This is an Atlas Obscura entry based, in part, on a May 2019 visit to Western Serbia.
“Do you want to marry God?” she asked, not five minutes into our acquaintance. It seemed less a question than an invitation.
I had picked up a young nun on the side of the road, deducing from her all-black attire that we were headed to the same place: Radovašnica monastery, at the foot of Cer (pronounced “tsair”) mountain in Western Serbia. She was from Bosnia, making her way across the former Yugoslavia from one Serbian Orthodox sanctuary to another, final destination unknown. I was from Washington, DC, driving the rural roads of Mačva in a glossy black Fiat Panda I’d picked up a few days earlier from Belgrade’s Nikola Tesla airport. Our conversation had taken an intimate turn remarkably quickly.
“No,” I answered bluntly, hoping to cut the evangelizing short. “I only came to light an anniversary candle”—shorthand, in the regional idiom, for the end of a one-year period of mourning. Though I was telling the truth about the candles, traditional beeswax tapers bought for that purpose in one of the nearby villages, it’s also the case that I was in a hurry and Radovašnica was just the first stop on a day trip back in time.
Local lore has it that the monastery’s land was endowed by King Stefan Dragutin of the Nemanjić dynasty in the late 13th century, making it among the oldest in the “Pocerina” region on the north side of the mountain. Both Serbia and the still-disputed territory of Kosovo are dotted with Orthodox monasteries, many far grander in size or set in more dramatic landscape than this one. But Radovašnica, like the others, helps tell the story of Serbia from medieval to modern times. It’s also a gateway between the fields and orchards of the area’s small family farms and the mountain. “Fertile Mačva has always attracted occupiers,” narrates a tv documentary about the monastery, the main church of which was destroyed repeatedly during several hundred years of Ottoman rule, late 18th-century conflicts between Turks and Habsburgs, 19th-century Serbian uprisings, and in two world wars. Sadly, it’s not the only thing around here that’s been “demolished, burned, and plundered.”
Although Cer—named for Quercus cerris, the species of oak that covers the terrain—certainly offers plenty of hiking and other outdoor activity for tourists and locals alike, it’s best known for an August 1914 battle in which the undermanned Serbian army defeated invading Austro-Hungarian forces, resulting in the first Allied victory of World War I. It is to the memory of the fallen from that campaign that the newest Orthodox church in the vicinity, Saint John of Shanghai and San Francisco, is dedicated. Baptized six years ago on the battle’s centenary, the church also serves as a sort of rest stop for travelers who brave the cobblestone track that traverses the mountaintop. (Google maps will instruct you to get from one end of the mountain to the other by roads at its base for a reason, as I learned when my rental car got stuck in mud created by the combination of spring rains and dirt roads.) When I was last there, both the church and the nearby “Linden Waters” lodge were deserted, though someone had been by recently enough to leave a full bottle of Montenegrin wine on a picnic table out front. A mural behind the church proclaims “Cer’s heroes, holy warriors,” putting a spiritual gloss on what was a decidedly secular event and hinting at the contemporary church’s role in keeping Serbian nationalism alive.
About five miles to the south of the mountain’s peak is a modest museum and monument: an ossuary in the form of natural rock, embellished with the phrase, “Your deeds are immortal.” The Battle of Cer also lives on in a WWI-era song, “March on the Drina,” played at national-team sporting events, and a 1964 film by the same name. Despite this cultural legacy, it’s the case that Cer doesn’t call attention to itself. Unless you know what you’re looking for, you might think the mountain and its surroundings are what an urbanite from Belgrade, a two hours’ drive away, would call a “vukojebina” (literally, “a place where wolves fuck”). The Serbian government, however, is determined not to let the mountain or the military conquest that took place there be forgotten. In late 2018, they announced a plan to construct a memorial complex with a massive glass tower “symbolizing victory,” featuring 360-degree views of the surrounding countryside, and designed to “be visible from large parts of Serbia.” My advice: get there while the wolves still outnumber the tourists.
Note: this is an excerpt from a work in progress.
