After he'd lost his fourth-round match at the U.S. Open on Sunday afternoon, the audience at Arthur Ashe Stadium gave Denis Shapovalov a long standing ovation.
Shapovalov is not American. He has no pedigree. It's quite likely that until five days ago, none of these people knew his name.
Sunday's encounter wasn't a wildly entertaining match or an important one. There was no good reason for the audience to salute him in this way.
But, somehow, Shapovalov moved the world's toughest tennis crowd in some indefinable way. He's been in New York for less than two weeks, and he already owns the town.
That's a new one for us.
In the past several years, Canadian tennis has been consistently good. Led by Milos Raonic, the bar has been set just short of a major title. It's been a great run, but it has produced very few real highlights. It has a very workaday feel.
In the span of a week, Shapovalov upended that order. What he managed in New York – making the Round of 16 at a Grand Slam – Raonic has already done 14 times. Shapovalov made it seem as though it were the first time it had happened to us.
He's giving Canadian tennis (and maybe tennis, full stop) what it lacked – style. Shapovalov is the sort of player everyone wants to see.
"He went into the summer as Denis," analyst Chris Evert said afterward. "He's coming out of it as a superstar. A rock star, really, out there."
It's difficult to encapsulate how remarkable and unexpected this is. This is a kid who has not only won nothing, but also done almost nothing.
Spanish journeyman Pablo Carreno Busta, the No. 12 seed, beat the Canadian 7-6 (2), 7-6 (4), 7-6 (3) on Sunday. The three-hour match was the longest of Shapovalov's pro career.
Shapovalov's prize cheque – $253,000 (U.S.) – represents more than half of his lifetime earnings. Just about everything that happens to him is a personal first.
Yet, by Sunday, Shapovalov was the bookies' fourth favourite to win the tournament – 13 to 1 – ahead of far more established players, such as the world's eighth-ranked player, Dominic Thiem and Wimbledon semi-finalist Sam Querrey.
Even if you're enjoying the hell out of it, you'll admit it's all a little ridiculous.
It's happening so fast, it's already getting (mildly) creepy. Nobody cared at all about Sunday's winner – a genial, plodding player in the 'Generic Euro' mode. Every iota of postmatch attention went to the defeated Canadian.
He was asked if Canada would consider sharing him with the United States – "We're desperately looking for a young, charismatic, long-haired guy with a great flowing backhand."
(I have a terrible feeling that's how we used to sound to the rest of the world. Here's another reason why it's good to finally be good.)
Can you imagine someone saying something like that to Raonic? You cannot. He's too focused, too stiff, too serious – off the court as well as on it. But Shapovalov didn't blink.
The 18-year-old is not yet a gifted raconteur, but he's guileless.
Most pro-athletes have a brain-mouth filter – that half-second of blank stare during which their answers are being run through internal software designed to make everything that comes out boring.
Shapovalov doesn't have that. You just know he is telling you the first thing that pops into his head. He didn't deflect when asked if he had time for two national girlfriends. He grabbed hold of the question with alarming earnestness.
He told a story about being approached by a hyperventilating fan in Central Park a couple of days ago. He mimed the kid's panic and surprise, hands waving around, said he couldn't talk "because he was shaking so much."
"Moments like this are why I grew up wanting to play tennis," Shapovalov said. "I want to try to change the sport."
People connect to that sort of aspiration. Most of the best-loved male tennis stars – from John McEnroe and Jimmy Connors to Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer – have been fairly ordinary people living inside extraordinary bodies. They have never lost their ability to project how lucky they feel. Their personalities are an extension of their games.
Shapovalov is in that tradition – his on-court approach is one of untamed, constant max-effort ambition, while his off-court presentation is one of wide-eyed, "Can you believe this is really happening to me?!" zeal. The two things complement each other nicely.
However, he is still remarkably callow.
He could have – probably should have – won Sunday's match. But where Busta was methodical and unflappable, Shapovalov was flighty and erratic. After breaking his opponent in the first set, the teenager took a game off. The momentum slipped out of his hands. He never fully got hold of it again.
He was the better player, which, in tennis, often doesn't matter. If the talents are evenly matched, the smarter player wins every time. Busta didn't beat Shapovalov with his shots. He did it with his experience.
There's no shame in it. In fact, it may have been the best thing for Shapovalov. There's only so much you can manage the first time out without creating an unrealistic expectation. This run was already stretching the limits of that idea.
Shapovalov has been lucky in many things, but most of all in his timing. The U.S. Open marks the effective end of the tennis season. The spotlight will not fully turn back onto him until five months from now in Melbourne, Australia.
Within a few days, Shapovalov will leap up the rankings. He'll land in the neighbourhood of 50th in the world.
Next year, he won't need to qualify for Grand Slams. But they will still be new. He's never played in the Australian or the French Open. He's never been a someone at Wimbledon. He will be now. He's in the long moment in which a torrid debut can be transformed into global fame.
You could mount a credible argument that the last month has turned Shapovalov into one of the most popular players in all of tennis.
Now, all he has to do is prove to all the people standing and cheering that they're right.
Cathal Kelly