Serb proves he is the ‘Special One’ to spoil Bercow’s day on Centre Court

This is what epic looks like. When, after nearly five hours of remorseless tennis, Novak Djokovic finally played the shot that won him his fifth Wimbledon title, there was no extravagant celebration, no leaping the net or climbing up the superstructure to embrace his parents in the players’ box. After what was the longest final in the competition’s history, there was just about enough energy left to deliver a Cheshire Cat grin and to fall on his haunches to pluck and eat some of the Centre Court grass.

There was something else too about this result: it provided the

final confirmation that Djokovic is a champion to be celebrated, lauded and admired. Which, in truth, was not the first instinct of the crowd gathered in SW19. What they wanted was a ninth victory for their hero Roger Federer. And seeing him beaten at the last was too much for many to bear; the auditorium was beginning to empty even as the Serb took a lap of honour clutching the gold trophy.

It was one of those days nobody wanted to miss. Jeff Bezos had taken up a free ticket in the Royal Box, the All England Club clearly taking pity on the Amazon founder after he went through the most expensive divorce in history. Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston were there too. One absentee was John Bercow. The Speaker of the House of Commons is surely entitled to a ticket among the Royals but Bercow prefers to steer clear of the box’s tradition of neutrality and head into the stands. Here he can take an afternoon from

High emotion: John Bercow does not hold back in his support for Roger Federer his day job mainlining impartiality to demonstrate his devotion to Federer. The self-styled No1 Roger fan presumably sees a similar artistic bent in the Swiss’s divine backhand to his own ability to extend the word “order” into seven syllables.

As he sat opposite the press box, it was possible to study his reactions, which gave a perfect indicator of the fluctuating fortunes of the match. When Federer was in the ascendant, he was on his feet, punching the air, bellowing his delight. When Djokovic won games, sets and ultimately the title, he sat firmly in his seat, arms crossed.

He was by no means alone. As Djokovic has long realised, Centre Court is not a place that warms to him. The Serb would occasionally shake his head as the chorus of Federer support threatened to put him off his serve. But otherwise he was remarkably composed in the face of disdain. Some might be tempted to describe him as the Millwall of tennis: no one likes him and he doesn’t care. Except he wins things. Lots of things.

And he was magnificent here. Sure Federer edged him in delicacy, elegance, grace. But Djokovic had the resilience. He had asked for a selfie with his hero Jose Mourinho earlier in the Wimbledon fortnight and it is not hard to see the attraction. Here he appeared to be channelling his inner Special One: he was behind on points, on winners, he did not break Federer’s service until the end of the fourth set. Yet he kept on holding out, tenacious, doughty, refusing to do what the overwhelming majority of the crowd wanted him to do and succumb to the Federer genius.