Is there anyone modern day who can step into these shoes? What made Hemingway was that he really was larger than life, he didn't act the part, he was the part. Craig Boddington?
There will never be another Hemmingway because there is no one studying and training their mind to be the next Hemmingway.
What does the modern author in the sporting world write about? Guns and the hunting that surrounds it. Elmer Keith? Ron Spomer? Michael McIntosh? Jack O'Connor? The next guy that is 10x better than them? It still doesn't make the cut.
Why?
Hemmingway wrote about the human condition, personal demons, pain, suffering, victim of circumstance, man vs himself, man vs man, melancholy, the meaningless of it all and then a stroke of divine providence upsetting that nihilism. Hemmingway then decided to set a stage for these thoughts and conflicts in a relatable setting: a war zone, a fishing boat, a safari camp, an ambulance, a rugged mountain.
If Hemmingway was alive today, because he is Hemmingway and he has to pick a backdrop that is relatable, he wouldn't write about any of the settings of the past, it would be set in a video game chat room, or a hospice, or in a meaningless forward operating base of an unending conflict, or on a tire floating from Cuba to Florida.
What he wouldn't do today would be to write something set in a foreign, unknowable, esoteric fringe the reader could not understand like a pheasant ditch in Nebraska, or a fishing honey-hole off the Dry Tortugas, or in a base camp within the Hindu Kush valley. The reader today would be unable to relate to any of these things today, nor would they understand symbolism that involved a double rifle, or a belt laden with shotgun shells, or the pain of infected thorn wounds on the legs having walked through jess bush for a month.
I could have written the entire post above and swapped out Hemmingway for Shakespeare to similar ends. Never mistake the subject of the story for the setting. Settings change. Even with Robert Ruark who is certainly the last "Great" of literature that wrote within the storytelling backdrop of hunting, his entire literary career was about relationships (his love for his grandfather and his bitterness for his spouse), his demons (booze), and a search for meaning (drunk at the Stork and 21 club in NYC, or at fly camp)
Fine prose and the latest writer for Gun's Digest don't go together. But what do I know, I dropped out of high school and might have missed the plot entirely.