I. Spain: November, 2019
“Would you like to try some?” he asked, offering up a brown paper package he’d just retrieved from a stuffed gym bag. I must have looked dubious, as he added, “It’s good, actually.” But I was hesitant not because I feared how his gluten-free snack would taste but because I was unsure of the propriety of a writer’s sharing food with her subject.
In that moment, though, I wasn’t operating as a journalist. And Novak Djoković was less a world-famous athlete than one of a small group of Serbs hanging around after a press conference, commiserating over a painful loss. Despite our differences in status, it felt like we were in this together.
I cupped my hands and watched as he poured a mix of oats and carob chunks into them. He was right: it wasn’t bad. We both munched as we resumed our conversation—by that point, we’d shifted from tennis and sports journalism to the most apt Serbian translation for “drama queen” to recent films about Nikola Tesla.
We’d started talking some 15 minutes earlier, after Djoković stretched out on the dais near one of his Davis Cup teammates, with whom I was chatting. In front of the podium, the other Serbian players were taking turns doing their final domestic tv interviews of the week. In an unusual move, Djoković was waiting for everyone to finish up so they could leave the media center as a team. Even the players too young to have been there from the beginning knew what this day had become: it was the end of an era.
Whether the era in question began in 2001, when Jelena Janković and Janko Tipsarević foreshadowed the success to come by winning the juniors singles titles at the Australian Open, or in 2004, when Nenad Zimonjić lifted the mixed doubles trophy in Melbourne, beating defending champions Martina Navratilova and Leander Paes with his Russian partner, or even in 2007, when Ana Ivanović and Novak Djoković made their first major finals (at the French Open and US Open, respectively) and ended the year ranked among the top 4 players in the world—it hardly matters. In fact, one could argue that the era started in 1995, when rump Yugoslavia returned to international tennis competition, in both the men’s Davis Cup and women’s Federation Cup, after several years in the wilderness due to UN sanctions. Zimonjić, the only Serb whose career had spanned this entire quarter century, was now 43 and playing on artificial hips.
In November 2019, the Serbian men approached the Spanish capital for the national team tournament with two goals: to finish the decade as they’d started it, by winning the Davis Cup, and to give their outspoken, bespectacled teammate Janko Tipsarević a proper sendoff into retirement. (A group vacation in the Maldives was to follow.) Tipsarević had already competed at his final ATP event a month prior, making the quarterfinals at the Stockholm Open. He was selected for the national team despite having played only intermittently—not just during his last season but over the previous five years—due to a series of injuries which had derailed his career after two seasons ranked in the top ten. In Madrid, he and Viktor Troicki, who had performed the hero’s role in their 2010 Davis Cup victory, played two doubles matches in the round-robin group stage, winning one and losing the other to one of the very best doubles teams in the world: Pierre-Hugues Herbert and Nicolas Mahut of France, who had gone undefeated at the ATP’s year-end championship the previous week. In the quarterfinal tie against Russia, with the teams poised at one match apiece, the Serbs had opted to substitute Djoković in to partner Troicki in the deciding doubles contest. The childhood friends, who had won their first titles together as juniors, suffered a devastating loss in a third-set tiebreaker, having failed to capitalize on several match points.
The six-member team entered the interview room in silence and sat behind their microphones and tented name-cards with bowed heads, at least a few sporting red eyes and Djoković hiding his face under the bill of a baseball cap. The players’ answers were emotional from the start, with Djoković admitting the loss “hurts us really badly” and Troicki adding, “I probably feel the worst ever [after a loss]. I never experienced such a moment in my career, in my life. And I let my team down, and I apologize to them.” It likely wasn’t until Zimonjić, in the captain’s chair, choked up that the majority of the assembled press understood what was at stake for the Serbs in this Davis Cup campaign.
“Sorry,” he began haltingly. “It’s not [about] winning or losing, just for you to understand.” Through tears, he explained: “It’s that the four players sitting here. . . I would say they are the golden generation of our tennis. And I see it as an end because it’s Janko’s last match. . . . You dream, maybe, to go all the way—to celebrate, you know, with a victory. But sometimes it doesn’t happen, what you wanted to happen.”
