Away from Melbourne, I’ve developed strange feelings about Novak Djokovic

2 weeks ago 8

New York: I never really warmed to Novak Djokovic. He was the Achilles heel to my beloved Roger Federer, culminating in that 2019 Wimbledon final. For years, he rocked up to Melbourne Park and made the entire tournament predictable. When he was astonishingly, and probably unfairly, barred from Australia in 2022, at least it meant someone else had a go (a man by the name of Rafael Nadal, it transpired).

But as I watched Djokovic emerge at Arthur Ashe Stadium to an enthusiastic roar from the New York crowd, I felt a strange sensation come over me. I shared their zeal. I was caught up in the legend. I wanted him to win.

Novak Djokovic became the oldest person to reach the quarter-finals of all four grand slams in a single season.

The Djokovic of 2025 is not the unassailable freak of the sport that secured 10 Australian Open wins amid a record 24 grand slam titles. He is, of course, still freakishly good – good enough to make the semi-finals of each major so far this year, a year in which he celebrated his 38th birthday. But from those unparalleled heights, he is now coming down the other side of the mountain.

A two-week grand slam is gruelling enough without trying to outlast a 22-year-old in Carlos Alcaraz or a 24-year-old in Jannik Sinner. Djokovic has acknowledged the task may be too great for his older body.

But on Sunday night (Monday AEST) he looked every inch a 20-something as he wore down an older opponent – German qualifier Jan-Lennard Struff, who is in fact three years Djokovic’s junior.

Grand slam success has generally eluded Struff – he has never made it past a fourth round – but he is no slouch; he beat Danish 11th seed Holger Rune in the second round and upset home favourite Frances Tiafoe to set up the clash with Djokovic.

Djokovic made light work of Jan-Lennard Struff, who at 35 is three years the Serb’s junior.

Still, he never looked like getting one over the Serb, who dispatched Struff in straight sets in an hour and 49 minutes.

There is something about being in the presence of true greatness that never gets old; indeed, it only grows more intense as the great one’s time goes on. Yes, their powers may have peaked, and yes, their star may be fading, but there is always the possibility of one last hurrah, one final flourish – and what a thing to behold that would be.

Djokovic, you can tell, still believes in that promise. He feels each point intensely and wears his emotion visibly; when he netted a regulation backhand while returning at 2-2, 0-15 in the second set – not a consequential point in the scheme of things – he threw his hands up and jerked his head back as though he had fumbled a set point, the frustration as palpable as ever.

And he still allows himself the little thrills, like a small bow to the crowd after a particularly exciting rally in the closing stages of the match that ended when the Serb – moving away from the net – flicked a volley behind his head and cross-court at an angle that proved impossible for the German to handle.

Djokovic now faces No.4 seed and the final American left in the men’s draw, Taylor Fritz, in the quarter-finals.

Djokovic has expressed reservations about night matches during his career, but asked in the post-match interview whether he was starting to enjoy them a little more, he said he had because, “I don’t know how many more I’m going to have”.

That’s as true for the tennis fan as it is for the player; each time Djokovic walks on to that glorious centre court, we don’t know whether it’s the last time we might see him there. A loss here, in the last grand slam of the year, could be the catalyst that sees the GOAT call time.

His quarter-final will be a real test: the No. 4 seed and only American left in the men’s draw, Taylor Fritz, who made the semi-finals at Wimbledon this year. Djokovic will not have the good end – as he did against Struff – of a vocal New York crowd.

Watching Djokovic may never inspire poetry; it may never be compared to a religious experience, as the late David Foster Wallace famously wrote of Federer. But in this most excellent twilight of his career he is giving us something just as good – the valiant pursuit of one last triumph. And that’s something even I can get behind.