Novak Djokovic was becoming the gentleman king of tennis. It didn’t last

Novak Djokovic addresses the crowd on Centre Court following victory against Holger Rune at Wimbledon. Photo / Getty Images

There were a few months last year when Novak Djokovic began to emerge as the sport’s surprise elder statesman.

It began at the French Open, when he finally surged ahead of Rafael Nadal to become the king of the Grand Slam men’s singles race. He regaled the crowd with the story of a small boy growing up in a small country in the Balkans with little in the way of tennis pedigree who dreamed of becoming a champion, and he told children everywhere to pursue their dreams, no matter how far-fetched they might seem.

He was gracious in defeat at Wimbledon a month later, tipping his hat to Carlos Alcaraz, his heir apparent. Then he won the US Open, where the New York crowds, who love greatness more than anything else, embraced him as they never had before, and he hit the inspirational notes of children and dreams once more.

Strange as it might have seemed, with Roger Federer retired and Nadal vanquished and injured beyond full repair, the sport’s cantankerous contrarian, who had never met a situation he could not turn into a me-against-the-world dynamic, had suddenly become its gentleman king.

Well, that did not last long.

Djokovic’s somewhat dormant authentic self erupted in full Monday night at Wimbledon. It had been rumbling for a while, his eyes turning angry when he took on Jannik Sinner twice in Italy in a hostile environment.

As the boos rained down from Sinner’s home-country faithful, Djokovic made like an orchestra conductor, trolling the Italians on his way to winning the ATP Tour Finals. There were similar moments in Melbourne, Australia, as he took on Aussie Alexei Popyrin, and through the spring, as underdogs punched holes in his invincibility. He would sometimes pick out rabble-rousers in the crowd and take them on directly.

But there was nothing quite like Monday night’s postmatch rebuke to a Centre Court crowd that had been razzing him with all those “Ruuuune” chants. They were for his opponent, Holger Rune of Denmark, but to Djokovic they sounded suspiciously like “boooo.” Federer never had to put up with this. When he was the king of Centre Court, the crowds loved nothing more than seeing him dance through opponents.

They never took the side of the underdog. They cheered for Federer even when he faced Andy Murray, the favourite son of British tennis, on Wimbledon’s most hallowed court. Djokovic demolished Rune, then ripped into the fans, who are supposed to be known for their decorum.

“To all the fans that have respect and have stayed here tonight: Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart. I appreciate it,” he said. “And to all those people who have chosen to disrespect the player — in this case, me — have a good night. Good night, good night. Very good night. Yep.”

Told that it was not disrespect, Djokovic said he refused to accept it.

“I’ve been on the tour for more than 20 years,” he said “I know all the tricks, I know how it works.”

There was more, even a bring-it-on moment.

“I played in much more hostile environments,” he said. “Trust me. You guys can’t touch me.”

An hour later, with a cooler head, Djokovic acknowledged that the passion of paying customers pays his salary, “and he’s mostly fine with it.”

“It’s actually one of the biggest reasons why we are here, why the tournament is so important historically and why we are globally recognised as tennis players, is because of the fans, because of the interest that they put into watching tennis matches, paying tickets, queuing to come,” he said. “I respect that. I try to acknowledge that.”

Love or hate Djokovic, and there are plenty of people on both sides of that particular fence, he is simply an armchair psychologist’s delight, who thrives on drama.

Last year at the Australian Open, he turned his match against Alex de Minaur, Australia’s current favourite son, whom he plays again on Wednesday (Thursday 1.45am NZ time) in the quarterfinals at Wimbledon, into a revenge match against a country that had detained and deported him the previous year over his refusal to be vaccinated for Covid-19. He blasted de Minaur, 6-2, 6-1, 6-2, then made plain what had motivated him.

At the French Open, he touched the third rail of Balkan politics, scrawling his view that Kosovo was the heart of Serbia, a debate that Muslims and Christians have been raging about for nearly 1,000 years.

“A drama-free Grand Slam, I don’t think it will happen for me,” Djokovic said after one of his matches. “I guess that drives me.”

At the US Open last year, it was not enough to smash Ben Shelton in front of a crowd of nearly 24,000 trying to will the new wonder boy of American tennis to a win in the semifinals. When it was over, Djokovic had to add a little spice to the moment by stealing Shelton’s “hang up the phone” victory gesture. That garnered an icy glare from Shelton at the postmatch handshake.

“I just love Ben’s celebration,” Djokovic said afterward with a devilish grin.

Perhaps everyone should have known, then, that something on the order of Monday night was in the offing, especially with Djokovic starting to edge closer to the final less than a month after having meniscus surgery.

Mark Philippoussis, the former pro from Australia and a Wimbledon finalist in 2003, said by now everyone should know giving Djokovic anything to be angry about is a terrible idea, not that he needs much to get angry.

“I think he wants to hear boos because it makes him play better,” Philippoussis said. “If I was playing him, I would just give him compliments at the change of ends.”

Knowing Djokovic, that would probably make him very angry.

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

Written by: Matthew Futterman / The Athletic

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