Even though, two years later, Djoković remains on the top of the game, Zimonjić was right: the loss in Madrid marked the end of something significant. Ana Ivanović, the youngest of the “golden” group, had preceded all of them into retirement, opting to stop playing at age 29, after injury cut short her 2016 season. Though Jelena Janković hasn’t officially hung up her racquets, she also hasn’t competed professionally since undergoing back surgery after the 2017 US Open. Viktor Troicki, who rebounded from that worst-ever feeling by helping Serbia win the inaugural ATP Cup trophy at the start of 2020, spent the last year transitioning from active player to Davis Cup captain.
II. Serbia: July, 2010
Though I didn’t know it at the time, this was a summer that would change my life.
I spent a chunk of it, including my birthday, in the village of my father’s birth, 100km west of Belgrade. There was nothing unusual about this, as I’d been visiting my grandmother’s farm since infancy; nor was it a rare occurrence for me to celebrate at least part of my birthday inside, watching tv. When my grandmother first got a black and white television in the early ‘80s, my siblings and I would rush from the back yard where we spent most of our day into the living room to catch the cartoons that came on before the nightly news—most often, Looney Tunes reels dubbed into what was then called “Serbo-Croatian.” But as I got older, I watched more sports coverage, especially of my favorite event, Wimbledon, which (like my birthday) takes place in early July.
In 2010, I got a double-dose of tennis. Though Novak Djoković had lost in the semifinals at the All England Club, the Davis Cup quarterfinals were scheduled for the weekend following Wimbledon’s conclusion—and Serbia was playing in them for the first time as an independent nation. This was a huge occasion, in part because it had taken the Serbian team 15 years to climb from the lowest tier of regional zone competition to the “World Group”: the 16 best tennis nations. For the previous three seasons, they’d been knocking at the door of the tennis elite but unable to gain full entry, repeatedly losing in the first round and having to win September playoffs to get another chance the next year. Perhaps a bigger deal in the Balkans: Serbia was facing neighbors, former compatriots, and relatively recent co-belligerents in Croatia for a spot in the semifinals. As this was the first international meeting between the two men’s teams, members of which had all been born in Yugoslavia before the wars, there was some concern about what kind of welcome the Serbs would get from their hosts in Split. But apart from some hecklers in the crowd, it was uneventful off court. On court, the Serbs triumphed by a 4-1 margin, with all their wins coming in straight sets.
This victory—as well as those that followed, culminating in a championship tie played in front on twenty-thousand spectators packed into Belgrade Arena—marked a turning point not only for several members of the Davis Cup team but also for me.
Initiated into playing tennis by both parents and into being a tennis fan by my father, I’d been casually involved with the sport since childhood. Trips to the neighborhood court brought all manner of lessons, not merely in groundstroke technique but in sportsmanship as well. To this day, I can’t step on a tennis court without hearing my dad’s voice—at one moment, admonishing me for not returning balls directly to my opponent when it was his or her turn to serve; at another, expressing pleasant surprise at how well I hit a backhand. In the late ‘70s and ‘80s, the later rounds of majors were broadcast on network tv and I was allowed to stare at the screen for longer than usual. One of the first philosophical disagreements I recall having with my father concerned the on-court antics of John McEnroe: while we both admired Bjorn Borg and disliked Jimmy Conners, we were divided over the American who had earned his nickname “SuperBrat.” The introductory music NBC chose for their “Breakfast at Wimbledon” program still transports me back to our shared time in front of the tv—not quite as powerful or as sentimental as Proust’s madeleine, perhaps, but something like it. Though I rooted for Martina Navratilova and enjoyed seeing other WTA players in action, my early fandom reached its peak when Boris Becker—like me, a teenager—smashed his serve and threw his body around the grass courts at Wimbledon in the mid-‘80s.
