With ten words, sport reached a new low.
Nick, we wanted to like you. We really did.
But today, you totally crossed the line.
When you came crashing out of relative obscurity into the forefront of our national sporting psyche during Wimbledon in 2014, you were our Great Hope.
You were the Aussie teenage wildcard – smashing top-seeded players, making it to the quarter finals, beating world number one Rafael Nadal – that graced both the back and front pages of our local newspapers.
You inspired that rare surge of national pride. “Our boy is doing it!” we cried in unison. “Whatever-his-name-is – the young Aussie bloke – he’s really doing it!”
We loved you and your ear bling, your razored eyebrow, the zig-zags in your closely cropped hair that looked like UFO crop circles.
Your youth, your fight, your massive potential. We loved it all.