Giovanni Mpetshi Perricard, at just 20 years old, has already made his mark on the tennis world, not just because of his towering 6’8” frame or his lightning-fast serve, but because of the reaction he’s provoked. In an era where physical excellence should be celebrated, the young Frenchman’s 148 MPH serve—a feat most tennis players could only dream of—is instead being met with suspicion, criticism, and even some conspiracy-laced ridicule. The backlash he’s received says less about him and more about a growing discomfort in sports with physical outliers—those who push the boundaries of what seems humanly possible.
To start, let’s get the facts straight: a 148 MPH serve is astonishing, but not impossible. It doesn’t violate physics. It doesn’t defy the known capabilities of the human body. In fact, it’s a logical extension of the game’s evolution. Tennis has steadily become more physical over the decades—players are taller, faster, stronger, and more powerful. Racket technology has improved. Training regimens are optimized to the last molecule. The average speed of serves on both the ATP and WTA tours has increased. Giovanni’s achievement is not some glitch in the matrix; it’s what happens when size, technique, athleticism, and timing align perfectly. And yes, it helps that he’s built like a demigod, with a frame that gives him leverage and power most players simply don’t have.
But that’s where the discourse begins to sour. Instead of marveling at the serve, or appreciating how rare such a weapon is in competitive tennis, online critics immediately zeroed in on his height. “It’s not fair,” some cried. “He’s too tall. The net looks like a toy to him.” Others went further, claiming his arms looked different lengths, as if a physical anomaly somehow discredits his athletic achievement. Then came the conspiracy theories: slow-mo breakdowns of the serve, accusations of radar gun errors, even suggestions that tennis needs to “rethink the rules” to account for “unnatural” players like Giovanni. It’s wild, but it’s also deeply revealing.
There’s a long history in sports of discomfort with athletes who don’t fit the traditional mold. In basketball, players like Yao Ming and later Victor Wembanyama faced similar skepticism, with critics wondering if someone “that tall” could possibly be for real. In swimming, Michael Phelps’ unusually long wingspan and double-jointed ankles led to whispers of unfair biological advantage. Even in tennis, Ivo Karlović and John Isner have long been pigeonholed as “serve bots,” as if their height precludes them from being true athletes. Giovanni is walking into that same cultural discomfort—where being outside the norm is seen not as a gift, but as a threat to the integrity of the sport.
The irony is that sports are inherently about outliers. We don’t tune in to watch average people doing average things. We watch to see the extraordinary. We marvel at a 100-meter sprint under 10 seconds, a 60-yard Hail Mary touchdown, a gymnast flying through the air in ways that seem to defy physics. We applaud when someone breaks records, until—apparently—they break them in a way that challenges our preconceptions. That’s what seems to be happening with Giovanni. His serve is so fast, so clean, and so rare that instead of celebrating it, some fans feel the need to explain it away or cast suspicion on it.
What’s really going on here isn’t just about height or serve speed. It’s about how we react when someone challenges the norm too aggressively. When someone doesn’t just bend the rules of expectation but threatens to rewrite them. There’s a fear that Giovanni’s kind of power will change the game—that tennis will become a contest of giants, that touch and finesse will die out, that players who don’t have the genetic gifts he does will be left behind. That fear is understandable but misguided.
First, let’s address the obvious: being 6’8” is not some cheat code. It comes with advantages, sure—reach, leverage, power—but it also comes with drawbacks. Movement, endurance, and flexibility are all harder for taller players. Tennis isn’t just about serve speed. If it were, Karlović would have ten Grand Slams. The greatest players of all time—Federer, Nadal, Djokovic—are not giants. They’ve relied on a complex combination of skill, strategy, mental strength, and physical conditioning. Giovanni’s height gives him a killer serve, but it doesn’t guarantee wins. His career will still depend on how well he can develop the rest of his game, stay healthy, and adapt to different playing styles. No one wins on serve alone, especially not in the modern era of return-focused, baseline-heavy tennis.
Second, the idea of changing rules to level the playing field against someone like Giovanni is absurd. What would that even look like—lowering the net for shorter players? Penalizing tall players with foot faults? It’s a slippery slope that undermines the very nature of competition. The point of sports is that people bring different tools to the table. Some players win with raw power, others with precision, others with mental resilience. The beauty of tennis lies in its variety. A giant server like Perricard facing a crafty returner creates a fascinating contrast. We don’t need to sanitize the sport to protect some imaginary notion of fairness.
The “different arm length” comments are particularly revealing. It’s reminiscent of the pseudo-scientific nonsense that gets thrown around when people don’t want to admit someone is just built differently. Every elite athlete has something about them that’s unusual. Phelps had massive feet. Usain Bolt had an asymmetrical stride. Serena Williams has a muscle structure that gave her power unmatched on the women’s tour for years. These aren’t faults or cheats. They’re differences—and sport is about celebrating those differences, not pretending they shouldn’t exist.
There’s also a racial undercurrent to some of the criticism Giovanni is getting. It’s no secret that Black athletes often face heightened scrutiny when they dominate physically. Whether it’s Serena being called “too strong” or LeBron being dismissed as “just an athlete,” there’s a persistent discomfort in some circles with Black excellence that manifests physically. Giovanni is Black, French, and unapologetically dominant in one particular aspect of the game. That’s a combination that makes some people uncomfortable—though they won’t admit that outright. Instead, they’ll focus on “unfair advantages” and start nitpicking biomechanics. It’s a familiar pattern, and one that deserves to be called out.
In the end, Giovanni Mpetshi Perricard is doing exactly what young athletes are supposed to do: push the game forward. His 148 MPH serve is a signal that tennis is still evolving, that there are new frontiers to explore, and that greatness comes in many forms. He’s not breaking the game; he’s adding to it. It’s up to the rest of the tennis world to adapt, not complain. Coaches will analyze his technique. Players will study his serve and look for patterns. The sport will find ways to respond, as it always has. That’s how progress works.
So instead of dissecting his body or speculating about fairness, maybe we should take a step back and just appreciate the moment. A 20-year-old, relatively unknown to the mainstream until recently, just hit one of the fastest serves in tennis history. That should be thrilling. That should make us curious—about what’s next, about how he’ll develop, about who might rise to challenge him. Because if Giovanni is just the beginning of a new wave of tennis phenoms, we’re in for one hell of a ride.
And let’s be honest—there’s something exhilarating about seeing a serve so fast it looks like CGI. It reminds us why we watch sports in the first place: to be shocked, awed, and inspired. Giovanni delivered all of that in one swing. The haters can argue in the comments. The rest of us will be watching the future.