In 1986, the year “Boom Boom” Becker won Wimbledon for a second time, another player in the men’s draw caught my eye. Though it’s the case that he was the stereotypical “tall, dark, and handsome” type of romance novels, I was attracted less by his features or physique than by his name—one bound to tie the tongues of Anglophone commentators. Because he shared my father’s first name, Slobodan (a name which would become infamous within a few years for reasons having nothing to do with tennis), I knew that meant he also shared his homeland. Growing up as an “ethnic” American, I was accustomed to people using Yugoslavia as a punchline: the long name, obscure location, and ambiguous geopolitical position, never mind the compact car, were the source of much teasing in the waning days of the Cold War. (One coach affectionately called me “half-breed,” something unimaginable today.) But Yugoslav passion for and prowess in sports were no joke. For one thing, Sarajevo had hosted the winter Olympics in 1984, while I was in high school. For another, the country had been collecting medals in team sports for decades: football, handball, volleyball, water polo, and (above all for an American) basketball. So, I had already experienced both collective exhilaration and cultural pride as a spectator of European championships and Summer Olympics. But since “Bobo” Živojinović was the first Yugoslav tennis player of whom I was aware, seeing him advance to the singles semifinal at Wimbledon—and, later that summer, win the men’s doubles trophy at the US Open—ignited a new feeling in me.
My favorite sport being played by people with names like mine, speaking the language I’d learned by communicating with my grandmother? That was something special. The rise and dominance of Monica Seles a few years later—she first won the French Open as a 16-year-old in 1990—was even more significant. Before she was stabbed by an unstable fan of one of her rivals, Seles had won eight grand slam titles playing under the Yugoslav flag.
Of course, all of this happened before the violent breakup of Yugoslavia—and before my ethnic identity became a source of shame rather than pride. As a child, I heard countless stories about both the traumatic events and heroic exploits of the two World Wars in which Serbs had fought alongside the Allies. In the center of our village, there was a monument bearing the names of both my grandfather and great-grandfather; their portraits, in uniform, hung in our living room. During our summer trips, I felt just as comfortable on Croatia’s Adriatic coast as in rural Serbia. At home in the DC suburbs, my parents hosted an annual “slava” celebrating our patron, Saint Nicholas, at which ex-pats from all over Yugoslavia outnumbered the Americans. Serbo-Croatian, spoken abroad, was like a secret language that only a select few could understand. And even though I’d had to correct the pronunciation of my name the first time the teacher called roll in every class for my entire school life, having such strong ties to another culture and what felt like a permanent home in a different country—as opposed to the various apartments, duplexes, and houses where we’d lived in California, Ohio, and Maryland—had always grounded me.
When the Serbian team became Davis Cup champions in December 2010, I felt something unfamiliar: pride in the part of myself that I’d tried to keep at a distance for nearly two decades. In retrospect, it seems unsurprising that when Novak Djoković began the 2011 season not just by winning the Australian Open but by going unbeaten for weeks, then months, totaling 41 matches and 7 titles in a row, I was hooked. No longer dependent on network or even cable tv, I watched every one of his matches during the first part of the season on my desktop monitor thanks to digital streams. At least weekly, I would call my father with updates or send him links to online coverage of the winning streak. Then, just a few days before my birthday, Djoković won Wimbledon, beating Rafael Nadal for the fifth time that year, and took over the top spot. Within the month, I had put my job search on hold and written my first piece about tennis. Within two months, I had booked a flight to Belgrade and talked my way into media credentials for the Davis Cup semifinal against Argentina.
In an interview during that September week in Serbia, Djoković recalled his twelfth birthday in 1999, during which NATO bombs dropped on his hometown, observing: “The war made me a better person because I learned to appreciate things and to take nothing for granted. The war also made me a better tennis player because I swore to myself that I’d prove to the world that there are good Serbs, too.” It didn’t require twenty major titles and countless other records for Djoković to prove that there are good Serbian tennis players. Indeed, that had likely been established as a fact long before he made the promise to himself. But the burden of representing a twenty-first century Serbia to the world is one that he and, to a lesser degree, the other members of the golden generation still carry. It’s why tennis, for them, is more than a game.
