GoatNo1
Hall of Fame
– boos will hurt sensitive superstar
Serb is not the bane of men’s tennis, he is a generous and gracious man who has risen from adversity. Audiences at SW19 and beyond need to start appreciating a true colossus
Matthew SyedWednesday July 10 2024, 11.30pm BST, The Times
I’m often asked about the most memorable moment I’ve witnessed at Wimbledon. Roger Federer’s backhand at match point down against Rafael Nadal in the fourth-set tie-break in 2008, Goran Ivanisevic on his knees praying for the final point that would hand him victory, Steffi Graf coming back against Jana Novotna? All wonderful.
But perhaps I may also mention what happened after Andy Murray’s famous triumph in 2013 and, in particular, the post-match interview with Novak Djokovic, his opponent. Understandably the crowd had been against the Serb. When he won a point, there was something close to silence; when his opponent hit a winner, there was a roar of ecstasy. That can’t have been easy for a 26-year-old playing away from home.
And yet there wasn’t a hint of negativity or bitterness in Djokovic’s courtside interview, only a willingness to see the bigger picture of a nation celebrating its first male win for decades. “Congratulations to Andy,” he said. “You absolutely deserve this win. You played incredible tennis. Congratulations to his team. I know how much it means to them, and how much it means to you guys, and the whole country. It was a pleasure to be a part of this final.”
Djokovic, more than any other player, has to cope with spectators constantly seeking to discombobulate him
We often talk about the way sport teaches children how to win but there’s a more important lesson: it teaches us how to lose. Djokovic’s graciousness has been conspicuous pretty much since he arrived on the ATP Tour (if you doubt this, look at his magnanimity after defeat by Carlos Alcaraz last year or, indeed, any other loss over the past decade and a half). In this he is not alone, by the way: his two great rivals, Federer and Nadal, share this humane characteristic.
But something has always confused me about Djokovic. It is not just when he plays Murray at Wimbledon that the crowd is against him; it’s not just in SW19; indeed it’s not just in grand-slam events. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, he meets a striking and at times vindictive one-sidedness. I have seen this up close many times: the catcalling, the booing, the personal insults, the deliberate shouting out during the ball toss, you name it.
I should perhaps say that I strongly disagreed with Djokovic’s stance on vaccines (and said so at the time) but the antipathy predated any of this. It was there when he was the on-court joker, doing impressions of his fellow players, a young man desperate to be liked. It was there when he was world No3, world No2, world No1, and again now he has lost the top spot. Today it has become almost a rite of passage in all his matches, like swallows at the start of spring.
There has been much debate about whether spectators in his fourth-round match were shouting “boo” or “Rune” (the name of his Danish opponent, Holger Rune) but this misses the point. In pretty much every match Djokovic plays he suffers not just from a crowd on the side of his opponent but a minority who seek to throw him off his stride and who seem to be shown way more latitude than if they did this to someone else. If spectators sought to discombobulate Federer, fellow audience members would turn on them. As Djokovic put it on Monday: “I’ve been on the tour for more than 20 years, so trust me, I know all the tricks. I know how it works.”
Djokovic takes a break from a ruthlessly efficient practice session and shares a moment with his daughter, Tara
I know many readers think the nastiness towards Djokovic is eminently justified, that he is a terrible person, that he is the bane of men’s tennis. I’d merely point out that this singular champion rose from adversity (as a child, he lived through the bombing of Belgrade), trained diligently to rise to the top during the most formidable era in the history of men’s tennis, and has invariably treated practice partners, the press and support staff with respect and courtesy.
I have interviewed him many times, so perhaps have a perspective that reaches beyond the armchair critics who believe they can discern deep moral failings in someone they’ve never met. He is polite, curious, interested in the world, always punctual, never fails to answer questions and, on one occasion, when our chat overran by an hour in Monaco, jumped from the restaurant table and offered to organise a helicopter to take me to the airport and then put a piece of cake in a cardboard box so I could enjoy pudding on the way home. “I couldn’t let you miss this,” he said with a wink. I’m not saying he is perfect by any means but neither is Federer nor Nadal nor Serena Williams. Believe me.
Another moment that will always stay with me is the Wimbledon final against Federer in 2019: still the most pulsating day of sport (the 50-over cricket World Cup final between England and New Zealand was taking place at the same time). I’d say 99.9 per cent (or thereabouts) of the audience was against the Serb, perhaps even more so than during the 2013 final. Some say that Djokovic feeds off antipathy but this is nonsense. As with all human beings, he wants to be liked. Indeed it took him years to develop techniques to cope with social rejection — a point he’s made to me many times.
At 8-7 to Federer in the fifth set, the Swiss served two aces to bring up championship points at 40-15. The crowd rose to its feet, iPhones at the ready; even the press were writing the final lines. I doubt a single person believed Djokovic could come back — except Djokovic himself. If you ever get a moment, go to YouTube and watch back the sequence and you’ll see Djokovic preternaturally calm, like Gandalf on the Bridge of Khazad-dum: eyes focused, lips whispering to himself, that granite mind still daring to hope. The forehand winner he hit at 40-30 was so beautiful it should be framed and hung at the National Gallery.
I make no apology for admiring Djokovic, for believing he is the most impressive sportsman of my lifetime, for glimpsing in his resilience something of the greatness of our species. I’ve come to recognise that he will probably never be forgiven for gatecrashing the duopoly of Federer and Nadal, never tolerated for playing with such ruthless efficiency, never accepted for continuing to win at the age of 37, after operations that might have felled others.
But I do hope a critical mass of people will at least agree that the catcalling and personal insults should stop. He may not be your cup of tea but the journey from cramp-ridden pretender to tennis colossus has many of the ingredients Hollywood would recognise. From audiences, at SW19 and beyond, he surely deserves better.
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