On May 26th, professional tennis player Naomi Osaka announced via Twitter that she would not be tending to any of her media obligations for the during the upcoming French Open. In a lengthy post, the 23-year-old cited media duties as anxiety inducing and poor for her mental health, questioning the validity of the pre- and post-game press conferences as they exist in their current format.

“We’re often sat there and asked questions that we’ve been asked multiple times before,” Osaka wrote. “Or asked questions that bring doubt into our minds. And I’m just not going to subject myself to people that doubt me.” 

Following her post, a multitude of tennis’s governing bodies made it clear that she would be punished with a $15,000 fine and suspension, and the second-ranked tennis player eventually withdrew from the tournament. In the wake of her decision, a plenitude of athletes spoke on the issue, and the world of sports media has tried to reckon with what this means for the institutionalized sports press conference—and the profession at large. 

Her peers, by and large, have been supportive. When asked about the situation, Serena Williams said she feels for Naomi. “I feel like I wish I could give her a hug,” said the most decorated player in the sport. “Because I know what it’s like.” Venus Williams had similarly kind words for Osaka via Instagram comments, and came to her defense with a disdainful explanation to the press. 

“For me personally, how I deal with it was that I know every single person asking me a question can’t play as well as I can and never will,” Venus said. “So no matter what you say or what you write, you’ll never light a candle to me. So that’s how I deal with it. But each person deals with it differently.”

Some in the sports journalism ecosystem think the blame falls on the cold, formal, rigid nature of the press conference. In a Slate article about Osaka’s decision, journalist Alex Kirshner described it as, “a format that makes genuine human connection essentially impossible.” A room full of reporters, all asking the same questions–match after match, game after game. In The Guardian, Jonathan Liew wrote that the press conference has become “a cynical and often predatory game in which the object is to mine as much content from the subject as possible.” 

Other’s placed the onus more squarely on the concept of a modern athlete. ESPN’s Howard Bryant wrote on Twitter that this sort of decision was inevitable once athlete’s started “positioning themselves as ‘entertainers.’” They feel their obligation is to perform and go home, Bryant writes, and rather melodramatically described this change as another “assault” on “public wealth, public good, public journalism.” Piers Morgan similarly called her “Narcissistic Naomi,” and accused her of the same solipsism that Bryant believes is intrinsic to the modern athlete. 

The fervor, though, seemed to indicate that Osaka’s decision was the first of its kind. The thing is, it’s actually part of a growing list of athlete abstention. In 2015, soccer player Cristiano Ronaldo, arguably the most famous sportsman in history, made a press conference appearance after a win against Schalke 04, only to declare: “I’m not going to talk. I won’t talk to the press again until the end of the season.” In response to the Osaka withdrawal, Formula 1 racer Nico Rosberg revealed he “switched everything off. No media. No news. No emails.” Perhaps the most famous press conference rebuff came from Marshawn Lynch’s infamous Super Bowl media day. “I’m just here so I won’t get fined,” Lynch repeated after every question. The following media day he came armed with a new catchphrase: “You know why I’m here.” As recent as May of this year, Phillies manager Joe Girardi announced he won’t be reporting team injuries to anyone in the media. This season, Kyrie Irving defiantly declared, “I do not talk to Pawns.” 

Few, if any, of these athletes faced any real backlash. Even less had as good a reason as Osaka. Lynch actually made a profit, trademarking “I’m just here so I won’t get fined,” and producing merchandise.

So why did l’affaire Osaka cause such a hubbub? Perhaps it’s because tennis has a history of being closed off to the press, and that the post-match interviews are more essential than in other sports. In 2020, Jon Wetheim wrote that “any journalist satisfied about the level of access [in tennis] would be committing an act of professional malpractice.” For a sport that is already hurting to connect the press and its athletes, perhaps Osaka’s rebuke of its singular press entity was too much to bear.

However, it also signals an important turning point for sports journalism. In general, the industry is coming face to face with the slow demise of an institution that once promised access to everyone. As players embrace social media, frequently decline to meet the press, and see resources like The Player’s Tribune at their disposal, they are less likely to feel beholden to the impersonal format of the press conference. And what does that impersonal format offer to the fans? They’re getting used to Kevin Durant responding to Tweets, or watching athletes livestream video games. 

While the press conference will never truly die, it might be time for sports media to embrace change, rather than raging against the future, yearning for the past, and putting athletes in the uncomfortable middle.