In the lead up to the busiest part of the tennis season, I had the pleasure of joining BBC radio host Steve Crossman and tennis correspondent Russell Fuller on a 5 Live Sports special program discussing what makes the ATP #1 tick.
At the World Tour Finals in London, I had a chance to ask Novak Djoković for his thoughts on what Viktor Troicki has achieved this season. “Well,” started the ATP #1, “I think he managed something that not many have in the history of tennis: to return, practically from nothing, to where he belongs—in the world’s top 25.” Showing that he’d been following his teammate’s results closely, he added: Viktor “had a bit of difficulty in the last few months lining up successes and maintaining the continuity that he had in the first 5-6 months of the year. But, all things considered and taking into account where he was 15 months ago and where he is now, I think he really should be acknowledged and congratulated, because psychologically that is extremely difficult and a big challenge and he managed to overcome it. So, as his friend, I am extremely pleased that he succeeded in doing it.”
What does Troicki think of his own accomplishments? Earlier this year, I sat down with the Serbian player and his Australian coach for two wide-ranging conversations about their first year back on tour after a year-long suspension. With both Troicki and Reader, we talked a lot about the past: that fateful day in Monte Carlo and its aftermath. Even though it’s been two years since the CAS tribunal decided his case, the emotions of both men are still strong. (Those needing a refresher on Troicki’s case, which led to his being sanctioned for violating the ITF’s anti-doping rules, can read this overview from 2013.) Here, though, we’ll focus mostly on the positives: Viktor’s comeback and what he’s learned about himself and the man who travels with him for much of the year. Read my exchange with Jack Reader here; the Serbian version of this interview was published by B92.
AM: The week you returned, you were ranked 847 in the world and now you’re in the top 25. But those are merely numbers. What are you most proud of in terms of the last year?
VT: Well, it was hard. Before starting, it was hard mentally—not knowing what was going to happen. There was a lot of pressure, from everyone, and I wasn’t sure myself how it was going to be, whether I was going to return at all. Who knows, if I’d lost the first five matches, how I would have felt or whether I’d play again?
Even though a lot of people were doubting if I’d ever come back, I’m a very stubborn person—you know, Serbian inat. So, I wanted to prove, first of all to myself but also to others, that I could do it and that I could be even better. Of course, if I get into position to say out loud to the whole organization of the ITF that they were wrong in trying to end my career…
AM: But you know it wasn’t personal, right? I don’t mean for you—simply that the ITF would have gone after anyone in that position.
VT: Afterwards, I felt it was. Everything they said in public, they made it personal.
AM: Well, they have to maintain their position.
VT: Sure, sure. But, afterwards, whatever I felt before from the ITF, it’s not the same. For example, I asked for a wildcard for the US Open last year—just for qualies—and there was no response. I didn’t expect to get the wildcard, but it’s proof that they don’t care about me.
AM: To return to the good stuff, what else are you feeling after this year? Although you may not be at your career-high ranking now (he spent three weeks at #12 in 2011), have there been other high points?
VT: Definitely, winning the Sydney title was huge to start the year. I’ve had some good results, on grass especially. But I had a lot of good matches, good wins, and feel my game is improving, which is the most pleasing thing to see. I don’t want to stop here.
Altogether, I’m still hungry for more results and for being better than I am. It’s nice to see where I am after just one year, but I still want to improve. That’s my goal and that’s why I’m working hard.
I have to say, though, that sometimes I’m disappointed that I’m not getting much credit. You know, when a player comes back from an injury or a long break, they write about it and it’s a big thing: “He came back; he made it!” A lot of players use their protected ranking; they get wildcards. It hurt me that I didn’t have any of those. It doesn’t even matter about last year—just for being where I am, right now… It seems like [the media] are almost forbidden to say anything about me because of what happened.
