The relationship that Wimbledon crowds have with Novak Djokovic has always been on the spicy side. Drenched in the guise of tradition and seniority, the All England Club finds itself on a very specific level of traditional class that Djokovic appears on the borders of. They loved Roger Federer for his presentation but also his game, which supposedly felt luxurious to watch. Crushed-velvet tennis will always be treated well there. Rafael Nadal was perhaps harder to accept, a brutal Spanish workhorse that wore lengthy shorts and sweated profusely with the effort of it all. His cause was helped by Federer though, the 2008 Wimbledon final long held up as an example of a true sporting greatness, and Nadal, as the winner of that contest, has been warmly cherished ever since. That tied Nadal to Federer going forwards and over time, their relationship off the court has seen them bound in the eyes of tennis casuals. Nadal, seen as an irritating little brother of Federer, was permitted entry as a rare exception, and so Wimbledon opened their arms for him.
Djokovic, the third party in a room for two, has been forcefully positioned to one side as he rose to join them. It’s interesting because in a way, Djokovic fits with the aura of Wimbledon more than his two biggest rivals. Unshifting in his principles whether people agree with him or not, he is set in his ways, forever the same even under the eyes of the ticking clock. Wimbledon, desperately battling the retain the difficulties it’s always had, seems like the perfect setting for one so stubborn. This is seen in his results at the event, where he’s currently trying to win his record-equalling 8th title that would see him on par with Federer.
Watching Djokovic verbally chastise those in attendance following his win the other night, the resentment was clear. The crowd, in their displeasure at being called out, could only loudly murmur in response, a smattering of applause heard intermittently in a hapless attempt to placate the atmosphere that had turned sour. Keen to swat away any attempt at explanation from the interviewer, Djokovic made it clear he didn’t care and that he’d played under far worse conditions than anything concocted that evening beneath the roof of Centre Court. This was sports entertainment stuff, the kind of thing the WWE scripts to fully ignite a rivalry, and it felt important. Djokovic is very human but he’s also a character, built through a combination of his own actions and views of those that have covered him. Depicted as the long-suffering greatest beneath the gaze of the majority that would have preferred to see Nadal or Federer in his place, this was the first time that he’d very directly referenced his belief that he’d been disrespected on many occasions by fans of the sport.
Everyone – including Djokovic himself – knew that most in the crowd that night had been cheering simply for an opponent’s potential comeback that was never likely to come. They wanted more tennis out of a match that wasn’t going to give it to them. Were there a few Djokovic detractors in the stands? Sure, for there are many and they are loud. Enough to warrant this frustration? Not in isolation, no. Which is why it was fascinating that he brought up the past and how he knows how this all works. The Wimbledon 2019 final was on his mind, the crowd pining for a Federer victory that exists now only in the imaginations of those that have yet to fully move on. Wimbledon 2022 and the semifinals stages against a home player, Cameron Norrie beaten amidst jestering directed at Djokovic, Djokovic blowing a kiss at them following match point. Against Jannik Sinner in the 2023 semifinals and the crowd keen to see Sinner battle back, Djokovic responding with a sarcastic amateur-dramatics crying performance.
Embed from Getty ImagesThere’s a childish anxious nature to all of these moments that make them difficult to not at the very least appreciate on some level. Some ardently rile against it all though, disliking the disruption that Djokovic consistently provides. The entire thing is theatrical, Djokovic’s eyes taking on an intimidating quality. His tennis instantly adopts a more precise finery. Intensity raised, his grunts extend to match his winners, often struck out in harmony. The crowd, called upon to react, comes to meet him, and the result is frequently fiery perfection that drags loud opinions from even the most neutral of watchers. People talk when Djokovic plays and the volume is raised on all sides immediately on those notable occasions that Djokovic himself decides to join the discussion.
It’s OK to be bitter about stuff. Many believe Djokovic craves the love that the masses continue to offer up to Nadal and Federer but I don’t think that’s actually true. His past works in conjunction with his present to motivate him and he appears to have trained himself to know exactly how to recognise the moments that he needs to be pushed against. He loves to feel that he’s overcome something and when the thing itself doesn’t automatically present itself, he creates it, drawing on experiences from over the years to bring it all together in true delusional greatness. The majority like to see winners that have earned it through difficulty or be granted a miracle like magical Federer-like abilities to dismiss those they’re playing with a flick of the wrist. Djokovic, rough around the edges and unafraid of conflict, often just flattens opponents, but he actually provides more intriguing tennis when operating beneath hardship. Crowds know this and taunt him, desperate to see something other than a win that was always going to be won. Drawing reaction from Djokovic fires them up further, demonstrating to them that they might just have some sort of an impact on him, and Djokovic angles in opposition to them as well as his opponent. In doing so, he allows himself to picture himself an underdog, fighting against the numbers, even as he retains his overwhelming status as favourite. It eases pressure, freeing him. It’s a vicious cycle that produces excellence.
With Federer and Nadal shelved and Carlos Alcaraz and Jannik Sinner working their way in, Djokovic sees a familiar place wedged between two rivals that are friendly with each other. If Sinner and Alcaraz are the new Federer and Nadal, then Djokovic is still very much Djokovic. He says he wants to be treated respectfully but would that be to his ultimate benefit? His past leaves me unsure, for little lets me believe that we’ll ever see the man perform better on a tennis court than when people loudly want to see him walking off it a loser. In spite of his wins, his millions and his fans (for oh, he has his fans!), I find myself feeling for Djokovic. There’s an unhappiness in there, masked by smirks in the face of those that cheer wildly for his end. He might not fit your requirements but those are yours and yours alone. People call him villainous but if you see him as such, it’s – and I stand by this – an unearned label that he might well be in the process of unwillingly accepting.
In the end, Wimbledon keeps its roots buried deep in the classical but Djokovic, with his loud nature that refuses to shush and receives backchat from many, remains its most relevant superstar.
Popcorn Tennis 