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Though only 27 years old, Milos Raonic has reached the Rolling-Stones-at-60 stage of his tennis career.

Health issues often interrupt Raonic’s touring. He can’t figure out who belongs in his backup band. The old hits don’t land quite as hard any more. And now people are more interested in his opening act, Denis Shapovalov.

The Canadian pair met for the first time on the ATP Tour in Madrid on Thursday. It was an opportunity to assess the two best men’s singles players this country has ever produced on neutral ground (i.e. clay).

Only eight years separates the two men, but on close viewing, it felt like 30.

Shapovalov, 19, was an uncontainable bundle of energy. During breaks in play, he perched impatiently on the edge of his bench. His knee bounced up and down like he was shaking paint. His upper body twitched spasmodically. While not playing the game, you could see him replaying it frantically in his mind’s eye.

Raonic slumped into his seat and stared off morosely. He moved lethargically about the court and could not bend down far enough to pick balls off the dirt. The second set was delayed because he had to take a bathroom break.

The match ended 6-4, 6-4 for the younger man.

  • Canada's Denis Shapovalov serves during his third round match against Canada's Milos RaonicSERGIO PEREZ/Reuters

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A year ago – his first on tour – Shapovalov entered four clay-court tournaments and did not record a single victory. Now he’s two wins from the final at the precursor to the French Open. His learning curve is approaching verticality.

Raonic is finally back from two injury-blighted seasons, but not so you’d notice. He can still only cover as much court as the (considerable) width of his arms, while the sport is moving toward smaller, quicker men.

There was little drama in the match. Shapovalov ran around Raonic, while Raonic stood there dumbly watching him do it. At the end, the two embraced, but not warmly. No one enjoys killing their heroes, and heroes definitely do not enjoy being killed.

But that’s what happened in Madrid. This wasn’t a torch passing. This was Shapovalov yanking the torch away and braining Raonic with it before he left.

You could see that much on the face of Goran Ivanisevic.

Ostensibly, the Croatian is Raonic’s man. He is part of what is being called an “audition” process for the Canadian’s new coach.

Andy Murray’s former baggage handler, Jonas Bjorkman, got a look in for a bit. Ivanisevic, the man who applied oil to Marin Cilic’s creaky joints, is on board now. They follow other boldface names – John McEnroe, Carlos Moya, et al – who have tried and failed to turn Raonic into an elite athlete as opposed to an elite server.

In the sweet spot between Pete Sampras’s decline and Roger Federer’s rise, Ivanisevic won Wimbledon despite a one-dimensional style hampered by gangliness and frequent injury. As a coach, he turned Cilic from a human catapult into something resembling a fully formed tennis player. Cilic then won the U.S. Open.

Ivanisevic seems perfect for Raonic – another sedentary giant who can only win by pounding his opponents to rubble with service artillery. If his coaching can add some spring to Raonic’s step – literally and metaphorically – he might have something.

But if Ivanisevic is serious about wanting this job, he might want to stop, you know, attending matches.

Ivanisevic was always the sort of player incapable of masking his feelings. If he’d sworn in English the way he cursed in Croatian, he’d have been banned from Wimbledon for life.

That heedlessness was both the quality that propelled him forward and the one that often did him in. The tendency appears to have become worse with age.

The first time Shapovalov nailed a forehand underneath Raonic’s racquet at point-blank range, cameras caught Ivanisevic puffing out his cheeks in consternation, or admiration, or disdain. Perhaps all three.

After that, the broadcaster swung to Ivanisevic each time a) Shapovalov did something incredible or b) Raonic did something that made him look like the thing he really needs to add to his game is a mobility scooter.

Ivanisevic bugged out his eyes. He grimaced repeatedly. He waggled his head from side to side. Over 90 minutes, he went through the entire Marcel Marceau-approved warm-up routine for mime.

As it ended, Ivanisevic appeared to be openly cheering for the other guy. Not just clapping in a “well played“ sort of way, but cheering.

In order to hammer home the whole youthquake feel of the match, a group of Spanish children crowded in behind Shapovalov’s seat after the match and began screaming for him. Raonic wouldn’t have seen that. He was plodding off the court at about the same rate of speed he’d played.

“It was great to play a guy I’ve grown up watching my whole career, who’s always been dominating the sport in Canada and across the world,” Shapovalov said. “To get a win against him, it’s such a confidence booster for me.”

That’s what Raonic has been reduced to – a confidence booster for the 43rd-ranked player in the world and a nostalgia trip.

This is a player who once aspired to be included in the same grouping as Murray or Novak Djokovic. And he is, though not in the way he’d hoped. He’s another sportsman being unravelled by injury and time. But unlike those other two, Raonic doesn’t have the major trophies to remind himself he was once good.

Shapovalov surely meant to be respectful, but the effect was the opposite. He sounded like someone giving a speech at the retirement party for the person he just replaced.

Shapovalov plays another young comer, Kyle Edmund, in Friday’s quarter-final. If he makes it as far as the final hurdle, he will almost undoubtedly face Rafael Nadal.

Shapovalov is now very close to never having to use the term “confidence booster” again. Perhaps Raonic, if he ever gets the opportunity to, should start.

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