AM: From my perspective, it may be that doping is such a serious issue in sports that there’s a risk in criticizing the ITF and WADA or even appearing sympathetic toward a player like you, returning from suspension. Certainly, it’s been suggested that I’m naive for believing your version of events or that I don’t understand the bigger issues at stake. Sports journalists may be afraid to do or say anything that could make them look “soft” on doping.
What about sponsors? I know Babolat stuck with you—anybody else?
VT: Lotto, the clothing company, stepped up right away. They wanted me to wear their stuff as soon as I came back. But apart from that, no, nothing. Ok, being Serbian, it’s already tough. But having this situation, it’s even tougher.
AM: What was it like returning to the Challenger tour after all these years?
VT: It was definitely weird, you know, being on the tour for however many years and being used to it and then coming back to the qualies of Challengers. It was different.
AM: Did you talk to any of the young players?
VT: Yeah, they helped me because I felt they were sometimes scared of me. They knew who I was, obviously, and my ranking in the past.
AM: There was an intimidation factor?
VT: Yeah, but on the other hand, they all wanted to beat me because they knew I was a good player. So, they were kind of scared but also had more motivation to go for it.
It was kind of weird, being on the Challenger tour, meeting some of the guys I’ve never seen and some kids that are coming up and probably going to be great players.
AM: How was the road trip with your team?
VT: It was fun—we were all excited about it, even though it was the Challengers and I had to play qualies. I felt like I was 19 or 20 again. When I finished juniors, that’s how I felt—I wanted it so bad, I was running for every ball and fighting for every point. It was definitely a great experience.
I was always a fighter—I would never give up. That’s why, I think, I made it—both times. When I was first coming up, trying to build my ranking, I believed in myself. Even though, when I was a junior, they told me I couldn’t have a career because I wasn’t talented enough.
AM: As juniors, Janko [Tipsarević] was always considered the more talented one.
VT: He was older than me by two years. I never even got to hit with him before I was about 18—he was way ahead of me, already playing professional tournaments at a young age. Novak was one year younger, but he used to play with the older guys. So, a lot of people never thought I could be any good or make it as a professional. I was never the best of my generation—there were a lot of kids who were ahead of me.
But I started playing better and better when I was 18. And that helped me a lot [last year], remembering these old times. I was fighting even then, working harder than the others, just to prove to people that I could make it. I had no sponsors, no help from anyone. Actually, a friend sent me an article recently from when I was young, saying that I shouldn’t get monthly support from the Federation because I had no future in tennis. It was funny to see that.
All these things help now. Just like when I was young, I want to do it because I believe in myself and that I can be where I want to be.
AM: When you came back, one of your first big goals was to make it into the top 100. What kind of goals do you have now?
VT: A definite goal is the top 10. As I’ve said, I’m hungry and I want more and the top 10 is the next step. It’s not easy: there are a lot of great players who want to be there, but I feel I have a chance. I believe in myself—that’s one of the main things you’ve got to have, other than quality and hard work. But if you don’t believe, you’re never going to be there.
AM: Even if this whole ITF case hadn’t happened, you weren’t doing too well in 2012. Weren’t you already in a bit of a slump before you started working with Jack Reader?
VT: I got settled into this kind of position—being in the top 30, 40, 50—and nothing major was happening. I got pretty used to this feeling of going to tournaments, playing matches, and not really enjoying it. When I was a kid, I always wanted to be here; but then, I wasn’t feeling the excitement.
When we started working together, even though I was top 50 in the world, my game was really bad. I wasn’t feeling confident at all and I was struggling with my game—it was falling apart. Jack came right in the moment when the new season was starting. Of course, it didn’t start great immediately, but we were going step by step and by working on specific things, I felt improvement. Everything was going better and better—already by the French Open I reached the fourth round, which was a good thing. At Wimbledon, I made the third round, beating Janko and playing other good matches. So, I felt like my game was back… Then it all stopped.
Such a coach, he could have gone with anyone. I know he had offers. When I got sanctioned, when we knew it would be a year, Jack took it hard. During the first call, he felt sorry; he was also very shocked and down. But then he called me back right away and said, “Ok, we’re going to do this. We’re going to come back. We’re going to prove that we belong there and be better than before.” He was pumped right away—it was crazy to see, but he was.
