Racquet Theory: All Love, from Love-All

It’s Saturday night in the East Village. At McSorley’s Old Ale House, over pints half-forgotten in conversation, Evan Cole (CAS‘26) and Noah Young (CAS ‘26) eagerly recap their day at Tennis on the Block in Harlem to me. I saw the event as a promotion for the then-upcoming U.S. Open in the tournament’s home city; however, from Evan’s perspective, the block party simply brought the sport to the forefront in a neighborhood that “breathes tennis culture, today and always.”

The pair sit in time with their environment. Where I admired streets creatively transformed into courts, Evan and Noah noticed doubles lines finally put to use after ages in waiting. With attentive eyes, creative minds, and grip-calloused hands, they reveal tennis’ undoubted existence where others would have never thought to look.

Racquet Theory is the heart-and-mind child of this effort. As a tennis-focused, passion-driven media publication, Racquet Theory positions itself to replace “hot takes and hollow narratives” in tennis commentary with holistic appreciation. Tennis isn’t just a pastime to Racquet Theory’s founding duo—it’s an overlooked force in fashion, narrative art, and sport.

Racquet Theory publishes photography, video content, and essays that portray tennis through this holistic perspective. Rather than posting superficial court highlights, Racquet Theory specializes in social commentary with a personal touch. Runway photos showcase styles influenced by tennis whites, crowd film captures each individual’s experience watching a Naomi Osaka match, and player profiles deepen the stories of stars like Ben Shelton rather than analyzing the minute details of their superior technique.

The editorial only officially launched about two months ago, but Evan and Noah publish their work with the care and expertise of seasoned veterans who’ve made tennis analysis their livelihood. However, their urgency to create does not lead to hasty output. “This doesn’t thrive off of clicks or instant engagement,” Evan explained. “Quiet, patient contemplation from returning readers or curious newcomers, that’s what can transform Racquet Theory from a two-man collective into a community.”

Evan and Noah don’t provide all the answers—they don’t pretend to have them, either. “Tennis moves faster than people can handle sometimes,” Noah remarked. “We want people to take a step back and embrace the slow discovery that reveals tennis’ unexpected angles. The angles that have kept us coming back for more.” Rather than creating something to look at, the pair is imparting a lens to observe with.

Photo Credits: Racquet Theory

To accomplish this, Evan and Noah understand Racquet Theory needs to be something that people can experience, not just read online. By contributing to Tennis on the Block, the pair took a first step at realizing this interactive aspect of their vision. The event transformed 120th & Lexington into a tennis expo, with makeshift courts, mini-lessons, and all the photo ops a fan could ask for. Evan and Noah entered the event knowing they would provide press coverage, but had no concrete vision for how the day might go. By the event’s end, the pair had chatted, dined, photographed, laughed, and celebrated with New Yorkers for hours—and of course, they got in a hit or two. “No one rushed,” Evan remarked to me, fulfilled by the realization. “I didn’t see a single LinkedIn or hear a networking buzzword. Everyone connected by sharing, listening, and absorbing. People found tennis all around.” Person by person, in the shade of city streets, Racquet Theory found a home among those it hoped to uplift.

Although attendees heartened Evan and Noah with their engagement, other creators provided the most significant comfort to the pair. When creating Racquet Theory, Evan and Noah feared they would be alone in promoting a more personal, intentional slant for tennis viewership. Yet, as they cut each other off to tell me about the next documentarian, designer, blogger, or instructor they met in Harlem, I gathered that the

event put this worry to rest.

The duo encountered more creatives than they could expect, who were working on projects they couldn’t dream up. Conversations about tennis ball purses and video memoirs sparked thoughts of bolder, more surprising creations in Racquet Theory’s future. For now, the day’s observations seemed to sing a certain welcome to Evan and Noah into a burgeoning intersection of tennis and artistic creation.

As the duo brainstormed what’s next and relished in what’s now, I still had some questions about how Evan and Noah got here. I knew this pair as college students just a few weeks ago, and I struggled to wrap my head around the founders and creators they had clearly become. The friends I had once chatted problem sets away with into the night now filled their late hours with independent work; the duo had no deadlines but their own, and they always met them. What changed?

“Myself,” Noah answered, almost as if he’d already answered the question internally. “This is the product of me choosing myself, trusting myself, rooting for myself.”

Though the pair might be too humble to say it, Evan, Noah, and I sat with the unspoken trust that it’s only a matter of time before others start to root for them, too.

Want in? The ball’s in your court.

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Brendan Carroll is a washed senior in the SFS who now loves eight hours of sleep and brown noise for studying. He had no idea who Andy Murray was like five months ago.