Dead chivalry: Long ago, my parents instilled in me the values of chivalry, not those of a knight but of a gentleman. Over the decades, I struggled to explain their old-school wisdom. Recently, however, the world of sports did it for me. In the second round of the French Open, the Italian ace Jannik Sinner, on a 30-match winning streak, was pitted against a little-known Argentine named Juan Manuel Cerundolo in a second-round match. All believed the match would be a mere formality, and indeed that’s the way it went, with Sinner leading 5-1 in the third set after handily capturing the first two. Then, suddenly, for no apparent reason, Sinner began to wobble. So precarious were his movements that the umpire granted him a lengthy medical timeout. But the heat-depleted man who returned to play had lost all strength and mobility, and the Argentine, smelling blood, reeled off 18 of the final 20 points to take the match. Enter my chivalry. Based on the values my parents taught me, it was up to Cerundolo to resign, conceding to a visibly disabled foe competing on pride alone. Though such a gentlemanly act might actually have been possible a century ago when tennis was still an amateur sport, it was out of the question in an era in which winning defines all human endeavor. Consider that in World War I, stricken aviators often saluted adversaries before beginning their death spiral. In the year 2026, I can have no quarrel with the 24-year-old Cerundolo, but I know precisely what I would have done, chivalry whispering its lessons into my ear.