Indian Wells, 08/03/2025.
Djokovic lost in three sets to Botic Van de Zandschulp, displaying tennis that was at times well below any of his previous levels. There is nothing strange, nothing wrong with Novak Djokovic, at 38 years old, struggling to maintain consistency at the highest level. No one would blame him for that, and no one does.
The point is that he is the one who does not accept it: not accepting it is the reason why, despite being slightly inferior to the other two Big Three in terms of pure talent, he has managed to keep up with the changes in the game. Thanks to his willpower and incredible dedication, he has even achieved a greater number of victories.
What is there not to like about this attitude? After all, the whole Rocky saga—the most beloved fictional sports character worldwide—is precisely the story of someone who starts off with little talent, contemplates retirement, and fights against this reality with everything he has. He goes on for decades (unrealistically so) enduring blows and staying on his feet in the ring. In one sentence: “But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.” [Rocky Balboa].
So why is Djokovic “blamed” for this in the end, while Rocky is adored? The fundamental reason is that Rocky is humble and accepts his limits: “I can’t beat him. I been out there walkin’ around, thinkin’. I mean, who am I kiddin’? I ain’t even in the guy’s league.” [Rocky]. Rocky thinks and acts like an underdog who, for some reason (his heart?), manages to win. Whereas Novak acts as if he is the strongest, but for some reason (bad luck, his Serbian origins, the establishment) ends up losing.
This is evident both on and off the court. How can it be summed up without being too long-winded? Let’s try:
Djokovic has always had a complicated relationship with the public and institutions, not only because of his playing style or competitive nature but also due to a series of episodes that have contributed to shaping his ambiguous image. Accusations of hypocrisy have followed him more than once: in 2013, he criticised Nadal for an unsporting gesture, yet just two years later, he did the same to Federer without ever apologising. When Andy Murray confronted him directly about his attitude, Djokovic reacted with irritation, refusing to be judged, without considering that, in tennis as in any sport, the real judge is always the paying public.
His relationship with the crowd is perhaps the most controversial aspect of all. Unlike Federer and Nadal, who have always nurtured a strong rapport with spectators, Djokovic has developed a strange habit of provoking them, almost as if challenging their disapproval. More than once, he has gestured defiantly or celebrated with expressions of challenge, a behaviour that, if translated to football, would earn a player a straight red card—a scene worthy of Any Given Sunday.
However, the real breaking point with public opinion came in 2020, at the height of the pandemic, when he organised the Adria Tour with no health protocols in place, causing a COVID outbreak that infected him, his wife, and several other players. And if that incident had already shaken the tennis world, just a few months later, at the US Open, he found himself at the centre of yet another controversy: he was disqualified after accidentally hitting a line judge with a ball. Rather than accepting the decision, he attempted to downplay the incident, telling the supervisor, “She won’t need to go to the hospital,“—a comment that seemed particularly tone-deaf given that he had previously made light of similar incidents. When asked what would have happened if he had hit someone, his response was dismissive: “You’re incredible, you always highlight these kinds of incidents… Sure, yes. It could have happened. But it could also have snowed in the O2 Arena.” (2016).
The year 2022 proved to be another turbulent one for his public image. He attempted to enter Australia without being vaccinated, trying to bypass the restrictions through a legal battle that ultimately resulted in his deportation, turning the case into a political confrontation. Yet, even upon his return to the Australian Open in 2023, controversy did not subside: his father was filmed posing with pro-Putin supporters, an image that spread worldwide. Djokovic defended him, calling it a misunderstanding, but the episode only fuelled further debate.
At Roland Garros, he once again made headlines, this time by writing on the camera: “Kosovo is the heart of Serbia. Stop the violence,” despite the strict ban on political messages at tournaments. And if his involvement in geopolitical issues has often raised eyebrows, his stance on economic matters has been equally controversial: in 2021, he opposed the construction of a lithium mine in Serbia, contributing to the cancellation of a €2.5 billion investment.
Taken individually, each of these incidents might seem like an isolated case, but together, they paint a broader picture: Djokovic appears trapped in a vicious cycle between his obsession with being recognised and his feeling of being constantly misunderstood.
And to think that, at the start of his career, he seemed eager to win over the public with humour and imitations of his fellow players, a lighthearted approach that, however, never secured him the same affection Federer and Nadal received naturally. That was the moment something broke: when he realised that victories alone were not enough to earn the love of the crowd, he became tougher, more withdrawn, more obsessed with gaining recognition.
Why didn’t the empathetic strategy work? Well, Djokovic is undoubtedly an intelligent and even witty person (when he is the one making the jokes), with a Levantine intelligence that has a certain shrewdness about it. But he is certainly not Rocky.
We forgive Rocky for every attempt, no matter how pathetic or ridiculous, to keep fighting (also because I don’t recall any quotes in the films where, in the event of defeat, the explanation is always: “I fought badly.“). We forgive Djokovic much less.
I won’t even comment on his reckless statements regarding the Sinner case—comments made to destabilise the current world number one when, given his age, it would have been wiser to admit, like Rocky: “I got 38. I mean, who am I kiddin’? I ain’t even in the guy’s league.“
I sincerely hope Nole can keep playing professionally until he is 57, but I hope he does so with a smile on his face—without trying to change the ATP and feeling like an underdog, like Rocky, if only for reasons of age. And above all, without his obsession: for once, Kyrgios (!) sums it up perfectly: “I just feel like he has a sick obsession, wanting to be liked. He just wants to be like Federer. He so badly wants to be liked that I just can’t stand him.“
Ah, almost forgot—huge congratulations to Botic, a true Rocky-style player.
All Djokovic photos by Luce Martini
Further Reading: Women and Other Monsters by Jess Zimmerman
“Power, ambition, and the struggle for acceptance—these themes are not exclusive to mythology, but deeply ingrained in sport as well. In Women and Other Monsters, Jess Zimmerman explores how society frames certain figures as heroes while casting others as villains, often based on arbitrary expectations rather than objective reality.”
“Novak Djokovic’s complex relationship with the public mirrors this dynamic. While some athletes are celebrated for their relentless pursuit of greatness, others are scrutinized for the very same qualities. His career has been a constant battle between his undeniable success and the need for validation, a contradiction that defines both his legacy and the way he is perceived. In the end, who gets to be the hero, and who becomes the ‘monster’? It’s a question as relevant in sport as it is in mythology.”
📚 For those interested in how narratives shape our perceptions of greatness and controversy, Women and Other Monsters is a fascinating read:
🔗 Women and Other Monsters on Goodreads
Or maybe a great movie…
