Novak Djokovic, I was wrong about you

I know he was never the fan favorite but as I watched him at Wimbledon, where he lost on Friday to Jannik Sinner in the semifinal, I couldn’t remember exactly what the knock was against Novak Djokovic.

Was it that he wasn’t as dashing and gallant as Roger Federer? Not as hunky and quirky as Rafael Nadal? Were we mad at Djokovic for beating the guys we’d become so attached to?

Was it that his homeland, Serbia, was less visited and much more complicated than Switzerland and Spain, lands of chocolate and sangria, not war and war crimes?

Yes, he has been hideous with a few umps. Yes, he refused to get vaccinated. Yes, a ball he hit in frustration struck a line judge and he fought to stay in the match. But I’ve thrown a fit or two in my day, and I grew up spending summers water-skiing, not racing to bomb shelters.

Some say he is a try hard. A striver. But what’s wrong with trying hard? Isn’t initiative, doggedness, grit exactly what we’re supposed to be imbuing in our children? Surely, at least in sport, it’s not unseemly to thirst for the top.

Especially when you reach it. While we were busy swooning over more compelling idols, Djokovic passed them both, grinding his way to a record 24 Grand Slam titles to Federer’s 20 and Nadal’s 22.

Still, we never really gave him his due. Maybe the problem all along was us.

Maybe now that he’s 38 and is fighting for every point against the next generation of talented players who will topple him soon and for good, he’s finally relatable. He’s entered the years where trying hard is a requirement. In his quarterfinal match, stretching to catch a fiery forehand, he slid and collapsed forward and lay there, prone, defeated. Momentarily. Then, finding two more bewildering serves, he closed the match.

Call me soft, but I like that during a post-match interview, he called his daughter “darling.” I like that he married the first girl he fell in love with and that his family affects him so openly. His whole face smiles when he looks over at his two children in his box, his voice cracks after a loss when he talks about disappointing his son.

I like that when he talks about war refugees, he cries. As a Serb, he has had visceral experiences well beyond slices, smashes and drop shots, and he has said that those memories from two wars have shaped him. He and his wife collaborate with UNICEF and the World Bank to provide early childhood education in Serbia. Does that sound like a jerk?

For my 25th wedding anniversary this spring, I got to see him play in person at the Madrid Open. He lost to a young, unseeded Italian. With grace. Congratulatory and warm, he hugged the victor at the net. It made me love him, worn and torn, imperfect but devoted, more. We’re watching a man who lives by the gifts of his body accept the fact that he will age out.

Someday soon he’ll leave center court for good, taking his game-changing service returns and gymnastic slides with him. Wouldn’t it be something to see his name — one more time — on the silver gilt cup alongside the words “The All England Lawn Tennis Club Single Handed Championship of the World”?

Fandom, particularly for athletes who take the stage alone, has an intimacy that goes beyond talent. We become enmeshed in their most important relationships as the camera cuts back and forth from our embattled player to their parents, spouses and children. When Djokovic’s beautiful son covers his eyes when his dad double faults, we are on the inside of their tender story. Or we believe we are, at least. We feel what we think they feel: love hurts. When his darling daughter leads the latest Djokovic family dance routine, we are reminded of life’s occasional sweetness.

Maybe it’s that the times have caught up with Djokovic. Now, we value the things he is — Angela Duckworth’s grit and Brené Brown’s vulnerability being two of the buzziest ideas to circulate in the past decade or two.

Or maybe it’s this: Even to players Djokovic will need to beat to get his coveted 25th major, he’s a generous mentor with knowing analysis. He outlines strategy, makes detailed observations and offers hard-earned insights to younger players. Ask Holger Rune or Jakub Mensik or Alexander Zverev. Who does that? People who remember how they got there.

He may have lost on the grass this week, but Novak Djokovic is a role model for us all. A lifetime learner who seems to relish his kids, contributes to the greater good, strives for continuous growth in both fitness and composure and remembers, when all seems lost, to take a deep breath and get back to work.

Kelly Corrigan is the host of the podcast “Kelly Corrigan Wonders.”

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