Lleyton Hewitt: The Life Story Behind Australia's Fighting Star

Lleyton Hewitt did not have the biggest serve, and he did not have the biggest forehand, and he was not the tallest player on the court. What he had was something that cannot be taught and cannot be measured: a refusal to lose. He chased every ball, he fought for every point, he pumped his fist and shouted “Come on!” so loudly that the whole stadium could hear him, and he wore his opponents down, not with power, but with will. He became the youngest man ever to finish a year as the world number one, he won the US Open and Wimbledon, he helped Australia to win the Davis Cup, and he played for nearly twenty years, long after his body had begun to break down, because he loved the fight too much to stop.

His story begins in Adelaide, in South Australia, where a boy who was good at Australian rules football chose tennis instead, and where he learned, from his family, that hard work and toughness were the things that mattered most. It is a story of a teenager who won a tournament before he was old enough to drive, of a young man who became the best in the world at twenty, of a champion who was loved in Australia and disliked in other places, of injuries that should have ended his career, and of a farewell at the Australian Open that brought a whole nation to its feet.

This is the life of Lleyton Hewitt, the fighter, the warrior, and the man who never gave up.

Adelaide: A Football Boy Who Chose Tennis

Lleyton Glynn Hewitt was born on 24 February 1981 in Adelaide, South Australia, the son of Glynn Hewitt, a former Australian rules footballer, and Cherilyn Hewitt, a former netball player. Sport was in his blood, and he grew up in a home where competition was a part of daily life, and where winning mattered, and where losing was something to be avoided at all costs. As a young boy, he was good at Australian rules football, a tough and physical game, and many people thought he would follow his father into that sport, but he chose tennis instead, because he loved the one-on-one battle of it, and because he loved the feeling of winning a point on his own, without anyone else to help him or to blame.

He started playing tennis when he was young, and he was good at it at once, not because he was big, but because he was fast, and because he was tough, and because he never gave up on a ball. He was a counter-puncher, a player who let his opponents hit the ball hard, and who used their power against them, running them from side to side, and making them play one more shot, and then one more, until they made a mistake. It was a style that suited his body, because he was not tall, and he was not powerful, but he was quick, and he was brave, and he had a heart that never stopped.

He was coached, in his early years, by his father, and by other coaches in Adelaide, and he learned to be disciplined, and to work hard, and to respect the game. He was also a boy who liked to win, and who hated to lose, and who showed his feelings on the court, pumping his fist, shouting, and celebrating, in a way that Australian crowds loved, because it reminded them of the way Australian sportsmen had always played: with passion, and with pride, and with a refusal to give in. He was, from the start, a player who wore his heart on his sleeve, and who would do so for his whole career.

In 1998, when he was sixteen years old, he won his first professional tournament, in Adelaide, his home town, beating Andre Agassi in the semi-final along the way, a victory that shocked the tennis world, because Agassi was one of the best players in the world, and Hewitt was a boy who had not yet finished school. It was a sign of what was to come, and it was a moment that the people of Adelaide never forgot, because they had seen one of their own beat a legend, in their own city, before he was old enough to drive a car.

Teenage Star and the Rise to Number One

After his victory in Adelaide, Hewitt’s rise was fast. He turned professional in 1998, and he climbed the rankings quickly, winning tournaments, and beating players who were older and more experienced than he was. He was not the most talented player of his generation, but he was the toughest, and the toughest player often wins, because tennis is a game of the mind as much as it is a game of the body, and Hewitt’s mind was stronger than almost anyone’s. He believed he could win every match, and he played as if he believed it, and his opponents felt it, and they began to doubt themselves, and the doubt was enough.

In 2000, he helped Australia to win the Davis Cup, the team competition between countries, and he played a key role in the victory, winning matches against the best players in the world, and showing that he could handle the pressure of playing for his country. The Davis Cup meant a great deal to him, because he was an Australian, and because Australians take the Davis Cup seriously, and because he wanted to be a part of the team that brought the trophy home. It was the first of many Davis Cup campaigns for him, and it was the start of a love affair with the competition that would last for his whole career.

In 2001, he won the US Open, beating Pete Sampras in the final in straight sets, a victory that announced him as the best young player in the world, and that showed that he could beat the greatest player of the previous generation on the biggest stage. He was twenty years old, and he was a Grand Slam champion, and the tennis world began to understand that it had a new star, a star who was not the most gifted, but who was the most determined. He finished 2001 as the world number one, the youngest man ever to do so, and he held that ranking for 75 weeks in total, a remarkable achievement for a player who had been written off by many people as too small and too weak to reach the top.

