Sport Court: Is Fabio Fognini right: Are apologies necessary after letcord winners?

WATCH: Fognini has rankled opponents in the past, but felt especially aggrieved himself against Brooksby in Auckland.

Tennis players are typically non-confrontational: its roots as a genteel sport are still seen from the subdued applause of the spectators to hearty handshakes to handing out ice bags to injured rivals. But the practice of apologizing after a letcord winner—the sport’s rare twist of fate that effectively ends a point before an opponent can reply—has become more controversial in recent years, particularly when one player attempts to buck tradition.

Jenson Brooksby made no bones about his refusal to apologize for such luck against Fabio Fognini at the ASB Classic, even as his Italian opposition fumed over the supposed lack of decorum, but should others follow Brooksby’s lead? Let’s litigate the issue in Sport Court.

David Kane: First of all, the idea that Fabio Fognini is the one admonishing a rival for perceived impoliteness already puts this case on shaky ground. But as someone who often puts his hands up when navigating New York City sidewalks, I can’t say it hurts to make some acknowledgement when your opponent is already smarting over a lucky break.

We've seen some wildly inopportune letcords in the last few years alone—Jelena Ostapenko's clipped winner on break point all but assured her 2017 Roland Garros victory over a spiraling Simona Halep—and the knee-jerk "racquet up" apology has become equally omnipresent. So often does one follow the other that the absence of an apology usually implies something else is at play between the two combatants: Brooksby broadly opined about luck, but it's not hard to imagine Fognini's inimitable on-court persona made the American less eager to extend a regular grace.

Stephanie Livaudais: Like Brooksby, I don’t relate to the expectation that you’re supposed to apologize for a lucky letcord winner. When I’m playing tennis—even as a humble 2.5 beginner—I’m doing everything possible to win as many points as I can. Some shots take skill, and then there are a few lucky moments. The letcord winner is clearly the latter.

Being on the receiving end of one is particularly demoralizing, because there’s no play on the ball. I appreciate it if my opponent puts their racquet up, but I never expect an apology. And I never apologize for hitting one myself—I’m thrilled to win the point, although I put my racquet up each time to acknowledge that it was a lucky shot.

But why should I apologize? I almost broke my ankle—or died!—trying to win the point. I’ll take it and move on to the next.

The Verdict: Just like it costs nothing to smile or say "Thank you," the letcord apology is ultimately innocuous, another quirk of a sport that tries to be both competitive and convivial.