AM: That must have been especially helpful since you were so down at the time. I remember seeing you on the front page of a Serbian tabloid, with a headline like “I don’t know what to do with my life,” and being worried for you.
VT: Well, I was shocked more than anything. It was all over the news—all the attention was on me and nobody knew what really went on. All of a sudden, it was happening and it was a big thing, you know?
I’ve got to thank the Serbian media. They were all really supportive and I never expected that. My personal feeling is that they were behind me. First of all, they were trying to understand what had happened; but after that, they were trying to encourage me to come back. That helped me.
AM: What have you learned about your coach in the past two years?
VT: That he is a really great person, first of all. That he is genuine and honest—a true friend. It’s not just a professional relationship. He was never after any money or anything like that. He would always help you out.
It’s incredible how many friends he has around the world. I’ve met many of them and they all say the exact same thing—that he’s a great person and he cares about his friends. With me, he’s been really caring a lot and it’s unbelievable to have such a person next to you. He’s not just in it for business—it’s also to have a nice relationship outside the court. People love him on the tour: they know he’s funny, very relaxed, and always positive.
He also made me more happy on the court and helped me enjoy tennis more. There are a lot of things he’s taught me and a lot of things I’ve seen from him. It’s great to have him with me.
For the second installment, I spoke to two sports journalists who present quite a contrast: one American, one Brit; one 40-year veteran of tennis writing, one who got his start covering tennis just as Djoković made his push to the very top of the ATP rankings; one who now writes mostly for online sports publications, one who works for a daily newspaper. The interviews with Peter Bodo and Simon Briggs were conducted primarily with a Serbian audience in mind and published by B92. Read my earlier exchanges with Brian Phillips and Steve Tignor here.
Simon Briggs became The Telegraph’s tennis correspondent in 2011 after writing about England’s national sport, cricket, for fifteen years. He played both sports in his youth, but opted for cricket “properly”—on a competitive level—and tennis only “socially,” as the two sports’ seasons overlap. Briggs began dabbling in tennis journalism while in Australia covering the start of the cricket season, being asked to send reports home when Andy Murray did especially well down under (the Scot made his first of four Aussie Open finals to date in 2010). This spring, Briggs got to meet with Djoković one on one for a Telegraph magazine cover story, an interview during which he got to know the “real Novak.”
AM: During Wimbledon, Grantland’s Louisa Thomas quoted a British journalist saying, “I’m not a tennis correspondent; I’m an Andy Murray correspondent.” I’m curious if you think that accurately describes your job?
Briggs: I have said that in the past… Yeah, that’s because of the lack of depth that we’ve had. So, when we have the Konta story or something, it’s a nice break from covering Andy. He keeps us going as journalists, because if there wasn’t Andy—I don’t know how many of us there are, maybe 10-12, in that alley—we certainly wouldn’t exist in the numbers that we do. There wouldn’t be anything else to write about.
AM: Since tennis has such a long history in Britain, why don’t the big British newspapers cover the sport as whole?
Briggs: I think it’s unfair to say we don’t—it’s a slight exaggeration. The tabloids do sometimes withdraw from events when Andy goes out, so that is proper “Andy Murray correspondent,” whereas The Telegraph, The Times, and The Guardian never do that because they take the other guys seriously. But, if Andy’s playing on a given day, then he’s the story. Unless one of the “Big Three” goes out—and he has a routine victory—that’s the only situation in which he wouldn’t be the story.
AM: To what degree do you think the focus on Murray shapes, for instance, coverage of Djoković?
Briggs: Yes, a little bit. But I think people just don’t “get” Novak the way they got Roger and Rafa. I wrote in that Telegraph magazine story that he’s in a unique position in the history of the sport to have become the guy who inherits the mantle of “top man” from two such charismatic players—they’re both phenomenons whose game style and physical appearance and marketing created a perfect storm. They’re just absolute freak events, those two. So, I think it’s tough for him to come behind them.