He won Wimbledon in 2002, beating David Nalbandian in the final in straight sets, and he became one of the few players in history to hold the US Open and Wimbledon titles at the same time. He was the best player in the world, and he was only twenty-one years old, and the future seemed to have no limits. He was loved in Australia, where the crowds chanted his name, and where his “Come on!” became a national catchphrase, and he was respected around the world, even by people who did not like his on-court behaviour, because they could see how hard he fought, and how much he wanted to win.

The “Come On!” and the Fire That Divided Crowds

Hewitt’s on-court behaviour was one of the most talked-about parts of his career, because he was loud, and emotional, and he celebrated every point as if it were the last, pumping his fist, shouting “Come on!”, and staring at his opponents. Australian crowds loved it, because it was the way Australian sportsmen had always played, with passion and with pride, but crowds in other countries did not always love it, and some people thought he was rude, and that he showed too little respect for his opponents. He was also involved in controversies, including an incident at the US Open in 2001, when he made a comment about a linesman that was widely criticised, and for which he later apologised.

He was a player who divided opinion, and he knew it, and he did not change, because the fire was a part of who he was, and because he believed that the fire made him a better player. He played with his heart on his sleeve, and he never hid what he felt, and that honesty was both his strength and his weakness. It made him a fighter, and it made him a champion, but it also made him a target, and it meant that some crowds cheered against him, even when he was playing beautiful tennis.

He was also a player who was not afraid to speak his mind, and who was not afraid to stand up for what he believed in, and that sometimes got him into trouble with the tennis authorities, and with the press. He was fined, and he was criticised, and he was written about in ways that were not always fair, but he kept playing, and he kept fighting, and he kept shouting “Come on!”, because that was who he was, and he was not going to change for anyone. It was a stubbornness that made him a champion, and it was a stubbornness that made him a controversial figure, and the two things were joined together in a way that could not be separated.

In the years after his peak, the fire remained, even as his body began to fail him, and even as the wins became less frequent, and the crowds began to wonder if he would ever win again. He kept fighting, because fighting was what he did, and because he did not know how to do anything else, and the fight became the story of his later career, a story of a man who refused to give up, even when giving up would have been the sensible thing to do.

Injuries, Surgery, and the Long Fight Back

Hewitt’s career was marked by injuries, and by the surgeries that followed them, and by the long periods of recovery that tested his patience and his will. He had problems with his hip, his knee, his foot, and his back, and he had operations that kept him off the court for months at a time, and each time he came back, he was a little slower, and a little less powerful, and the young players who had once feared him began to beat him. He was a player whose game was built on speed and on movement, and when the speed went, the game became harder, and the wins became rarer, and the rankings began to fall.

He had hip surgery, and he had surgery on his foot, and he had treatment for his back, and he kept coming back, because he loved the game, and because he loved the fight, and because he did not want to retire. He played on into his thirties, long after most players of his generation had stopped, and he played in the Davis Cup, and he played at the Australian Open, and he played in front of crowds that loved him, and that cheered him as if he were still the world number one. It was a long goodbye, and it was a goodbye that lasted for years, because he did not want to say it, and because the crowds did not want to hear it.

In 2014, he won the Brisbane International, beating Roger Federer in the final, a victory that showed that he could still beat the best players in the world, even at the age of 32, and even after all the injuries, and even after all the surgeries. It was a victory that meant a great deal to him, and to the Australian crowds, because it was a reminder of what he had once been, and of what he could still be, on a good day, when his body held together, and when his heart was in it. He also won matches at the Australian Open in the years that followed, and he played Davis Cup ties for Australia, and he remained a part of the team, even when he was no longer the best player in it.

He announced, in 2015, that the Australian Open in 2016 would be his last tournament, and he played his final matches in Melbourne, in front of crowds that gave him standing ovations, and that chanted his name, and that thanked him for twenty years of fighting. He lost in the second round to David Ferrer, a Spanish player who was one of his great rivals, and when the match was over, he stood on the court and waved to the crowd, and the crowd waved back, and it was the end of one of the great careers in Australian tennis.

Davis Cup Captain and Life After Playing

After his retirement, Hewitt did not leave tennis. He became the captain of the Australian Davis Cup team, a role that suited him perfectly, because he had always loved the Davis Cup, and because he understood what it meant to play for your country, and because he could teach young players what he had learned in twenty years of fighting. He led the team with the same passion that he had shown as a player, and he helped young Australian players, including Alex de Minaur and Nick Kyrgios, to become better players, and to understand what it means to wear the green and gold of Australia.

