In the absence of LGBT trailblazers such as Billie Jean King and Martina Navratilova in the women's game - and more recent openly gay players, such as Belgium's Alison Van Uytvanck - Vahaly looks to have his work cut out. Because the question is not whether there are more gay male players, but why there is still a taboo around homosexuality. The reality is that homosexuality in men's tennis will be most discussed this year in relation to Margaret Court, the 24-time grand-slam winner. Court, a Pentecostal minister, regularly denounces homosexuals, but the second-biggest arena at the Australian Open still bears her name, despite pleas from King and others to rebrand it. Former tennis player and current Pentecostal minister Margaret Court, who has been vocally homophobic. Credit:AAP According to the players themselves, men's tennis has never been more welcoming. Speaking to 25 players at the elite level, from world No.1 Novak Djokovic to doubles players further down the hierarchy, the majority insisted the locker room would support someone coming out.

Djokovic's view was typical: "I see that as a courageous move. I wouldn't have anything against that. It's everybody's right to have sexual orientation as they desire, any kind of direction in life they desire. I respect it." Roger Federer, Kevin Anderson, John Isner and Marin Cilic expressed similar sentiments. Neither would a gay player have to fear being commercially ostracised, which was a consideration for Vahaly. Quite the opposite - the indications are that many companies would celebrate the courage of someone coming out and rush to support them. "There's far greater understanding of the issues now, and there would likely be a great deal of interest from commercial backers," says Nigel Currie, a sports marketing consultant. Tennis also benefits from the absence of partisan crowds, which could reduce the fear players have in coming out. And yet, in spite of this supposedly hospitable climate, tennis' wait for a first openly gay active male player since the 1940s continues. Why?

Loading Justin Gimelstob, the former world No.63 who is defending himself against assault allegations in the US, offered an insight into the locker room culture 11 years ago. "The locker room couldn't be a more homophobic place," he said. "We're not gay-bashing. There's just a lot of normal hetero talk about pretty girls and working out and drinking beer." Vahaly endorses that view - he says he heard homophobic comments "all the time" in this period - and while there is little doubt that locker room attitudes have since become more progressive, there are isolated incidents that give pause for thought. Ukraine's Sergiy Stakhovsky said in 2017 that he would not encourage his daughter to play tennis because "on the WTA tour, almost every other player is a lesbian," while Pierre-Hugues Herbert, a three-time doubles grand-slam champion, believes it would be harder to come out than some outsiders realise. "I don't think it's going to be easy because there is so much homophobia," he suggests. There is also a more subtle lack of understanding from some players that helps to explain why a player might feel uncomfortable coming out. While Herbert and I spoke, his doubles partner Nicolas Mahut twice made jokes about the pair being a gay couple. Other doubles players, such as Colombia's Robert Farah, made similar jokes that were not necessarily homophobic in intent but seemed to come more from a place of ignorance. It was also curious to hear how many players said they would welcome a gay player, but only if they showed "respect". The former Wimbledon doubles champion, Marcelo Melo, for instance, said: "If they keep respect with the players, I'm not going to stop talking to someone who says they're gay. But he has to have respect a lot, this is the most important thing. I think you have problems when they don't respect each other."

Geography can also play a part in framing attitudes, with many players on tour coming from countries where homosexuality is largely abhorred. Herbert believes "it would be easier for someone from certain places but maybe not somewhere in Russia," while grand-slam doubles finalist Juan Sebastian Cabal says, of his native Colombia, "we're still a bit more conservative. If you go to towns and smaller cities, it's way more judged". Even players who hail from liberal countries inevitably live sheltered lives within the professional tennis bubble, away from the diverse realities of many of the cities they are playing in on tour. It is no surprise they make the odd comment that might make someone uncomfortable about revealing their true sexual identity. "Most players don't have a lot of exposure to LGBT people themselves, and so they don't know what they don't know," Vahaly says. "So much of what I learned about myself was after I came out." Changing attitudes within the locker room is one challenge; it is quite another to expect someone to embrace the role of advocate for gay players, and the maelstrom of publicity that would surely follow.

Loading Replay Replay video Play video Play video "I don't have an advocacy personality," Vahaly says, addressing his reluctance to come out and be defined as "the gay tennis player" while he was still active on tour, or in the years afterwards when he first entered into a same-sex relationship. Now he is a father, however, Vahaly feels a sense of responsibility to be open. "My life changed when I had two twin boys," he says. "But I respect and understand that a gay player now may say, 'Hey, this isn't my gig and I don't want to be that person'." There are good reasons to think this could also put that player at a disadvantage in their day job. Naomi Cavaday, the former British No.3, believes that the locker room can be a brutal place, where opponents will latch on to anything they think will make their opponent uncomfortable, and the notion that a player's honesty about their sexuality could be exploited by an opponent desperate to find an edge is not far-fetched. Indeed, according to Andy Lane, a sports psychologist at the Centre for Health and Human Performance, one of the most consistent traits in sportspeople is hiding any characteristic that could be seized upon as a point of differentiation. "Sport is all about protecting your inner self, and top athletes will withhold anything they think could be a potential weakness," Lane says.

The Austrian doubles specialist Alexander Peya agrees. "Sure, coming out makes you vulnerable to that sort of thing [criticism]. Anything that maybe could be explored as a weakness. Being gay is not a weakness, of course, but I think it's just the way sport works. It's man against man or team against team. If you're open to talk about something that worries you or is tricky in some moments, it's not always easy." If a gay male player is to break the mould in the sport in the next 10 to 20 years - as Vahaly hopes - then encouraging openness and acceptance will be paramount. The Association of Tennis Professionals has pledged to incorporate more discussion of LGBTQ issues as part of its welfare programme, as well as more knowledge sharing with the Women's Tour Association, but at the moment the main driver is coming from elsewhere. American tennis journalist Nick McCarvel has been at the forefront of promoting the inclusivity message, hosting an event with Vahaly ahead of the US Open to try to encourage understanding. After the success of the event, McCarvel will host another discussion prior to the Australian Open - this time with former basketball star and gay trailblazer Jason Collins. So, as 2019 begins, are we any closer to having an openly gay male player?

"Absolutely," Vahaly says. "It needs a person who is at the top of their game and consistently playing at the grand slams to say, 'Hey, this is me, take it or leave it'. But they must also recognise that the world and the sport supports them. It's just going to take the right person at the right time." The Telegraph, London