A victor worth celebrating

Moments after dispatching Andy Murray in the finals of the French Open on Sunday, Novak Djokovic, emulating Gustavo Kuerten, a much-admired champion at Roland Garros, drew a big heart on the terre battue — the red clay — with the edges of his racquet, and plonked himself at its centre, with his hands clasping his face in disbelief. He was perhaps stunned at the magnitude of his own accomplishment. This was his 12th grand slam title, leaving only Pete Sampras and Rafael Nadal (who have 14 each) and Roger Federer (who has 17) ahead of him. What’s more, by winning in Paris, Djokovic also became the first man since Rod Laver in 1969 to hold all four major titles simultaneously. But Djokovic’s celebration this time also showed an underlying appreciation for a crowd that had finally learned to love him; for years, he had yearned for precisely this kind of support, to be recognised not merely as a great champion, but also as a victor worth celebrating.

Almost throughout his career, even as he scaled the most insurmountable of heights, Djokovic, it appeared, always had something left to prove. That he is a uniquely brilliant player has been indisputable for some time. But it wasn’t as obvious to many fans that Djokovic was quite in the mould of Federer and Nadal, the two players who have defined the modern era, in that he was also a player worth not merely appreciating but also loving. At Roland Garros, over the last fortnight, though, these doubts finally seemed to dissipate. The overcast sky could scarcely contain the bolt of the most earnest support that Djokovic was now being bestowed with. The French crowd, often the hardest to please, was rapturous in backing the Serb — he was not merely being condescendingly approved, he was being feted with adoration.

It can, at times, be hard to understand why it has taken Djokovic this long to be truly admired. He’s, after all, been one of the top three players in the world since 2007, reaching the absolute summit just four years later, when he won three majors and ascended to the top of the rankings. In many ways, 2011 was the annus mirabilis of his career. The quality of his tennis routinely took the breath away, and there was little doubt that he belonged in a pantheon of the greatest of the sport’s players. But in replacing Federer and Nadal as the world’s pre-eminent tennis player he appeared to be touching several raw nerves.

Djokovic was also not helped by the fact that his style of tennis was somehow antithetical to what many considered as the right way to play the sport. Indeed, his strokes are not individually beautiful. His serve is, at its best, steady and efficient. His forehand can be fierce, but it can also appear loose on the occasion, with his right arm floating away from his body, and even his double-handed backhand, a stroke of peerless efficiency, lacks the elegant fluidity of the one-handers, or even, for that matter, the cool dash of, say, Bjorn Borg’s rather more caressed groundstrokes. At the net, Djokovic’s volleys are neat and crisp, but, once again, there isn’t any particular élan to them. But, in spite of all of this, to proclaim Djokovic’s game as anything but beautiful is incongruous. For the collective excellence of his play, when he scurries from one end of the baseline to another, when he stretches every muscle and every limb in his body to reach the ball, when he moves his opponent from side to side, and from the baseline to the net, when he hits every groundstroke with depth and precision, when he defends each point like his life depended on it, and when he converts this act of near-persistent defence into attack with a singular moment of brilliance, we witness not merely greatness but also something inimitably exquisite.

Astoundingly, Djokovic, at 29 now, appears to be getting better with every tournament, gaining in comfort on every surface. His closest challenger, Murray, also 29, a great player in his own regard, appears to have little answer to Djokovic’s all-round game at the biggest of stages. Federer and Nadal are both on the decline for different reasons, and Stanislas Wawrinka, while capable of the sublime, isn’t consistent enough. The new generation of players coming through, the 22-year-old Dominic Thiem, the 21-year-old Nick Kyrgios, and the 19-year-old Alexander Zverev Jr represent a promising group, but they are some way away from challenging at the top. The questions therefore are these: how many more major titles can Djokovic win? And can he become the greatest tennis player of all time?

The quality of Djokovic’s tennis and the inability of his opponents to find ways to beat him suggest no limit to his achievements in the short run. He would likely enter each of the grand slams over the next two to three years as the favourite. This could well see him surpass Federer’s tally of 17 titles. But these are only numbers. Djokovic’s victories, till date, have come at a time when men’s tennis has been at its strongest. He’s been the world’s most dominating player in an era of unsurpassed excellence. We’re already perhaps not too far from a date when we can emphatically regard him as the greatest men’s tennis player of all time.

Suhrith Parthasarathy is a Chennai-based lawyer and writer; @suhrith

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