He also became a commentator, and a mentor, and a man who was respected by the tennis world for his knowledge, and for his honesty, and for his love of the game. He married Bec Cartwright, an Australian actress, in 2005, and the couple have three children, Mia, Cruz, and Ava, and they have built a family life in Sydney, a life that is quieter than the life of a champion, but that is, in its own way, just as rewarding. He is a father, and a husband, and a captain, and a man who has found a new way to be a part of the game he loves.

He was inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame in 2021, an honour that recognised his career, and his character, and his contribution to the game, and the ceremony was a moment of pride for him, and for his family, and for Australia. He stood on the stage, and he thanked the people who had helped him, and he spoke about his love for the game, and about the importance of fighting, and the crowd listened, because they knew that he meant every word, and because they had watched him fight for twenty years, and they had loved him for it.

Today, Hewitt is remembered as one of the greatest Australian tennis players in history, and as a man who never gave up, and who played with a heart that was bigger than his body. His story is not only about titles, although he won the US Open and Wimbledon, and although he was the world number one. It is about a fighter, and about the value of fighting, and about the lesson that a person who refuses to lose is a person who will always be respected, even when they do lose.

The Federer Years: A Rivalry With the Greatest

Hewitt’s career overlapped with the rise of Roger Federer, the Swiss champion who would become one of the greatest players in history, and their rivalry tells the story of a changing game. In the early years, Hewitt had the better of it, beating Federer in important matches, and leading their head-to-head record, because his fighting style troubled the young Swiss, and because he believed he could win. But as Federer grew into the player he would become, with a game that was more complete and more beautiful than anyone had seen before, the balance changed, and Federer began to win, again and again, until he led their rivalry by a wide margin.

Hewitt never stopped fighting Federer, even when the matches became one-sided, and even when the whole world knew who would win, because that was who he was: a man who would fight, even when the fight seemed hopeless. He played Federer in Grand Slam finals, in Davis Cup ties, and in Masters events, and he lost most of them, but he never gave up, and he never stopped believing, and Federer himself has said that Hewitt was one of the toughest opponents he ever faced, because Hewitt made every point a battle, and because he never gave a point away for free. It is a tribute that matters, because it comes from the greatest player of his generation, and because it recognises that toughness is a kind of greatness too.

The rivalry also showed how the game was changing. Hewitt was a counter-puncher, a player who used his opponent’s power, and Federer was an attacker, a player who created his own power, and who played with a grace that Hewitt could not match. The game moved towards Federer’s style, and towards power, and Hewitt’s style became less effective, but he did not change, because he believed in his way, and because he had reached the top with it, and he was not going to abandon it. He fought on, in his own way, and he won matches that he should not have won, because his heart would not let him lose.

The Australian Open Farewell: Saying Goodbye at Home

The Australian Open in 2016 was Hewitt’s last tournament, and it was a farewell that the whole of Australia watched, because he was saying goodbye at home, in Melbourne, in front of the people who had loved him since he was a boy. He won his first-round match, beating James Duckworth, an Australian player, in front of a crowd that cheered every point, and he lost in the second round to David Ferrer, a Spanish player who had been one of his great rivals, and who played with a toughness that matched his own. It was a fitting end, because Ferrer was a fighter like Hewitt, and because the match was a battle, and because Hewitt fought until the last point, as he always had.

When the match was over, Hewitt stood on the court, and he waved to the crowd, and the crowd stood and cheered, and many people cried, because they knew they were watching the end of an era. He had played at the Australian Open for twenty years, and he had given the crowds everything he had, and they had given him everything they had, and the farewell was a thank you, from both sides. He spoke to the crowd afterwards, thanking his family, his coaches, and the Australian people, and he said that he had loved every moment, even the hard ones, and that he would never forget the support he had received.

The farewell was also a reminder of how much Hewitt meant to Australia. He was not only a tennis player. He was a symbol of the Australian way of playing sport: with passion, with toughness, and with a refusal to give in, and the whole country had adopted him as one of its own. When he retired, the newspapers wrote about him for days, and the television showed his best moments again and again, and the people talked about him in pubs and in homes, because he had been a part of their lives for twenty years, and because they would miss him. It was a farewell fit for a champion, and it was a farewell that he deserved.

My Take:

I think Lleyton Hewitt is the toughest tennis player I have ever watched, and I say that because toughness is the thing that defined him, more than talent, more than skill, and more than any single shot. He was not the biggest, and he was not the strongest, and he was not the most gifted, but he was the toughest, and the toughest player often wins, because tennis is a game of the mind, and Hewitt’s mind was made of iron. He chased every ball, he fought for every point, and he never gave up, even when he was losing, even when he was hurt, even when the match seemed over. That is a kind of greatness that cannot be taught, and it is a kind of greatness that I admire more than any other.

