to tiebreaks, suggest it would have been nip and tuck. Instead, Bublik was granted a free pass to the title round, where he was beaten by Ugo Humbert of France, while the crowd and the global TV audience were denied a potentially exciting denouement. A fine and a code violation for unsportsmanlike behaviour would surely have sufficed.
Having disqualified Rublev, however, the ATP had little choice but to reinstate his points and prize money, given the available evidence. Despite the presence of TV cameras and microphones on court, and smartphones in the crowd, there was no conclusive proof that Rublev either spoke in Russian or used foul language. In the footage below, taken from courtside, the player appears to yell in English: “It’s out like this. How? How?” If you listen very closely, it is possible that his tirade began with the word “debil”, Russian for “moron”; possible, but by no means clear.
What is clear, however, is that there was no evidence of swearing. That is significant because, during his discussion with Rublev, Herfel specifically identified the alleged use of profanity as the chief issue. “He said that you swore in Russian,” said Herfel, gesturing to Rublev’s accuser. “If that’s what you said,” he continued – at which point Rublev interjected, insisting he had said no such thing. It was nonetheless clear where Herfel was going.
The ATP rulebook states: “Verbal abuse is defined as any statement about an official, opponent, sponsor, spectator or any other person that implies dishonesty or is derogatory, insulting or otherwise abusive.” The Russian expletive “chertovski” would certainly meet that description, yet not one of its three syllables can be heard on any available audio, as is evident from the conclusion of the appeals committee.
It was suggested in the aftermath of the incident that the side angle shown above failed to capture the beginning of Rublev’s rant, but no alternative footage was produced to support that claim. Many who shot from the lip on social media have been left with egg on their faces.
Predictably, the episode sparked calls for a video review system like the one used in football. Yet such replays have not entirely solved football’s problems and, given that it took almost three days to conclude that there was no film or audio available to confirm the claims made against Rublev, you have to wonder if tennis would be any different. Electronic line calling, on the other hand, which will be introduced across the board at ATP Tour events from next year, would obviously have helped.
What was really wanting, however, was not an immediate review of television footage that proved to be inconclusive in any case, but a clear and logical approach to the situation. At one point in his exchange with Rublev, Herfel remarked: “We will have to see it on video.” No sooner had Rublev concurred – “Can you please first check the cameras, before you trust?” he asked – than the official appeared to alter his position. “No, I have to trust the guy, he’s a Russian-speaking guy,” Herfel replied. The whole thing was a mess and, in the end, all we were left with was one man’s word against another’s.
“How can [the service line judge] say whatever he wants?” Rublev demanded to know. It seemed a reasonable question. The distance from the baseline, where Rublev delivered his broadside, to the service line, where the official who claimed to have overheard everything was positioned, is roughly 17 feet. Given the noise in the stadium – applause for Bublik initially, rapidly giving way to jeers for Rublev – it is legitimate to wonder just how certain the service line judge could have been about what he did or didn’t hear.
“The supervisor has to have a 100% confirmation in front of his eyes before making such a decision,” wrote Rublev’s compatriot Daria Kasatkina on social media. “Once, I paid a huge fine for something I didn’t say, just because the linesman thought she understood what I’m saying.”
None of this is to exonerate Rublev, whose behaviour was disgraceful. A popular but highly-strung character, the Russian has often struggled to keep a lid on his emotions, although in the past he has tended to direct his displeasure at himself. An alarming habit of battering his legs with his racket has frequently left him bloodied and bruised but, in recent months, Rublev’s anger has started to range further afield.
In fact, his behaviour in Dubai bore uncomfortable echoes of an incident during the final of last year’s Shanghai Masters, where he rounded on a courtside photographer in near-identical fashion after being distracted at a key moment late in the third set. That too earned Rublev a code violation for unsportsmanlike conduct, with the chair umpire, Renaud Lichtenstein, obliged to explain that his attitude was “very aggressive”.
Another ugly moment occurred during December’s Ultimate Tennis Showdown in London, where Rublev mounted the umpire’s chair and thrust three fingers into the official’s face, indicating that he wished to exercise a bonus-point option. A recurring pattern is emerging. Rublev’s battle to curb his emotional excesses is humanising and relatable, but lately his antics have become alienating. It is time he got his house in order.
Mistakes happen in tennis. Rublev getting in a line judge’s face was one; the decision of tournament officials to play judge, jury and executioner in a case more nuanced than the ensuing social media frenzy suggested was another. The ATP deserves credit for conducting a proper evaluation of the situation, but a $36,400 fine for verbal abuse stands and, of course, Rublev has lost the opportunity to compete for a place in an ATP 500 final.
“I want to thank the appeal committee for approving my appeal and changing course on the ATP’s initial decision of disqualifying me from the Dubai semi-final and taking away the rankings points and prize money I earned last week,” Rublev said in a statement.
“I hope that in the future, the ATP will take a closer look at this rule and make changes to it, so that an official can’t force a match outcome without having clear evidence.”