Defining Tennis Greatness: Steve Flink on the Qualities of an Immortal Player

As reported by The New York Times, Steve Flink — the tennis writer who has spent more than fifty years observing the micro-adjustments that separate champions from also-rans — is asking a deceptively simple question in his newest volume: what separates a great player from an immortal one? The 2017 International Tennis Hall of Fame inductee lays out the philosophy behind "The Immortals of American Tennis" in an interview and excerpt that reach beyond trophy counts, framing greatness as a matter of resonance rather than accumulation.

Beyond the numbers

Flink's criterion is unfashionably humanistic in an era of serve-speed metrics and hold percentages. "The immortals establish themselves as authentic by virtue of their far reaching impact and influence and not simply with their numerical successes," he tells the Times. The distinction reframes greatness as resonance — how a player's movement, mind, and moment aligned to shift the sport's trajectory. From Don Budge's racquet artistry to Billie Jean King's cultural reverberation, Flink's nineteen selections function less like a rankings list and more like a series of psychological portraits, each capturing a different alignment of the kinetic chain with the mental game.

The composition and its tensions

The selection is candidly contentious, and Flink owns the discomfort. Andy Roddick, who delivered America's last Grand Slam men's title, does not make the book. Stan Smith, whose name became immortal through a sneaker rather than a forehand, hovers at the boundary alongside Tracy Austin. The honorable mentions are themselves a constellation: Alice Marble, Ellsworth Vines, Jim Courier, Lindsay Davenport, Jennifer Capriati. Flink's choice to place Martina Navratilova ahead of Serena Williams is sure to provoke argument, but it is consistent with his framing — influence and authenticity, not accumulation alone. Published by Australia's Gelding Street Press, the volume spans just over two hundred pages, with roughly three thousand words devoted to each featured career.

A mirror held to the modern tour

The published excerpt turns toward a figure Flink believes "could, and perhaps should, have been greater at the time of their success" — an oblique reminder that legacy is often posthumous in spirit, recognized only when the game has moved far enough to see clearly. For a tour still searching for its next American immortal, the implicit question hovers over every contemporary breakthrough: does the player possess not only the weapons but the psychological architecture to bend the sport itself? Flink, after fifty years courtside, seems to know the answer when he sees it — and is willing to tell us which names have earned the final verdict.