What I love most about Hewitt is his “Come on!”, because it is a sound that I will never forget, and because it tells me everything about who he was. He shouted it after winning a point, after losing a point, after a long rally, and after a short one, and he shouted it with a passion that made the whole stadium feel alive. Some people thought it was rude, and some people thought it was too much, but I thought it was honest, because it was the sound of a man who cared, and who was not afraid to show that he cared. I think the game needs players who care, and who show it, because the game is poorer when everyone is polite and quiet, and Hewitt was never polite and quiet, and I am glad he was not.

I also think about how young he was when he became the best in the world, because that is a remarkable achievement, and it is one that is easy to forget. He was twenty years old when he finished the year as the world number one, the youngest man ever to do so, and he did it by beating Pete Sampras in the US Open final, a man who was the greatest player of the previous generation. That takes a courage that is hard to imagine, because it means walking onto the court against a legend, and believing that you can beat him, and then beating him, in straight sets, in front of the whole world. Hewitt did that, and he did it with a calm that surprised everyone, and I think that is the moment when he became a champion, not only in the record books, but in the hearts of the people who watched him.

But I also have to be honest about the controversies, because they are a part of his story, and they cannot be ignored. He made comments that were hurtful, and he behaved in ways that were not always respectful, and he was criticised for it, and rightly so. I think he learned from those mistakes, and I think he grew up, and I think the Hewitt of his later years was a kinder and wiser man than the Hewitt of his early years, but the mistakes were real, and they hurt people, and they are a reminder that passion, without control, can become a problem. I hope young players learn from that, and learn to control their fire, so that it helps them, and does not hurt others.

The injuries are the part of his story that makes me sad, because they took so much from him, and because they came so early, and because they never really went away. He had surgery on his hip, on his foot, and on other parts of his body, and he kept coming back, and he kept fighting, but the body that had once been so fast became slower, and the player who had once been the best in the world became a player who struggled to win matches. I think about the pain he must have felt, not only in his body, but in his heart, because he knew what he had been, and he knew what he had become, and the gap between the two must have been hard to live with. He lived with it, and he kept playing, and that is a kind of bravery that I respect deeply.

I also admire the way he said goodbye, because it was a goodbye that lasted for years, and that was played out in front of his home crowds, at the Australian Open, where the people loved him most. He did not retire suddenly, and he did not retire in a foreign country. He retired at home, in Melbourne, in front of the people who had watched him grow up, and who had cheered him for twenty years, and the farewell was a beautiful thing, because it was a thank you, from a player to his people, and from his people to their player. I think every athlete should be so lucky, to say goodbye at home, in front of the people who love them, and Hewitt was lucky, and he deserved it.

If I could speak to a young player who is small, and who is not the most talented, I would tell them to watch Hewitt, and to learn from him. I would tell them that size does not matter, and that power does not matter, as much as heart matters, and that a player who refuses to lose is a player who will win more matches than they should, because their opponents will feel the fight, and will begin to doubt themselves. I would tell them to run for every ball, to fight for every point, and to never give up, because that is what Hewitt did, and it took him to the top of the world, and it kept him there, and it made him a legend in Australia.

In the end, I think Lleyton Hewitt will be remembered as a fighter, and as a warrior, and as a man who never gave up, and I think that is a fine legacy. He won the US Open and Wimbledon, he was the world number one, and he helped Australia to win the Davis Cup, and he did it all with a heart that was bigger than his body. I will remember the “Come on!”, and the fist pump, and the fight, and I will remember the man who played for twenty years, through pain and through surgery, because he loved the game too much to stop. That is Hewitt, and that is why I admire him.

I also think about his work as Davis Cup captain, because it shows that he has grown, and that he has learned to lead, not only by fighting, but by teaching. He helps young Australian players, and he shows them what it means to play for their country, and he does it with the same passion that he showed as a player, but now with the wisdom of a man who has been through it all. I think that is a good second act, and I hope he keeps doing it, because Australian tennis needs him, and because young players need a captain who has fought the way he fought, and who can teach them to fight too.

One more thought stays with me, and it is about his family, because he married Bec Cartwright, and they have three children, and they have built a life together that is quieter than the life of a champion, but that is, in its own way, just as important. He was a boy who chose tennis over football, and a man who chose his family over fame, and both choices were brave, and both choices were right. I think about the children who will grow up watching their father fight, and learning from him, and I hope they learn the best parts of him: the toughness, the heart, and the refusal to give up.

