At 38, Novak Djokovic is the last man standing from the Big Three of tennis, still looking to add to his record 24 major men's singles titles.Dan Istitene/Getty Images
As is the case near the end of any great creative era, tennis has reached its, ‘Regrets, I’ve had a few’ stage.
Roger Federer, Serena Williams and Rafael Nadal have left, causing a star power outage. In the second tier, a former newsmaker like Andy Murray is beginning to realize the lights won’t just dim forever. Eventually, someone turns them off.
“I don’t have plans to go,” Murray told the Guardian of this year’s Wimbledon, which begins Monday. “I don’t go to watch tennis as a fan.”
Then Murray listed off the reasons he would go -- if a British player makes the final, or if one of his kids asks to, or if there’s a match he thinks would be especially good (which I believe qualifies as fandom). In other words, if someone calls and asks him.
Most good-to-great athletes get to this stage at the end -- where the reserve attention has burnt off, and they find themselves bereft. It must be like losing your looks, but on a much grander scale.
They don’t have a common name for whatever follows the golden age, but tennis is in it. This gloaming will be most evident during this fortnight in the person of Novak Djokovic.
Djokovic wasn’t built to be merely very good. He’s too successful, as well as too odd for that.
The Serb hasn’t won a major in nearly two years. He captured a tournament in May, but faced no top competition along the way. At 38, and by his own uniquely high standard, he’s entered his jobbing pro phase.
On Thursday, he played Carlos Alcaraz in the traditional Centre Court practice match that precedes the tournament.
As defending champion, Alcaraz had his choice of opponents. That he picked Djokovic signalled the deference owed to the greats, but only as they decline.
Novak Djokovic (L) of Serbia and Carlos Alcaraz of Spain embrace during practice prior at All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club.Clive Brunskill/Getty Images
Afterward, Djokovic spoke about Alcaraz and his recent win at the French Open. That final -- a five-set comeback over Jannik Sinner -- is in the greatest-ever conversation.
Djokovic lost in the semis in Paris and said he’d avoided watching the final, though his wife wanted to. He’d gone to lunch instead. Since the tennis was still on when he finished, he caught the end.
“It was one of the most historic matches we have ever seen,” Djokovic said. The implication: what I’d give to have one more of those.
After that loss at the French, Djokovic gave off more of a funeral air than usual. He dragged his bags to the middle of the court and did a 360-degree salute to the crowd. He pulled his bags a little further and bent down to touch the clay.
“This could have been the last match ever I played here,” he said later. “I don’t know.”
Djokovic has always had a bonfire for the dramatic, but even for him this was a lot. Was he quiet quitting tennis? When it needed him most?
Now in London, he was having it both ways. This could be his “last dance,” he said. Then, in the same thought, that he would like to play “several more years.”
Keep ‘em guessing, I guess. It would be very like Djokovic to rush away just as people were thinking about planning his great send-off. He was the only divisive factor in the Big Three and -- let’s face it -- not that divisive. If a guy wants to believe he can fill water with vitamins by staring at it, who am I to tell him he’s wrong? That’s what the World Health Organization is for.
Djokovic’s mistake was being a little weird while flanked by two men who’d achieved different types of social perfection. No great athlete in history has ever paid more for it. Djokovic thinks that touching bread saps your strength.
Athletics is awash with talk about pressure, but no one ever admits to the sort of raw insecurity Djokovic projected -- the universal fear that people don’t like you.
That vulnerability was never more obvious than at Wimbledon, where Djokovic was second favourite no matter who he faced. He played a London final against Nick Kyrgios around the time Kyrgios was facing domestic abuse allegations, and the crowd preferred the Australian. No wonder Djokovic has had so many on- and off-court snits in SW19.
It may not be Djokovic’s final Wimbledon any more than it was his final French, but it will be interesting to see if the crowd finally gives him his propers.
It’s not like there’s anyone else to fete. Alcaraz and Sinner are too callow to ignite real passion yet. There’s a lot of great tennis out there, but there aren’t any great tennis players. Not by the standard that’s just been set, where you need a half-dozen major titles just to get dealt into the hand.
In that landscape, one person stands head, shoulders and a lot of torso above the rest.
So while there are a lot of storylines at this year’s Wimbledon, only one of them gives you the feels. Is this the year the Wimbledon crowd -- no cognoscenti is more cognizant of their cognizance -- gathers Djokovic in for a two-week hug?
One gets the strong impression that nothing could make him happier. Not even winning.
None of Djokovic’s contemporaries got to go out fully on their own terms.
Federer was bagelled for the first time in his final set at Wimbledon. Serena Williams was knocked off by an anonymous Australian in a U.S. Open designed for her to win. Nadal was annihilated by Djokovic at the Paris Olympics.
Only Djokovic can still leave on top. In a perfect world, he runs the final two majors and quits on the spot.
Over here in the real world, there’s another possibility for that fairy tale ending -- that the guy who always wanted to be liked finally gets to hear that his good enough is good enough.