After he’d beaten Gael Monfils at the Australian Open the other day, rising American star Ben Shelton walked over suspiciously for the on-court TV interview.

Those have not been going well in Australia. Novak Djokovic began to boycott them after a reporter from Channel 9, the local rights holder, upset him.

If Shelton was worried about what he was in for with sideline reporter and former pro Roger Rasheed, he was right to be.

“First of all, on Gael, he’s an entertainer. What does he mean to you? He’s almost your dad,” said Rasheed.

Shelton, who is mixed race, popped his eyebrows and said, “Was that a Black joke?”

“I’m not sure,” said Rasheed, chuckling in a way that suggested he was not getting how badly this was going. “Let’s not go there.”

After his next match, a different Channel 9 interviewer suggested to Shelton that whoever he played next – world No. 1 Jannik Sinner or Australia’s Alex de Minaur – no one in the crowd would be rooting for him.

That was it for Shelton. In the press room interview later, he reserved a few moments at the end to lash the quality of on-court questioning at the major. He called it “embarrassing” and “disrespectful.”

“There’s been a lot of negativity and I think that’s something that needs to change,” Shelton said.

It’s hard to feel sorry for millionaire entertainers who don’t like the grubbier parts of entertaining, but you felt for Shelton here. If some guy I didn’t know started making paternity jokes at me – especially since Shelton’s actual dad was standing right there – I would not be best pleased.

If this is a structural problem – and it is, because a famous pro just said so – then it’s a self-inflicted wound.

At some point along the line, TV sports broadcasters decided that people didn’t want journalists covering the games. Too honest; often downers; potentially dangerous.

What they got instead were cheerleaders who give the outward appearance of being journalists. That’s why they’re still wearing ties and power dresses. Apparently, none of these people has been in a real newsroom since All the President’s Men.

Eventually, even pseudo-journalists weren’t enough. The cheerleaders gave way to former pros.

Most outlets include a journalist-like guardian ad litem amongst the jocks to maintain order. It works better in some milieus than others.

Ron McLean is able to wrangle his former hockey players, because hockey players at whatever age and stage are unlikely to say anything inflammatory (or interesting).

Then there’s football. Perhaps you too are familiar with the look of despair on Curt Menefee’s face whenever Terry Bradshaw gets rolling on the Fox NFL panel. It’s the look that says, ‘I can only do so much.’

Few sports have blurred the barrier between players and the TV people who cover them more than tennis. For years now, Nadal has not played Djokovic. Instead, Rafa has played Novak – or, if the guy calling it is feeling really frisky, it’s Rafa vs. Nole. The intimacy of these calls sometimes verges on carnal.

The interviews are often worse. Fawning is not a strong enough word. You can feel how badly the people asking the questions want to be seen as peers, even friends, of the people answering them.

The Australian Open is at the extreme end of this trend. If the interviewer and interviewee are friends and equals, it follows that they can joke around with each other. If they can joke around, especially in a macho sporting context, then it’s occasionally going to go a little too far. And if it can go a little too far, then that becomes the default tone.

This is how you get a Channel 9 interviewer opening his chat with American teenager Learner Tien, who had just beaten Daniil Medvedev for the biggest victory in his young career with, “Nineteen-year-old’s are not meant to be that good.”

It’s not insulting if this guy is your pal. It might even work if it was buried deeper in the interview. But it’s easy to see how a stranger starting with it is irritating.

None of these broadcasters think they are the stars, but they can reasonably think they are some sort of star. Why else would they have jobs?

The last 10 years have taught them they are one cheeky line from virality. So why play it straight? Why not go for laughs? Who knows? Maybe they’ll become famous famous?

The players don’t see it the same way. From their perspective, this isn’t two colleagues interacting. It’s an employer-employee relationship. You work for the show, and I am the show.

The only surprising thing about Shelton’s outburst is that it happened out in public. It’s happening in private all the time.

Some reporter – almost always a TV reporter – gets too familiar, and the players don’t like it and complain. Worse, someone hired to cheerlead starts acting like a real journalist. That’s a quick ticket to a new assignment.

The correct balance isn’t hard to figure out – obsequious in person, free fire everywhere else.

That’s why the NBA loves Charles Barkley ripping players in the studio, but doesn’t want him doing one-on-one interviews.

If Australian TV needs a guide, they might look to the old newspaper model. Back when Sports sections were flush, good beats had a slapper and a tickler. The slapper (usually a columnist) beat the team up. The tickler (usually the beat writer) said nice things, and got the scoops as a reward. That is how balance was maintained.

Nowadays, TV has the players to guide them. They’ll tell you who can and can’t say what, and to whom, and when, and where, so that the important work of ‘journalism’ may continue.