The Endangered Poetry of the One-Handed Backhand

There is no shot in tennis - perhaps no single movement in all of modern sport - that carries the aesthetic majesty of a perfectly struck one-handed backhand.

When executed cleanly, it doesn't look like an athletic strike so much as a piece of classical choreography. The shoulders turn in coiled secrecy, the chest opens to the sky, and the racquet unfurls like a whip, sending the ball whistling across the court on a string of pure physics.

Think of Roger Federer floating across the baseline, carving angles so acute they seemed to defy Euclidean geometry. Think of Stan Wawrinka, whose single-hander is less a brushstroke and more a sonic boom, blasting through Novak Djokovic's fortress of defence on the red clay of Roland Garros. Or watch young Lorenzo Musetti today, whose flowing swing looks like something sketched by Da Vinci, reminding us that touch, variety, and spin remain tennis's highest currency.

Yet, for all its undeniable poetry, are we are watching a dying art?

The Streak That Fell at Flushing Meadows

The precarious state of the single-hander became a reality at the 2026 US Open.

Heading into New York, men's tennis held onto one of the most astonishing records in sporting history: since the very first Wimbledon Championships in 1877, at least one player wielding a one-handed backhand had reached the semi-finals of at least one Grand Slam tournament every single calendar year. That is 149 uninterrupted years of romantic defiance.

By the fourth round under the floodlights in Queens, that entire legacy rested solely on the shoulders of Stefanos Tsitsipas. As reported by the ATP Tour, the Greek star was the solitary one-hander left carrying the torch in the draw after the earlier exits in Melbourne, Paris, and London.

Standing across the net was Ben Shelton - a ferocious embodiment of the modern two-handed game, bouncing on his toes and unleashing 140mph kick serves that leapt above shoulder height. Over three sets (6-2, 6-3, 6-4), Shelton gave Tsitsipas no room to breathe, denying any break points. When the final return drifted wide, the verdict was written: for the first time in a century and a half, not a single one-handed backhand will grace a Grand Slam semi-final in a calendar year.

In the 1950s, nearly every player on tour played with one hand on the wing. Today, as Tsitsipas poignantly reflected in his post-match press conference, they account for barely three percent of the locker room. In an era of heavy topspin, spring-loaded synthetic strings, and shoulder-high balls, modern coaching prioritises the rock-solid leverage and return-of-serve stability of two hands. Efficiency has inevitably squeezed out elegance.

A Confession from the Other Side of the Net

Which brings me to an uncomfortable personal admission.

As a writer for Good News Tennis, I want nothing more than to preach the timeless gospel of the one-handed backhand. I want to tell you that romance will triumph over brutal mechanics, and that junior academies around the world will suddenly turn away from the baseline grind to teach kids the fluid release of Musetti's finish.

The reality? I couldn't master the one handed backhand (yet). My swing path just isn't right to get the speed and spin. An outcome of bad habits from playing tennis (without any coaching) when I was young maybe? So now I play with two hands.

But maybe this article could inspire me to keep trying....

Long Live the Rebels

And that is the delicious irony of our sport: we can celebrate the brutal efficiency of the two-hander on our own side of the net, while continuing to hold a deep, reverent affection for the brave souls who still hit with one.

The one-handed backhand may currently be up against it when aiming for Grand Slam silverware , but its cultural place in tennis is forever secure. Every time Musetti bends low to paint the tramlines, or Wawrinka uncorks a vintage down-the-line winner, the crowd doesn't just applaud - they exhale in collective wonder.

The 149-year streak may have ended in New York, but true art never really goes out of style.