Naomi Osaka
Photograph courtesy of The Atlanta Cup/Jared Wickerham
It’s a Saturday night at Gas South Arena in Duluth, and Naomi Osaka and Aryna Sabalenka are deep in a rally. Osaka floats up a lob; Sabalenka chases it down and answers with a tweener—a shot between the legs while facing away from the net—before closing the point with a backhand drop shot. She immediately spins around and locks eyes with Nick Kyrgios, king of the tweener, who’s watching from the stands. The crowd erupts.
This isn’t just tennis. It’s the inaugural Atlanta Cup, an exhibition match held December 6.
Until 2024, Atlanta hosted the ATP’s 250-level Atlanta Open. When the tour retired the event to tighten its schedule, the city lost its only professional tournament—a surprising absence in a place where recreational tennis thrives. “Everyone was upset with the ATP event leaving and I wondered how I could bring an exhibition match here,” said founder Jason Dolan. After talking with players and scouting venues, he assembled a dream roster: Naomi Osaka, Aryna Sabalenka, Atlanta native Ben Shelton, and Nick Kyrgios.
Aryna Sabalenka
Photograph courtesy of The Atlanta Cup/Jared Wickerham
Exhibition matches are unofficial—players earn appearance fees and tend to relax, leaning into the showmanship they can’t always afford to play into during a tournament. It’s how you get Sabalenka firing off tweeners or Osaka subbing in a ball girl for a game (an unforgettable moment for that kid). But playful doesn’t mean low-quality; they’re still professionals. Shelton still delivered his signature 144-mile-per-hour serves and Osaka carved angles that left us blinking like the confused math lady meme.
Naomi Osaka and a ball girl
Photograph courtesy of The Atlanta Cup/Jared Wickerham
As a recreational tennis player that picked up the sport a little over a year ago, I completely missed the Atlanta Open era, and traveling to a major tournament hasn’t been in the cards. I knew attending an exhibition match wouldn’t be the same as a grand slam, but I couldn’t resist the chance to see these players in person, just 30 minutes from home. Walking in to the arena and seeing nearly 10,000 Atlantans buzzing with excitement confirmed that I wasn’t alone.
The crowd, predominately clad in vintage Lacoste sweaters with the occasional sequined skirts, raucously filled the intimate arena with cheers and chants, delighted not to be held to the hush-and-murmur etiquette of traditional tournaments. Even the umpire joined in the fun, bantering with players between points. Atlanta’s Chris Eubanks, who recently announced his retirement, hosted the evening and even played a point in his suit.
The Atlanta Cup
Photograph courtesy of The Atlanta Cup/Jared Wickerham
And unlike a baseball game, where fans sometimes show up because it’s simply something to do, this felt like a room full of people who chose to be here. My seat mate, Antonia Bakalova, attended with her neighbor Emily. Bakalova doesn’t play tennis but started following the sport because of Sabalenka, whose face was emblazoned on her t-shirt. “I like her because she’s a fighter,” she said. “Even when she’s down, she finds a way.”
For Cameron Heard, whose wife surprised him with tickets, the Atlanta Cup offered nostalgia and possibility. “I live in south Atlanta, so getting up here (to Duluth) was a hike, but it’s a great event,” he said. “I went to the Atlanta Open and I was really bummed when they got rid of it, so I was really happy that they organized this event.” Did the night make him want to start playing again? “Oh, one hundred percent,” he laughed.
Ben Shelton
Photograph courtesy of The Atlanta Cup/Jared Wickerham
Before the event, Dolan told me that what sets live tennis apart is the sound: “The ball striking the racquet,” he said. “It’s incredible.” He wasn’t wrong. But the magic of the night went beyond that crisp pop: it was Sabalenka’s smirks, Osaka’s graceful prance before unleashing a punishing forehand in her yellow ruffled dress, and the crowd’s collective gasp when Shelton tracked down a seemingly impossible ball. I’ve long been an Osaka fan, but I left with a new appreciation for Sabalenka—the world number one who somehow manages to dominate and not take herself too seriously, at least not on this stage.
Sitting in the stands, taking it all in, I felt a sense of camaraderie I’d never experienced in sports. We weren’t cheering for a team or even a particular player—we were simply there for the love of tennis.
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