Kosovo has a heavy Albanian majority; Djokovic’s comment was seen by many as pouring fuel on already smouldering ethnic tensions. Dozens of people were hurt as Serbian agitators tried to stop a newly-elected Albanian mayor from taking office. In another incident, dozens of Nato peacekeepers were hurt after Serbians attacked them with batons at a municipal office.
Serbian feelings had escalated when Kosovo police raided Serb-dominated areas. Serbia raised the combat readiness of its troops stationed near the border, warning it wouldn’t stand by if Serbs in Kosovo were attacked again – increasing fears of a renewal of the 1998-99 conflict in Kosovo that claimed more than 10,000 lives and left more than a million homeless.
Djokovic told Serbian newspaper Blic he felt a responsibility to speak out: “I am not a politician and I have no intention of getting into political debates. As a Serb, it hurts me a lot what is happening in Kosovo, our people who are expelled from the municipalities. The least I could do is this, I feel responsible as a public figure and the son of a man who was born in Kosovo, I feel the need to show support to all of Serbia.”
It’s more than a little disingenuous for Djokovic to say that he’s not a politician; it was a clearly political statement. However it may also be a sign this new Djokovic is not losing sleep over a lack of popularity not commensurate with someone poised to make tennis history.
In the past (and in this French Open), Djokovic has been seen to chafe at crowds who often barrack for whoever he is playing against. His frustration surfaced at times, along with a sense of injustice that he did not seem to be as universally loved as long-time rivals Roger Federer and Rafa Nadal.
He still turns on the charm sometimes, but maybe his new thick skin stems back to that bitter farce played out in Australia in 2022 when his determination not to be vaccinated against Covid-19 saw him deported and pilloried.
It’s also possible to surmise that Djokovic, now 36, is harnessing that new energy to carry him further into tennis folklore. His statement on Kosovo was effectively a showcasing of his country’s claims on an independent state; while it will have been joyously received in Serbia, it was less kindly viewed elsewhere.
But that seems to be the aim. He may be amping up the siege mentality – the “me against the world” schtick that a few leading sportspeople have used to advantage over the years. Like John McEnroe, the fiery, brattish polar opposite to Bjorn Borg’s calmness; McEnroe often needed a controversy to fire himself up and produce his best. Muhammad Ali deliberately stoked the fires of white America when he first burst on the scene. Rebel golfer Brooks Koepka seemed to have a handy dose of me-against-them when he won the recent PGA Championship, beating establishment golfers.
In New Zealand terms, Grant Batty, the diminutive winger of the 1970s, was often the smallest man on the field but played with his blood at boiling point. Sonny Bill Williams – though there is no way he ever did this deliberately – was a polarising figure in rugby who became a World Cup winner even though he had as many detractors as fans. Ian Foster’s All Blacks might adopt the “siege” tactic at this year’s World Cup.
Djokovic, as he grows older, may just be more sanguine about expressing his views on matters important to him. Maybe it matters less to him that dogs don’t cross the road. But the level and nature of his ability to raise hackles – human, not canine – and adhere to his beliefs may serve a double function.
It will be intriguing to see how Djokovic plays it if the fickle and demanding Roland Garros crowd plump for Alcaraz – or whether Djokovic will find a way to ride that wave of feeling against him, perhaps designed to help him win against the biggest threat to his reaching 23 major titles.
