Give Djokovic a break – he was fighting for the disadvantaged
Hworld No1 did not deserve criticism for pointing out the two-tier system for players at the Australian Open
The easy option would have been for Novak Djokovic to say nothing. As a member of tennis’s aristocracy, he could simply have luxuriated in his Adelaide suite, enjoying a privileged quarantine regime beyond the reach of the rank-and-file at this year’s Australian Open, let alone the average returning citizen. He is allowed a balcony, an unlimited support retinue, full access to the hotel gym, plus five hours of on-court practice a day.
Contrast that with the unnamed player in 14 days’ incarceration in Melbourne, who found himself reprimanded by Victoria’s Corrections Commissioner – a job title befitting a police state, not an allegedly advanced democracy – for opening his door to announce that he had just ordered Ubereats for his fellow inmates.
Instead, Djokovic has called out this two-tier treatment of players as the absurdity it is. He wrote politely to tournament officials, asking if it would be possible for those in harsher lock-up conditions to be able to see their coaches, or to be moved out of hotels and into private houses. Judging by the reaction, he might as well have been ordering a vat of Veuve Clicquot on room service. Local TV characterised his requests as a “list of demands”, as if he were the ringleader of armed renegades holding the host government to ransom.
In any sane world, Djokovic would be credited simply for doing his job. As the men’s world No1, and as the head of a breakaway players’ union, he is a rarity among the tennis elite in that he is even prepared to highlight the predicament of struggling fellow professionals. But in the hair-trigger political climate of a country desperate to protect its negligible Covid infection rates, he finds himself cast as the villain once more.
For Daniel Andrews, the Victoria premier who for 112 days subjected Melburnians to the harshest lockdown outside China, the Serb’s remarks were the equivalent of a midcourt lob begging to be smashed for a
winner. He could have let Djokovic down gently, yet, realising there was electoral advantage in showing an iron fist above a velvet glove, he announced: “The answer is no. There’s no special treatment here.”
As such, 2021 for Djokovic begins with much the same feeling as his 2020, where his every public utterance seems to reinforce his place as a pariah.
There is a wearisome groupthink at the best of times in tennis, but never more so than around Djokovic, who in 12 months has gone from winning his 17th major title to being ridiculed as a feckless, Covid-denying, anti-vaxxer with a penchant for leathering shots at the throats of female line judges.
On occasion, though, the sense is
that he is persecuted merely for having an opinion. In contrast to Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, who rarely offer a view on anything not involving a fluffy, yellow ball, Djokovic is heedless about venturing into hostile territory. Sometimes, as when describing a fig tree in Melbourne’s Royal Botanic Gardens as his “friend” – the result of his long association with Spanish spiritual guru Pepe Imaz – he is on shaky ground. But when it comes to highlighting Australia’s vastly different isolation arrangements for Grand Slam winners versus regular pros, he is perfectly within his rights.
Frankly, the 2021 Australian Open should have an asterisk beside it forever more, so shredded
is its competitive integrity. Similar claims were made of last summer’s US Open, given the many withdrawals, but in New York, the bubble experience was at least the same for all entrants, with everybody from Djokovic to the lowliest, first-round opponent billeted at the same Long Island hotel. In Australia, the genuflection to the star names is so abject it has ruined any semblance of a level playing field.
This type of pandering to celebrities is long-established. In the 1970s, the Australian Open was the major most preferred to skip because it was too far to travel. Ever since, the tournament has had an acute case of status anxiety, determined to attract the greatest players by granting them any indulgences they desire. In normal times, that is its prerogative. But during a pandemic, any stratification of players’ freedoms erodes the event’s credibility.
Take the women’s draw as an illustration: Serena Williams, by the time she emerges from quarantine, will have had 70 hours’ outdoors practice to refine her game. She is permitted to bring a team of staff, and daughter Olympia, and can even participate in a one-day exhibition event in Adelaide so she is match-sharp. By contrast, Switzerland’s Belinda Bencic, the world No12, is through no fault of her own reduced to whacking groundstrokes off the wall. As there was a Covid case on her flight to Melbourne, she will be deprived even of fresh air for a fortnight. Should she be drawn against Williams in the early rounds, how will this possibly be a legitimate contest?
This is the inequity to which Djokovic was drawing attention. He is the beneficiary of a lopsided quarantine system, but he is speaking up on behalf of those disadvantaged by it. In such a self-obsessed sport, that is rare. The product of rutted courts in war-torn Belgrade, he pointed out in his defence, this week, that his privileges in life were hard-earned.
So, forget castigating him again. Djokovic deserves credit for looking out for somebody other than himself, and for questioning the divisions created by Australia’s subservience to stardom.