Alexander Zverev said something unrelated to tennis while holding the US Open trophy above his head on the evening of September 13, 2026, under the lights of Arthur Ashe Stadium. He talked about his mom. He talked about sickness. He talked about a discussion that happened more than 20 years ago in a doctor’s office; if it had gone differently, it might have erased everything we witnessed that evening before it had a chance to start.
Zverev suffers from Type 1 diabetes. He was diagnosed at the age of four, which is so young that he doesn’t really remember life before blood sugar checks, insulin shots, or the silent machinery of managing a long-term autoimmune disease that his own body caused. His parents were informed by doctors that their son’s life and athletic opportunities would be severely restricted, straightforwardly and unambiguously. It’s the kind of statement that can completely deplete the oxygen in a room.
It was rejected by his mother. That’s the condensed version. In the longer version, she spent years getting up three times a night to check her son’s blood sugar levels and give him injections during the early hours of the day when most people were asleep. It’s the kind of commitment that seldom makes news but subtly influences everything that does. She and Zverev’s father established a routine based on a requirement that doesn’t compromise, doesn’t take time off, and doesn’t give a damn about winning the Grand Slam final on Sunday night.
Once you understand what’s going on during those changes, watching Zverev play has an almost surreal quality. Zverev picks up what appears to be a secondary phone—no SIM card, no cellular service—and checks a real-time blood sugar readout via Bluetooth from a Continuous Glucose Monitor affixed to his body while other players sip sports drinks and towel off. He’s not sending texts. He’s not browsing. While he’s trying to win a set, he’s checking to make sure his body isn’t stealthily heading in a dangerous direction.
When spectators saw the routine during the US Open final against Ben Shelton, they began to ask questions. It became a topic of conversation, which seems strangely appropriate. Zverev has never concealed his illness, but he has also never made it the focal point of who he is. He controls it, makes necessary adjustments, and then returns to the field to hit winners later on. For what it’s worth, Shelton put a lot of pressure on him, winning the third set and briefly convincing the audience. In the fourth, Zverev steadied himself and won 6-2. The body clung. Usually, it does.
He won Roland Garros earlier this year. After Boris Becker, he was the only other German to win two Grand Slam singles titles in one season. On its own, this historical footnote would have significance. However, the statistic seems heavier, more nuanced, and somehow more earned when one is aware of the daily struggles his body faces.
It’s difficult not to imagine what those early doctor’s visits must have been like for his parents, especially his mother Irina, who later described the nightly routine in detail in an interview. Three awakenings. Three verifications. The silent punishment meted out by parents who refused to treat their child like a ceiling. The trophy in Zverev’s hands can be attributed to that refusal, which persisted over many years, just as much as any forehand he ever made.
Zverev reiterated his mother’s alleged statement, “My son will be wherever he wants to be,” during his on-court remarks after leaving the initial diagnosis appointment. We will not be defined by this illness. It’s hard to argue with a 29-year-old woman standing in New York with a Grand Slam title in each hand from the two biggest clay and hard court events on the calendar.
Diabetes type 1 cannot be cured or outgrown. A person’s body and the life they wish to lead are constantly at odds. With five-set matches, back-to-back tournament weeks, travel, altitude, and heat, Zverev leads one of the most physically taxing lives imaginable. Under those circumstances, controlling glucose necessitates a level of daily attention that most people will never be able to comprehend. The CGM on his arm and the phone on the bench provide a small window into the true costs of running at this level, though it’s still unclear how much more complicated his preparation is than that of his peers.
With his father’s presence, his mother’s obstinacy, and his own evident talent, he has created something that defies simple explanation. Despite his illness, he is not playing. He appears to be skilled enough to win the biggest competitions in the sport by playing with, around, and through it. That is the detail worth keeping in mind, possibly more so than any score.
FAQs
1. What illness does Alexander Zverev have?
He has Type 1 diabetes, diagnosed when he was four years old.
2. How does Zverev monitor his blood sugar during matches?
A Bluetooth-connected phone displays live readings from his Continuous Glucose Monitor.
3. What did doctors say about Zverev’s sporting future after diagnosis?
They told his family sport would be severely limited for him.
4. Has Zverev won multiple Grand Slams despite his condition?
Yes — Roland Garros and the US Open both in 2026.
5. Who helped Zverev believe diabetes wouldn’t end his career?
His mother refused the doctors’ verdict and raised him without limits.