Novak Djokovic, of Serbia, reacts after inadvertently hitting a line judge with a ball after hitting it in reaction to losing a point against Pablo Carreno Busta, of Spain. Photo / AP
When we eventually pass judgement on his stellar career, will we really remember how unpopular Novak Djokovic has been or will we focus on his astonishing record as a tennis player?
Much has been made of his latest troubles, the casual, accidental attack on the throat of an official atthe US Open and the ensuing chaos surrounding his ejection from the tournament.
On the face of it, his wretched display has overshadowed the action in New York, relegating the long-awaited changing of the men's tennis guard to a back seat.
This potential upper echelon turnstile is probably a temporary event - as the world's best men's players found themselves surplus to requirements – and has only played a supporting role in the Djokovic drama.
For Djokovic, it's another smudge on his glittering career, a blot that could be seen coming as the 17 time Grand Slam champ has made a name for himself as a difficult, unlovable character who exudes 'poor me' from every pore.
He doesn't share the same love or respect of his great contemporaries, Nadal or Federer, a reality exposed in its naked state when Djokovic takes on either.
The crowd have difficulty supporting him during big dances against the darlings of centre court. There's no doubt he is a player of rare talent, but one who cannot hold nor play the heartstrings of the populace.
He is the current villain of world tennis. This is a role foisted on many a player throughout the game's history, as the game lends itself to revealing an athletes true nature through its exposed format.
The mental and physical torment is laid bare for all to see, as during each game, set and match the player has nowhere to hide, from the crowd, the opposition or themselves. Every last expression of frustration is magnified as the lone athlete battles himself and the enemy over the net.
Some players can successfully wrestle those demons into controllable allies, others release the monster, some by design, others by habit. Connors, McEnroe, Ivanisevic and Kyrgios, to name but a few, have played this antihero role in front of an eager audience, who take great pleasure in expressing outrage over the foibles of champions.
There is something hard wired into us that needs to drag greatness through the mud, as if to take solace in our own fallibility's projected on to men who fly high in their chosen exploits, essentially balancing our admiration of other worldly skills with the dark undercurrent of the human state.
But does this want for schadenfreude poison our long term view of a mans extraordinary success? More's the point, should it?
Successful sports people are intensely focused on the task at hand. That single minded drive often leaves sacrifices at the alter of success, sacrifices such as humility, compassion and empathy.
Should that stripping back of what makes us human cast a shadow over the storied success of athletes? How big is the asterisk of selfishness in the quest for dominance?
The 'buts' of moral fibre questioning will always be there and in some cases they swallow the mighty achievements of the individual. Whether this reality is fair or not is a moot point, it simply is.
As much as we want our sporting heroes to be a bastion of human good, it's not always the case. We are flawed, we are damaged. Perfection across all facets of our lives is an impossible target and to put that want on others is insanity.
Djokovic is hardly a prime example of the best we can be as people, but for the reason he is celebrated - his innate ability to hit a ball over a net - he has reached heights most of us can only dream of.
Are we willing to excuse who he is for what he has done?
I am, but it won't stop me shouting from the cheap seats, "he's behind you!" as his arch pantomime villainous self skulks across the stage.