The rise of the unexpected
Arthur Fery, a stocky British player with a boyish look and a talent for making the impossible seem probable, made his mark this year. Before now, he had never qualified for an ATP 1000 event, and in 2023, he hadn't even managed to win a grand slam match. But at Wimbledon, Fery defied the odds. He became the lowest-ranked man to reach a grand slam semi-final since 1988. His journey ended at the hands of Alexander Zverev, but the story was already unforgettable. What Fery achieved in those few weeks was more than a string of wins — it was a narrative that tugged at the heart of what it means to be an underdog.
Fery wasn't the only one to surprise everyone. Maja Chwalinska, the Polish qualifier, also ranked 114th, made an equally stunning rise during the French Open. She didn’t just make it to the later stages — she beat Diana Shnaider in the semis and reached the final, becoming just the second qualifier in Open Era history to do so. The first was Patrick McEnroe, who in 1991 at the Australian Open, as a 114th-ranked player, broke new ground. Like Fery, he had also played college tennis for Stanford. The parallels are uncanny, the symmetry oddly poetic.
The magic of the small nation
While Fery and Chwalinska took the courts, the nation of Cape Verde made headlines in a different way. With a population of just 530,000, it's a small nation, but in the men’s World Cup, they did the unthinkable: they made it to the last 32. Ranked 69th in the world, Cape Verde’s rise was staggering. Their opening draw against Spain might have seemed lucky, but their victory over Argentina told a different story. Sidny Lopes Cabral scored with a goal that flew into the top corner, and Vozinha, their goalkeeper, performed the kind of magic every weekend dad dreams of when asked to stand in net against a professional.
There was something deeply human in the Cape Verde story. Gary Neville, watching in awe, asked where Vozinha had been. But the real question is part of what makes the underdog so compelling. Pico Lopes, one of Cape Verde’s defenders, got his chance in the most improbable way — through a LinkedIn message from the national football association. He initially thought it was spam and ignored it. But his story is a reminder of how small moments can change the course of a career and a nation.
The underdog in crisis mode
Of course, not every underdog story ends with a win. Chwalinska, after reaching the French Open semis, asked the crowd to pray for affordable hotel expenses, since the stay was longer than expected. Her match against Mirra Andreeva was briefly promising — she led 3-2 — but then the Russian teenager reeled off nine straight games to end Chwalinska's run. It was a cruel reminder of how quickly the underdog can be crushed by the weight of the moment.
Fery, too, had his defining moment in defeat. During a tight third set against Zverev, he leapt for a lob and missed entirely. In that instant, the underdog's vulnerability was laid bare. Even as he saved three break points in the same game, the reality of the gap between him and the world’s elite was impossible to ignore. The changeover that followed must have felt like a quiet prayer for a miracle, though it never came.
Still, these players endure. Chwalinska, once a struggling qualifier, started the tournament in mismatched outfits, until a sponsorship deal with XTB changed her fortunes. Fery, despite appearing nearly a head shorter than Zverev at the net, has a Stanford pedigree and a story to tell. These are not the reasons they win — they are just reminders that success, in this world, is never guaranteed. But the magic remains in the possibility, in the chance to believe for a little while that the impossible is just waiting to be done.
The appeal of the underdog isn’t in their wins alone — it’s in the struggle. It’s in the way their stories force us to ask, quietly, where we might be if we had taken the same chances, had the same luck. For a few days, these athletes offer a glimpse into a world where the impossible is not just possible, but already happening. In that moment, it's not just their success we're watching — it's the chance to imagine our own.