The Cleveland Loss That Sparked Ethan Quinn's Surge

In the dim indoor arenas of last January’s ATP Challenger in Cleveland, Ethan Quinn faced a familiar sting for rising players: a first-round exit that threatened to unravel his early promise. He’d started the year strong, reaching a final as a qualifier in Canberra, only to miss the Australian Open main draw and then fall short against a gritty opponent. That moment hung heavy, the echo of unforced errors off the hard courts a reminder of how thin the margins can be in the grind of professional tennis.

“I lost in Cleveland and I wasn’t even in Dallas yet. So I could have definitely checked out a little bit. I could have been like, ‘Oh, woe is me’,” Quinn told ATPTour.com. “I could have been sticking around there in Cleveland and not doing the right things. And then I would have gotten to Dallas maybe and not been prepared to play Dallas and then lost.”

Quinn saw the match against Colton Smith for what it was—a solid effort edged out by a sharper foe on the day. Rather than dwell, he channeled the frustration into action, hitting the gym at dawn and then logging hours on court with coach Brian Garber. They zeroed in on his heavy topspin forehand, refining the trajectory to dip tighter over the net, and drilled 1–2 patterns to make his serve-volley combinations less predictable.

Discipline turns setback into springboard

Entering the ATP 500 in Dallas ranked No. 199 in the PIF ATP Rankings, Quinn could have let the skid define him. Instead, that Cleveland reflection propelled him through qualifiers and into a main-draw win, igniting a climb that landed him in the Top 100 by June. The indoor hard courts there, with their true bounce, rewarded his adjustments—crosscourt backhands now carving deeper angles, pulling opponents off the baseline into vulnerable positions.

Gabber, drawing from his days as a standout at the University of Georgia, kept the focus razor-sharp. He messaged Quinn each night before matches with a simple directive: become closer to the version of yourself you want tomorrow. This process-over-results mindset, forged in Cleveland’s aftermath, insulated them from the volatility of early breakthroughs, turning potential complacency into steady progress.

“It was just, after a loss like that, being able to find a way to still make sure I got better that week and then get to the next week improved,” Quinn said. “Rather than losing and then finding a excuse or a reason to be complacent. I think having that trust in my team and them holding me accountable to continue to get better, that was the difference from that moment on for the rest of the year.”

“I think managing success is harder than managing failure. He had an awesome start in Canberra, but after that Cleveland loss, I told him we weren’t going to change a single thing we were doing,” Garber said. “We changed our mentality to get away from [focusing on the] results. Our goal I text him every night before matches is, ‘Become closer to the version of EQ you want to be tomorrow’.”

That ethos echoed through the early months, where Quinn’s improved footwork let him redirect pace more effectively, turning defensive lobs into offensive opportunities. The Dallas breakthrough wasn’t isolated; it marked the start of a year where every practice session built on the last, his slice backhands now skimming lower to jam returns and disrupt rhythms.

Frustration builds resilience in the heat

By June, as Quinn stepped onto the grass at Mallorca, the initial surge gave way to a stubborn pattern: five straight second-round exits after qualifying and scraping first-round wins. The frustration simmered in smaller venues, where the crowd’s murmurs turned to sighs with each repeated loss to the same players, his inside-out forehands clipping the lines less cleanly under mounting pressure. He felt stuck, the weight of untapped potential pressing as heavily as the summer humidity.

Gabber saw it as growth pains, not regression. He pushed for clinical execution in openers—tighter serving to the body followed by down-the-line passes, conserving energy by avoiding giveaway sets in baseline grinds. This mirrored Quinn’s Challenger trajectory, where he’d clawed from early falls to finals through point-by-point battles; now, it scaled to ATP stakes, his returns stepping in bolder to neutralize second serves.

“I was really frustrated that I continued to lose, qualifying to an event and winning the first round and losing in the second round or losing to the same players multiple times throughout the year,” Quinn said. “I really had I’m not going to say a meltdown, but I was really frustrated that I felt like I was very stuck in the same spot, that I was continuing to lose in the same place.”

“He was getting mental about not getting past second rounds and one of the reasons was part of his growth,” Garber noted. “At the summer Masters he was winning really good matches first round and playing really good players next. I told him his next progression was being more clinical in early rounds, not giving away sets and wearing himself down. [It was about] competing truly point to point, so that when he got to the second round he had energy.”

“I also reminded him his path through Challengers and Futures was the same. It started with winning a round or two, falling. Next step he started winning those or finals. Nothing is changing now, it’s just happening at a higher level.”

Those adjustments sharpened his game across surfaces, but hard courts like Melbourne’s brought it all together—his underspin lobs now floating just over the net to buy time, heavy topspin drives pinning foes deep for easier volleys. The mental toll of those summers forged a quieter confidence, the kind that thrives in majors’ roar rather than wilting under it.

Melbourne victory flips the script

Fast-forward to January 21, 2026, and the Australian Open‘s opening round, where Ethan Quinn confronted 23rd seed Tallon Griekspoor, a player who’d claimed their first two head-to-heads last year. Under the bright Melbourne sun, Quinn dismantled the Dutchman 6-2, 6-3, 6-2, his returns deep and varied—low slices forcing weak backhands, crosscourt lasers exploiting movement gaps. The hard court’s pace amplified his 1–2 punch, wide serves opening the court for inside-in forehands that ended points decisively.

Griekspoor’s power met Quinn’s agility, the American turning defense into counters with quick footwork, his down-the-line backhands wrong-footing the seed in extended rallies. No sets dropped, no energy wasted; it was the efficiency Garber preached, applied against a top-25 foe whose prior wins had loomed large. The Rod Laver Arena crowd built with each break, their cheers syncing to Quinn’s rising pulse.

“To now be in this situation today, where it’s against a tough player, against a player that’s kind of had my number in the past,” Quinn said. “To be able to get through that match is really refreshing.”

Now, a second-round date with Hubert Hurkacz awaits, the Pole’s booming serve a stern test on these Plexicushion courts. Quinn’s path—from Cleveland’s quiet resolve to this stage—equips him to target body serves with aggressive returns, mixing slice and topspin to disrupt the big man’s rhythm. In a draw thick with pressure, his story pulses with the promise of deeper runs, one disciplined point at a time.