Now Nill has come out in his defence before, saying that we should all remember what it was like to be 20, that none of us can understand what the pressure of the tennis circuit is like, how he's still maturing and learning how to express his feelings. Oh please. He's 20, not 12. He's a man, Nill. It's time he manned up and took some responsibility for his own actions.

Back in June Andrew Webster, chief sports writer from the Sydney Morning Herald, wrote a great column during Wimbledon about how it was getting harder to love Kyrgios. Basically, Webster said "He's a bit of a tool" and urged the young man to find just a "dollop of humility". He also said Kyrgios is "yet to break out of the bubble of family and friends who have told him from the time he could hold a racquet that he was special".

So here's my beef with Nill, and his father George too I suppose, but Nill seems to be the one that gets rolled out to console an irksome public: your son is not special, indeed he's no more special than my son, or any other son that finds some success in his chosen field.

I'm happy to say here that teaching my son humility, particularly when it comes to the sporting arena, is important to me. My son has some certain talents (but then I'm his mother and have I just blown my total argument in this paragraph?) but I never, ever want him to be that twat. To be that kid who the others don't like, don't respect, don't want to catch up with after the match.

There is nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all, with smashing an opposition, with being a little cocky and arrogant and a little aggressive. That's all part of it. Mind games are mind games too and they have their part to play. (That's why I talk so much on the hockey field. My legs may be slow but my mind is sharp and I will do whatever I can to get an advantage.) But you should never be a dick about it. And Kyrgios is a dick.

Teaching your child humility, teaching them how to be good winners and good losers, teaching them that they are ordinary like everyone else, is something that every parent should do. We need to stop telling our children that they are special, that they can have it all, that they are destined for greatness. Because, let's face it, that outcome only happens for the chosen few. And your kid probably won't be one of them. Neither will mine.

Don't get me wrong, we should teach our kids that if they work hard, apply themselves, strive, they can achieve all sorts of things. But they need to know not every kid will be a winner, not every kid will play professional tennis, not every kid will earn six figures and drive a Ferrari and have a supermodel girlfriend.

You've only got to watch The Great Australian Spelling Bee, something as far removed from professional tennis as you can get, but a show that has stung me a little, to see that too many parents are blowing smoke up their kids backside. Little Harrison spells professor wrong, he comes backstage, mum gives him a medal (and don't get me started on those "I ran in a race" ribbons they hand out at athletics carnivals) and tells him how wonderful he is and how proud she is and how he'll always be a winner in her eyes.

Why can't we just say, "Bugger mate, you stuffed up. Now let's go and get an icecream."

Because that's what life is like, sometimes, most times really, we stuff up and we need to move on.

And we need to recognise that and accept it and, most importantly, acknowledge it.

And Kyrgios seems incapable of doing any of that.

I'm glad he's not my son. And if he were, I would have kicked his backside several times by now and would have stopped making excuses for him.

Even after this latest incident she was at it again, tweeting "A sledge for a sledge...do your research before piping up like sheep! #moaners".

You're his mother, I get that, but stop mothering him.

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