From Coco Gauff to Jessica Pegula, Women Deliver What American Men Haven’t

For decades, American women’s tennis has carried the flag with pride, from Serena Williams’ golden era to Coco Gauff’s recent triumph at Roland Garros, blazing her own path on the clay of Paris. But on the men’s side, the story is starkly different. Since Andy Roddick’s 2003 US Open victory, no American man has lifted a Slam singles crown, a drought stretching over two decades. The hunger grows louder with each season, as the ATP stage waits for a rebirth. The question looms large: can the US men’s tennis summon its long-lost glory and rise again to the heights it once commanded?

When 17-year-old Michael Chang shocked the world at Roland Garros in 1989, it wasn’t just the tale of a fearless teenager toppling giants; it was a turning point in American tennis history. Chang’s triumph ended what was then considered a painful dry spell: nearly five years without a US man lifting a Grand Slam trophy. 

At the time, such a drought seemed almost unthinkable. Until then, never had there been more than four consecutive calendar years in the sport’s history when no American claimed one of the four prestigious crowns. Chang’s victory, improbable and electrifying, cracked the silence.

And with that single breakthrough, the floodgates opened. Chang’s win did more than spark headlines; it lit a fuse that ignited a golden age for American men’s tennis. Soon, the stage was crowded with champions like Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi, and Jim Courier. Collectively, this powerhouse generation rewrote history, amassing a jaw-dropping 27 Grand Slam titles in a 15-year stretch. 

Sampras alone collected 14, etching his name into immortality. From Chang’s bold Parisian moment in ’89 to Agassi’s farewell triumph at the 2003 Australian Open, American men ruled tennis with iron fists and charismatic flair.

Enter Andy Roddick, the brash young gun with a cannon serve who carried the nation’s hopes into a new era. At just 21, Roddick stormed to the 2003 US Open title, ending the season as year-end world No. 1. Many believed he was destined to continue the dynasty, his raw power and fearless swagger seemingly tailor-made for hard courts and fast grass. His trajectory appeared clear: more majors, more American glory. The torch had passed, and U.S. tennis looked secure.

But reality wrote a crueler script. Roddick’s peak coincided with the rise of three names that would dominate the sport unlike any before: Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, and Novak Djokovic. 

Though Roddick battled valiantly, even reaching four more Grand Slam finals, each time it was Federer who stood in his way, denying him again and again. The 2009 Wimbledon final, a five-set heartbreaker where Roddick fought until 16-14 in the fifth, became the symbol of his cruel fate: great enough to stand among legends, unlucky enough to face the greatest of all time. Roddick carved out a Hall of Fame career, but that elusive second Slam never came. And with his retirement, a drought began.

Two decades later, that drought has stretched into a staggering 22 years. Not since Roddick’s 2003 triumph has an American man lifted a major trophy. A nation that once dominated the sport has been left wandering, its once-proud tradition looking more like a distant memory. And while the men search for answers, the women have been carrying the torch with brilliance and consistency.

On the WTA side, America has never lacked firepower. Serena and Venus Williams defined two decades with their dominance, and the next generation has stepped seamlessly into their shoes. 

Coco Gauff electrified the sport with her Roland Garros triumph, carving her own legend as a teenager. Madison Keys seized the 2025 Australian Open crown. Jessica Pegula reached last year’s US Open final and continues to push toward history. Amanda Anisimova battled into the Wimbledon final this summer. 

And Emma Navarro, McCartney Kessler, Peyton Stearns, Danielle Collins, Sofia Kenin, and Ashlyn Krueger, and the list keeps going, have all carved their places among the elite. From college courts to center stage, American women have been writing victory after victory, with depth and dominance unseen anywhere else in the world.

In fact, each of the last four Grand Slam singles finals has featured an American woman, with Gauff and Keys capturing titles under the brightest lights. Right now, there are two Americans in the WTA top four, three in the top six, and four in the top nine. Navarro sits just outside at No. 11, Kessler surges at No. 34, and Taylor Townsend reigns as doubles world No. 1. It’s an embarrassment of riches, a dynasty in plain sight, and proof that the women’s game in America is thriving like never before.

Even at the ongoing US Open, their dominance is evident. Coco Gauff, already into the R16, prepares for a marquee clash with Naomi Osaka for a spot in the last eight. Jessica Pegula, runner-up to Aryna Sabalenka last year, charged past Ann Li in a ruthless 54-minute performance to secure her quarterfinal berth. And Taylor Townsend, the surprise package of the tournament, is marching with confidence as she eyes her own spot among the elite. For the women, the torch keeps burning brighter, year after year.

But what of the men? Here, the story is harsher, the narrative less kind. American hopes now rest squarely on Taylor Fritz, last year’s US Open finalist. Fritz has become the nation’s lone standard-bearer, the one man carrying the burden of history and expectation. 

He now faces Tomáš Macháč for a place in the last eight. All other American men have already fallen, leaving Fritz with the unenviable role of both hero and survivor. His run feels weightier than just one tournament; it feels symbolic. For in year 22 of this drought, the question lingers like a haunting refrain: Will this be the moment? Can Taylor Fritz summon the ghosts of Chang, Sampras, Agassi, Courier, and Roddick and finally end the long, aching silence?

The answer, as always, lies in the battles ahead. But for American tennis fans, the wait grows heavier with each passing Slam. And so, as the lights blaze at Flushing Meadows, the nation dares to dream once more. In year 22, will the drought finally break, or will the story of American men’s tennis remain a song of longing?