And finally, I want to say that I am glad Hewitt is in the Hall of Fame, because he deserves to be there, and because his induction in 2021 was a recognition of a career that was built on fight, not on talent, and that is a career that should be honoured. He was not the most gifted, but he was the toughest, and the Hall of Fame is a place for the great, and Hewitt was great, in his own way, and in a way that will be remembered for a long time. I will remember him as a fighter, and I will always respect a fighter.

I also think about the match against Federer in Brisbane in 2014, because it is a match that shows what Hewitt could still do, even at 32, even after all the surgeries. He beat Federer in the final, in three sets, in front of an Australian crowd that went wild, and it was a victory that meant a great deal, because it proved that the old fighter still had something left, and that the heart had not gone out of him. I think about that when I think about aging, and about the way we all slow down, and I remember that even when we slow down, we can still have great days, and great victories, if we keep fighting, and if we believe in ourselves. Hewitt believed, and he won, and that is a lesson for all of us.

There is one more thing I want to say about his shouting, because I think it is misunderstood. People thought he was shouting at his opponents, or at the crowd, but I think he was shouting at himself, to keep himself going, to remind himself to fight, and to stay in the moment. It was a way of talking to himself, out loud, and it helped him to play better, and it helped him to win. I think many of us talk to ourselves in our heads, when we are trying hard, and Hewitt simply said it out loud, and the world heard it, and judged him for it. I do not judge him for it. I think it was honest, and I think it was brave, to let the world hear what you are saying to yourself.

I also think about the Davis Cup, because it was the competition that Hewitt loved most, and because it brought out the best in him. He played for Australia for many years, and he won the Cup twice, and he played matches that lasted for hours, in front of crowds that cheered him, and he gave everything he had, because he was playing for his country, and not only for himself. I think playing for your country is a special thing, and I think Hewitt understood it better than most players, because he was an Australian, and because Australians take pride in representing their country. He wore the green and gold with pride, and he made his country proud, and that is a legacy that will last.

I also want to say something about his father, Glynn, because he was a footballer, and because he taught his son to be tough, and to compete, and to never give up. A father who has played professional sport knows what it takes, and he knows how hard it is, and he can teach his son things that no coach can teach. Hewitt learned from his father, and he carried those lessons onto the tennis court, and they made him a champion. I think about all the fathers who teach their children to be tough, and I hope they also teach them to be kind, because toughness without kindness is a hard thing to live with, and Hewitt learned kindness late, but he learned it, and he is a better man for it.

I also think about the young Australian players he coaches now, because they are lucky to have him. He can teach them to fight, and he can teach them to believe, and he can teach them what it means to play for Australia, and those are lessons that no textbook can teach. He is a captain who has been to the top, and who has fallen, and who has come back, and who knows what it takes to survive in the game. I hope those young players listen to him, and learn from him, and carry his fighting spirit into the future, because Australian tennis needs it, and because the game needs it.

And I want to finish with a thought about the word “fighter”, because it is the word that defines Hewitt, and it is a word that I respect more than any other in sport. A fighter is a person who does not give up, who does not quit, and who does not accept defeat, even when defeat seems certain. Hewitt was a fighter, on the court and off it, and he fought for twenty years, through injuries, through surgeries, and through defeats, and he never stopped. I hope that when people remember him, they remember the fight, and I hope that young people who read this will learn to fight too, not with anger, but with heart, and with a refusal to give up, because that is what Hewitt taught us, and it is the best lesson in all of sport.

Frequently Asked Questions

How old was Lleyton Hewitt when he became world No. 1?

He was 20 years old when he finished 2001 as the year-end world No. 1, making him the youngest man ever to do so at the time.

Which Grand Slam titles did Lleyton Hewitt win?

He won the US Open in 2001, beating Pete Sampras in the final, and Wimbledon in 2002, beating David Nalbandian in the final.

Why is Lleyton Hewitt famous for saying Come on?

He shouted “Come on!” after winning points throughout his career, pumping his fist, a celebration that became his trademark and a catchphrase in Australia.

How many times did Lleyton Hewitt help Australia win the Davis Cup?

He was part of the Australian team that won the Davis Cup in 1999 and again in 2003, and he played in the competition for many years.

When did Lleyton Hewitt retire from tennis?

He played his last tournament at the Australian Open in 2016, losing in the second round to David Ferrer, after announcing it would be his final event.

What does Lleyton Hewitt do now?

He is the captain of the Australian Davis Cup team, working with young Australian players, and he was inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame in 2021.