It is a guilty pleasure for some, but good luck trying to stop watching if you’re tuned in to one of his matches. There’s always something going on, and for a sport that has nowhere near the mainstream popularity in the United States that it used to, watchability is worth its weight in gold.

Kyrgios’ game in itself is electrifying. He has a smooth rocket of a serve and tactics that feature extravagant shot-making and quirky drop shots. You never know what’s coming next. In round three, he channeled rope-a-dope tactics (his words), fooling opponent Brandon Nakashima into thinking he was injured, before roaring back to life to take the match in five sets.

He’s 27, and Friday’s semi against Rafael Nadal will be the first time he has reached this late stage of a Grand Slam. But in many ways, he is a throwback to a time when the likes of John McEnroe and Jimmy Conners would rant and rave and use the crowd to their advantage.

For the past couple of decades, the men’s game has been built instead on the excellence of a trio of all-time greats. Roger Federer, Nadal and Novak Djokovic are generally considered fine sporting ambassadors, but for all their brilliance, even they can’t toy with the emotions of a crowd quite like Kyrgios.

You’d think that the genteel lawns and polite ways of Wimbledon might be an ill fit for him, but it’s not the case at all, certainly not this year. Kyrgios’ monster of a serve is even hotter on grass, and the historically upper-crust London crowds appreciate an entertainer more these days, reasoning — with some merit — that bad boys give greater value for your ticket price.

Kyrgios has always possessed immense talent. At 19, he beat Nadal at Wimbledon, but he has failed to live up to his early promise for far too long. He is currently situated at No. 40 in the rankings while playing a restricted schedule because he didn’t fancy spending too much time outside Australia.

As is always the case with such characters, everyone has something to say.

Tsitsipas describes him as having an “evil side” to his persona.

Fellow Australian and former Wimbledon champ Pat Cash did not hold back, either. “He’s brought tennis to the lowest level I can see as far as gamesmanship, cheating, manipulation, abuse, aggressive behavior to umpires, to linesmen,” Cash told the BBC. “Something has got to be done about it. It’s just an absolute circus. It’s gone to the absolute limit now.”

Kyrgios’ response? He’s “happy” that his success is making people mad — and he’ll carry on doing “what I want.”

He is the kind of player who forces strong opinions one way or another, a true love-him-or-hate-him kind of personality. You don’t have to watch him for more than a few minutes to make your mind up, choosing to cast him as a hugely entertaining anti-hero or a Machiavellian pantomime villain.

As ever, the truth likely falls somewhere in the middle, leaving us just knowing a couple of things. Kyrgios’ Wimbledon run is continuing on, maybe all the way to the end. 

As for whether he’s good for tennis or bad for it, the answer is — probably — both.