The d’Joke that made me frown!

There was a time when he showed up on the court and made you smile with funny gestures imitating the top men and women players. Probably a performance that earned him the title – D’joker!

With a game seemingly made for seeing off the rest of the crowd, back then, like most others, ‘he also’ played the Slams, and helped complete most semi-final line-ups. It was a strange era when the real competitive duel in a Slam began in the finals. You wouldn’t have placed a quarter of a nickel on him against the big two. And so for long, he remained a favorite for the masses as an entertainer, without too many attributes of a gladiator.

Until the year-end of 2010 when the realization of a Davis Cup for his country marked his paradigm renaissance.

It awakened a long unseen warrior within this benign clown. The tremendous self-belief that the man acquired overnight changed his game drastically. He no longer was just a participant. The intent to only emerge a victor was evident. He tirelessly chased down balls, improved his serve, returned shot for shot, and enhanced his precision and timing. Mortal mental pressures and physical limits seemed non-existent for this fresh phase of an iron-will that notched up title after title. Like before, the splits continued, though this time they were not on our faces, but by the elasticity of this gymnast on the court.

Thence began the new era when the legends were made to look mortals, humbled on their favorite hunting grounds, and the crown forcefully taken from their head. Arguably the greatest Spanish clay-court legend was humiliated with 2 losses on clay. Even a rare French Open potential loss in 2011 was on the cards. But as I see it, destiny saved him when this explosion was detonated by Federer in the semi-final. Nor was Federer much at ease. Twice on the brink of reaching the finals in the US Open, on match point, the adventurous flashes of the Djoker’s nonchalance reversed the script.

This man was turning out to be a cold joke to the heroes and their sea of fans. He reminded me of Achilles in Troy. Indeed, he was turning out to be the Achilles’ heel of the two greats.

For 15 months, a period from Nov 2010 all the way till Jan 2012, he played like a man possessed. Here are some of his stats: just the year 2011 earned him 10 titles, including 3 Grand Slams, $12.6 million in prize money, the Number 1 ranking, and a win-loss ratio of 70-6. Even the 6 losses were at the fag-end of the year when fatigue caught up with the machine. He established himself, earning his share of followers who long missed victories betting on the underdog.

But after such a flawless script, there’s only one place to go from the highest point. Down. This year has been a case in contrast with just 3 titles with a lone Slam – the Australian Open ’12 title, to boast. The fizz has settled down. The borrowed crown restored back on the king’s head.

Yes I loathed him when he dispatched my idol Roger. I detested him when he beat Nadal at his own game. But now, he is close to my heart because he showed that tennis is not a game that you win on reputation. After all, it was his intervention that necessitated the reinvention of their games. A one-year dominant change we could afford to bear with, for it only helped revive some waning love for our heroes whose victories we were probably taking for granted. He was one bitter joke that helped us to once again savor the beauty of the game’s legends that we had long got accustomed to.

After a long time, there seems a bright encounter on the cards though the weather seems gloomy. Both Andy Murray and Djokovic seem capable of winning the US Open final today. Come tomorrow morning (IST), we will know if Djokovic shall pick another Slam or finally (ironic, isn’t it?) the ghost ghost (of Fred Perry) will be put to rest!

But a final message to you Djokovic,

‘I couldn’t put you there on top in the midst of all my greatest heroes. No never. Not even if you manage to recreate your magic once again and repeat your 2011 season for another decade (which I know is far-fetched). May be it’s just that I am too loyal to a Swiss delight and can’t forget that sleepless night last year when I stayed up awake till 4 in the morning to see a flashing d’Joke that made me frown.’