In July 2013, The New Yorker published a profile of Novak Djokovic, entitled,The Third Man, a cinematic reference that encapsulated Djokovic’s role as the proverbial third wheel in tennis’ two-man drama: the Roger Federer-Rafael Nadal rivalry. The Serb had spent the previous 2 years eclipsing those revered icons with a string of on-court achievements that included 5 grand slams titles and a stranglehold on the #1 ranking. Yet, tennis remained ambivalent about Djokovic. Given that his ascendency had come, as it surely had to, at the expense of the game’s two most popular players, the reluctance to welcome him into this hallowed milieu was understandable. Time and continued excellence was all that was needed, one assumed, to right this ship; respect from fans and pundits would surely follow. Seven years on, Djokovic is still World #1, while Federer and Nadal wrestle with the twilight of their careers. And he still is, unquestionably, tennis’ third man, trailing his rivals by a hair in the Grand Slam race, and by a wide margin in the court of public opinion. After being defaulted at the spectator-free 2020 U.S. Open last week, for inadvertently hitting a line judge with a carelessly flung tennis ball, the pundits piled on.
Djokovic had it coming, Rennae Stubbs, the ESPN announcer, intoned. He’d been smacking tennis balls in anger over the course of his career; his luck simply ran out. Patrick McEnroe was both glib and strident. The default was, no argument about it, the right decision. Later, announcers took to sharing the latest anti-Djokovic tweet from Nick Kyrgios, tennis’ authentic bad boy and tireless Djokovic troll, who was busy reveling in Novak's misfortune, all the way from Australia. (Kyrgios has presumably been forgiven for charming on-court tactics that include making salacious comments against an opponent’s girlfriend.) Billie Jean King tweeted her approval of the decision with an unequivocal, ‘the rule is the rule.’ The tennis historian, Richard Evans, writing on Tennis.com, offered headline-grabbing ‘credit’ to U.S. Open referee, Soeren Friemel, for defaulting Djokovic. When was the last time a sports official was given his own glowing headline? Try imagining the likelihood of that, were it Federer getting the boot from Wimbledon or Nadal from the French Open.
It’s an accepted truism that Novak Djokovic doesn’t garner the same level of public adulation that Federer and Nadal do, but the reason for that remains murky. To be sure, Djokovic has robbed both Nadal and Federer—and their tribal fan bases—of crucial chances to further burnish their legacies. It’s no fun playing spoiler, but Federer and Nadal have done plenty of spoiling of their own, mostly to the detriment of each others’ legendary careers, but also at the expense of a generation of young guns—yet, they've only been lionized for it. Objectively speaking, Djokovic has been a great and gracious champion, displaying none of the vulgarity that was Jimmy Connors’ trademark, or the petulance for which John McEnroe became famous. Djokovic’s youthful reputation as boastful winner pales in comparison to Federer’s self-congratulatory match assessments early in his career, as he breezed though major titles. Djokovic’s speeches in defeat, impressive English proficiency and all, have been easily more generous than Nadal’s. He has won matches with the entire stadium rooting against him, and earned the right to extend a middle finger to the crowd—but instead, has let his tennis do the talking by inevitably lifting the trophy. For all this admirable poise and self-control, Novak Djokovic has been inexplicably saddled with the reputation of a hothead, a man out of control.
“He’s benefitted from neither the fawning praise given Federer’s artistry nor the hard-won admiration accorded Nadal’s resilience. ”
Lukewarm media coverage has helped foster Djokovic’s outsider status. He’s benefitted from neither the fawning praise given Federer’s artistry nor the hard-won admiration accorded Nadal’s resilience. TV journalists, including players-turned announcers, like Patrick McEnroe and Chris Evert, have unabashedly declared their reverence for Federer on their social media platforms. Patrick McEnroe, by his own admission, won’t crown Djokovic the superior player until Djokovic equals Federer’s haul of 20 Grand Slam titles (Djokovic has 17)—never mind Roger's losing record against Novak, including 3 defeats in Wimbledon finals. One of the more jarring moments of the 2019 Wimbledon Final between Djokovic and Federer was the sight of Mary Jo Fernandez and Chris Evert, both ESPN employees, jubilantly standing and clapping in glee as Federer arrived at match point. Commentators are fans, too, but this unseemly public display of partisanship reflected a lack of professionalism startling to longtime tennis enthusiasts.
And now, we have the 2020 U.S. Open debacle—and its obvious comparison to the last notable tennis brouhaha: Serena Williams being docked a game in the 2nd set of the 2018 U.S. Open final, en route to a straight-sets loss to Naomi Osaka. While nowhere near as consequential as Djokovic’s elimination—Williams was coming back from maternity leave, and Osaka was winning the match handily even before the penalty—the application of the rules by umpire Carlos Ramos was greeted with immediate, righteous condemnation by both fans and commentators. No less a rule breaker than Billie Jean King accused Ramos of unfairly penalizing Williams. The sports journalist Sally Jenkins, riled to the point of irrationality, claimed in a Washington Post editorial that Ramos should have let Williams, clearly in a heightened emotional state, simply vent (and vent and vent). Jenkins bizarrely posited that Ramos recoiled at being called to task by a woman, and that he was, indeed, a 'thief,' who'd stolen the moment from Osaka, Williams, and us—entirely absolving Serena, the sport's elder stateswoman, of any responsibility in having come undone by her young opponent's sustained brilliance. Dubiously, Jenkins swatted aside Williams’ resume of unsportsmanlike conduct (which includes a violent threat against a lines judge) anointing her ‘one of the most courteous and generous champions in the game.’ To tennis aficionados long accustomed to Williams’ barely disguised contempt for being runner up, this was news. For all the outrage Carlos Ramos’ decision elicited in the heat of the moment, time and distance has rendered his judgment valid, if not praised—mainly because Williams herself, despite still feeling victimized by the decision, knows it wasn’t her finest hour. Her behavior since then has been exemplary, even in the face of crushing losses on the game's biggest stages. Jenkins, fittingly enough, authored a 2015 article about Djokovic for the Washington Post, following his comprehensive defeat of Federer in the just completed Wimbledon final. In it, she asked, “How great does Novak Djokovic have to be, to be fully appreciated?”
The answer had actually come weeks earlier at the 2015 French Open. There, still seeking the one major title that had eluded him, and despite finally beating his Roland Garros nemesis, Nadal, in the semis, he lost a heartbreaker of a final to Stan Warwinka. Standing on the podium, runner-up plate in hand and visibly shattered, he was given an extended full-throttle ovation from the French crowd, a display of genuine affection he’d never before experienced in victory. What Novak Djokovic had to do to be appreciated, it turns out, was to be less great. All he had to do was lose.
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