Clone Wars
Clone Wars
In identical duds, Jack Draper vs. Holger Rune made for confusing viewing.
In identical duds, Jack Draper vs. Holger Rune made for confusing viewing.
By Ben RothenbergMarch 18, 2025

Double duds disaster at Indian Wells. // Getty

Double duds disaster at Indian Wells. // Getty
The thrilling women’s final Sunday at Indian Wells, in which 17-year-old Mirra Andreeva upset Aryna Sabalenka in a star-making thriller, was already going to be a tough act for the men to follow.
But when Jack Draper and Holger Rune walked onto the court next wearing the same blue-and-white Nike shirt and matching backwards white baseball caps, the deck was stacked even further against their match engaging audiences.
James Gray, a British tennis reporter at The i Paper who had been excited for Draper to have a breakthrough moment to propel him into national stardom, called the mirrored match “an incredible own goal.”
As pedants readily pointed out as complaints compiled, you could tell the two men apart with some concentrated focus: Draper was wearing darker shorts and red shoes; he also plays left-handed. But from the waist up, these two white guys in their early 20s looked identical and were indistinguishable at first glance from the high-mounted camera angle used to show rallies. It makes the match meaningfully tougher to follow without effort, and watching sports on television really shouldn’t require any effort on the viewer’s part. (The match, as it happened, was a 6–2, 6–2 rout for Draper in just 69 minutes.)
Showing up to a party wearing the same outfit as someone else is often seen as a mortifying mishap; in tennis, where a handful of apparel brands sponsor many of the top players, it’s often a contractual obligation to be on the biggest stage of your career in the same clothes as your adversary.
With Nike, Adidas, Asics, and Lacoste scooping up players in bulk, the odds of a coordinated clash are high.
The issue has been going on for decades. In her 2017 memoir Unstoppable, Maria Sharapova described the moment when she walked onto the court for her third round at Wimbledon in 2004 against Daniela Hantuchova, who was also sponsored by Nike:
“How’s this for motivation? When we met for the coin toss, I realized: Shit! We’re wearing the same dress! To my horror, Hantuchova and I were wearing the same Nike dress. It was not her fault, but I absolutely hated it, and I’d make sure it never happened again. How? When it came time to sign a new contract with Nike, they included a clause that said I will have an exclusive outfit at every tournament I play—no other girls can wear it, not if they’re sponsored by Nike. But the irritation I felt that night added a nice, useful edge to my game.”
17-year-old Sharapova won that match and then that entire Wimbledon tournament, and thus gained the clout to request bespoke, proprietary outfits from Nike from then on. Other top Nike stars like Serena Williams, Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, and Naomi Osaka have also gotten their own kits that stand out from the crowd.
But for the non-superstars in the cavalry who still want clothing contracts from top brands to supplement their incomes, being a matching mannequin is part of the deal. It can even happen to some highly ranked players. At the 2020 Australian Open, Dominic Thiem and Alexander Zverev were dressed in the same Adidas for a semifinal; they’d also both worn matching zebra shirts for a match four years earlier at the French Open.
Some players who could command clothing contracts choose to pick out their own clothes to avoid looking like the rest. After years in Adidas and Lacoste, Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova chose to start designing her own outfits this year. “It just feels like it’s mine, you know?” Pavlyuchenkova told me at the Australian Open this year. “And nobody else is wearing it.”
Fan favorite Hsieh Su-wei chooses to do her own shopping.
“I decide to buy my own clothes,” Hsieh told me earlier this year. “Because sometimes if you wear the same as other girl, people cannot recognize you.”

Who’s who in the 2017 Roland Garros final? // Getty

Who’s who in the 2017 Roland Garros final? // Getty
Hsieh’s doubles partner Jelena Ostapenko had the unusual distinction of playing a major final against a player in an identical outfit, when she wore a white-and-green Adidas outfit to beat Simona Halep in the same outfit in the 2017 French Open final.
“Maybe first rounds are fine, but in the final, you want to just be a little bit different from the others,” Ostapenko told me.
When I contacted her then sponsor before that 2017 final in Paris, Alexander Chan, head of product for Adidas, said that one of the goals for Adidas was to make clothing “that enhances their game yet allows them to focus wholly onto the current point and the task at hand.”
“Likewise, at this stage of the tournament—on the eve of one of the biggest matches of their life—we aren’t going to distract a player by asking them to change,” Chan added. “Plus, you can’t discount a certain element of superstition with a ‘lucky’ skirt or shirt that got them this far.”
Halep had switched to Nike by the next year, when she made it into another French Open final. She won that one despite some potentially triggering déjà vu: Her opponent Sloane Stephens was in the same teal Nike top as she was.
All these top apparel companies are fully capable of making multiple outfits per collection, or at the very least supplying every player with a distinct alternate outfit from a recent collection. But despite complaints from players, fans, and broadcasters, they haven’t done it; even when they do have multiple options, they aren’t mandating that opponents look distinct when they know a clash of clients is coming.
So if the clothing companies won’t intervene on their own, the solution is clear here: There ought to be a rule.
Conveniently, other racquet sports have already had look-alike laws on the books for years that tennis could directly copy, including methods for how to resolve which player is forced to change.
From the International Table Tennis Federation’s rule book:
Opposing players and pairs shall wear shirts that are of sufficiently different colours to enable them to be easily distinguished by spectators. Where opposing players or teams have a similar shirt and cannot agree which of them will change, the decision shall be made by the umpire by lot.
The Professional Squash Association’s rulebook makes clear that its similar rule denying doppelgangers is to make squash a better media product, and that failing to comply with that ambition has serious consequences.
“Both players shall be obliged to wear distinctly different coloured clothing. The higher seeded player will have first choice. This colour/style must be worn for the duration of the match. If a player has to change his/her top during a match he/she must make sure that they wear the same colour and style of shirt as they started the match. It is the responsibility of the players to comply with this rule. As the PSA is very serious about its media obligations, non-compliance of this rule will result in application of the PSA Code of Conduct.”
The various tennis governing bodies could each implement a similar rule with instant effect. Wimbledon, of course, already has its own rules mandating that players dress alike in white (which somehow is never as irksome as when matching outfits happen elsewhere). If Wimbledon can regulate regalia in the spirit of tradition and conformity, no reason the rest of tennis can’t do the opposite for even better reasons.


The Hopper
—CLAY Tennis on Beatriz Haddad Maia’s US Open run.
—Giri on Iga Swiatek’s loss to Jess Pegula.
—Jon Wertheim’s mailbag is full this week.
—Sara Errani and Andrea Vavasori have won the US Open mixed doubles.
—Tim Newcomb on Taylor Fritz and Asics.

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