Something that cannot spread
Under the glamorous surface of historical imprints and stadiums packed with spectators, world tennis is facing a problem that must be solved early. That is the story of media rights, which both feeds the tennis ecosystem and unintentionally stifles the access of this sport to the new public. The incident surrounding Maria Sakkari's miraculous ball in her opening match at the Australian Open 2026, when both WTA and fans could not share the video due to copyright issues, is just a small but typical slice of that big picture.
For decades, tennis has been built on 3 familiar revenue pillars: ticket sales, sponsorship and broadcasting rights. When linear television was in its golden age, this model operated smoothly. Grand Slams signed contracts worth hundreds of millions, even billions of USD, in return for strict protection of images and content. The larger the tournament, the higher the level of "closedness". This is understandable, because the greater the commercial value of a product, the stricter the requirements for exclusive protection.
But the problem is that the media world has changed much faster than tennis adjusts itself. Young fans are no longer patient with overlapping subscription packages, each tournament a platform, each content a separate door. They live in an ecosystem where short clips, highlights, memes and behind-the-scenes videos are the first "touchpoint" with a sport. When a beautiful shot cannot be shared just because "there is no right", tennis has built more barriers for itself.
The complexity of copyright
The complexity of tennis copyright is most clearly shown in the way tournaments and tours are divided. 4 Grand Slams hold separate broadcasting rights, ATP and WTA are two different systems, each side has an independent commercial strategy. Even in large markets like the US, a fan who wants to watch the entire season must register for many different services, from cable television to streaming, from Tennis Channel to ESPN, from ATP TV to individual platforms of each tournament. Experience is fragmented, while costs are increasing.
It is in that context that the biggest paradox of tennis is revealed. Tennis players, the central figures creating value, are maximally restricted from using their own competition images. They are not allowed to post highlighted videos, are not allowed to use beautiful balls to tell personal stories on social networks. Daria Saville has to sign petitions, Daria Kasatkina has to speak out, Coco Gauff publicly expresses her desire for more "everyday" content, all showing the increasing gap between modern media needs and traditional copyright thinking.
The organizers are not without understanding the problem. The Australian Open once "circumvented" copyright by broadcasting matches in cartoon format on YouTube, an idea that was both creative and showed the deadlock of the old model. WTA tested behind-the-scenes series, ATP cooperated with media companies aimed at Gen Z. But those are still patchwork solutions, because the core of the problem lies in the fragmented copyright structure and the approach that is too biased towards protection, rather than expansion.
Fear and direction
Looking at other sports, the difference is very clear. Formula One succeeded in accepting to let racers become "social media stars", appearing densely on Netflix, Twitch, YouTube. Golf gradually opened its doors to content creators. Even football, which is also heavily dependent on television rights, still allows a certain space for highlights, debates and side stories. Tennis, on the contrary, is still struggling with the fear that any easing will reduce the value of broadcasting contracts.
That fear is not without basis, especially in the post-Covid-19 period, when many tournaments were once on the verge of financial ruin. But if only looking at the short term, tennis may be putting itself in a long-term risk. As streaming gradually replaces cable television, the value of traditional exclusive contracts may decline. If at that time, tennis does not have a new generation of fans who are large enough, nurtured from open "gateways" such as social networks and free-to-share content, then the revenue gap will be very difficult to compensate for.
One of the directions mentioned a lot is the merger of ATP and WTA rights, towards a common commercial structure. In theory, this can simplify the experience for the audience, creating a unified "destination" for tennis content. But in reality, the difference in revenue and power between men's and women's tennis makes this process prolonged. However, this is still a signal that tennis has begun to re-examine itself.
What lessons for Vietnamese tennis?
From the world story, looking at Vietnamese tennis, the lessons learned are not small. We do not have copyright contracts worth hundreds of millions of USD to protect at all costs. On the contrary, what Vietnamese tennis lacks most is audience, which is sustainable public interest. In that context, "opening" instead of "closing" may be a more reasonable choice.
Domestic tournaments, from professional systems to amateur, can completely take advantage of social networks as a main broadcast channel, accepting athletes, coaches and fans to share images, clips, behind-the-scenes stories. Instead of fearing losing value, Vietnamese tennis needs to prioritize building value from the beginning: creating a habit of following, creating emotions and attachment. A young tennis player known through TikTok or YouTube today may be the reason for audiences to buy tickets to the stadium tomorrow.
In addition, building a unified copyright focal point for domestic tournaments, even on a small scale, is also very necessary. Not to tighten, but to manage and distribute content more intelligently. Copyright should not just be a tool to prevent, but must become a spreading tool. When content is shared properly, commercial value will come later, slowly but sustainably.
World tennis is facing a crossroads, where the collision between old thinking and new needs is increasingly clear. The story of copyright is no longer a purely technical or legal issue, but a story about how a sport chooses its future. Closing tightly to maintain short-term value, or opening up to nurture the next generation of fans, is not an easy choice.
With Vietnamese tennis, fortunately, we are in a stage where we can learn without paying too high a price. Look at the deadlocks of the world to avoid repeating them, look at the opportunities of new media to go faster. Because in the end, a sport only truly lives when its beautiful moments are seen, recounted and spread, not when they are locked behind the words "no copyright".