There’s a big problem with his game style, for one thing, in a sport which is very aesthetic. His game style isn’t pretty. He’s not a “looker” as a player; he’s a player you admire, for sure. Anyone who doesn’t admire him is not a true tennis fan—you can’t not admire and respect that guy. But it’s very tough for him in that sense.
Then, in the UK, the viewing figures (that Sky Sports record for their matches), which is the best indication, put him at fourth out of the Big Four by quite a long way. So, even though he’s been the best player in the world since I started doing this, he still isn’t anywhere near the others in terms of popularity.
AM: I’ve seen Federer referred to as an “honorary Brit.” Do you think that’s mostly because of his success at Wimbledon or also because the way he carries himself—with gentlemanly restraint, and so on—is sympathetic to the British public?
Briggs: I wouldn’t have thought that the Roger-Rafa split is so different in Britain compared to everywhere else, but maybe the Wimbledon factor means that it is. But when you’re a nation of introverts, you sometimes admire people who are out there with their emotions because that’s what most introverts really want to express.
AM: With reference to Novak’s unique position historically, do you think a player with a different style or personality might have been received more warmly by fans or media? Or would anyone face similar challenges?
Briggs: Any player who doesn’t have an absolute lorry-load of charisma. Let’s say that Kyrgios had come up behind Roger and Rafa and been the third wheel, then he would be huge because he’s just got that marketability, the “X factor” which those two have. Andy’s got a bit more weirdness about him that doesn’t apply to Novak. His game style’s quirkier and he’s more unhinged—more likely to melt down. Whereas with Novak, his very grindingness may make people take him for granted a little bit.
AM: What do you think of the Murray-Djoković rivalry? It’s been fairly lopsided recently— until Andy’s win in Montreal, Novak had won eight matches in a row.
Briggs: I think we always painted it, maybe unfairly, as an “even-Steven” business until the moment when Andy went into his back-surgery recession (after September 2013). Maybe I’m biased… In 2011, he got stuffed by Novak in Australia—that was the moment we thought, “Oooh, crickey! There seems to be a gap emerging.” Before that, it hadn’t been that big. I mean, Novak had won his first major and Andy hadn’t, right? But we all said, “Well, Andy’s always had to play Roger [in finals] and Novak got to play Tsonga.” So, there was a little bit of a sense that we could make excuses for him on that front. After that, Novak didn’t win any more majors; though he won Davis Cup, that’s not a massive deal in the UK when we’re not involved.
I think Andy always felt he had Novak’s number in juniors—he was generally ahead of him, wasn’t he, when they were growing up. So, 2011 was a bit of a shock. Then, through the Lendl years, you felt that Andy had pulled it back, beating him in two finals (even though he still lost to him in Australia).
AM: But then it was another two years…
Briggs: Yes, it was after the Wimbledon final in 2013 that it completely switched into annihilation. So, it may be British bias, but our coverage always painted them as rivals on a pretty equal level with the exception of that one big blowout in Australia. That probably was the result that drove Andy, in the long run, to get Lendl into his camp and led to a couple of years of great tennis.
AM: This year, they played the Australian Open final and French Open semi-final. Then, in the lead-up to Wimbledon, I remember seeing Andy described in the British press as the biggest threat to Novak’s title defense. There was a lot of attention at the time to Novak’s medical time-outs, courtside coaching, the ball-kid incident. What do you think of that? Is some of that the tabloid influence?
Briggs: That was the Daily Mail that really took him on about the ball-girl. I think that is maybe influenced by the Murray-Djoković rivalry and by the aftermath of the play-acting row in Australia.
AM: Do you think there was “play-acting” or did that get blown out of proportion?
Briggs: In a way, we didn’t have to make that decision, because Andy said it… I was quite careful in the immediate report—there may have been one sentence trying to explain what was going on overall, but I tried to put as much of it as possible in Andy’s words and not editorialize because it’s so difficult to know what’s going on in players’ bodies. But, sure, I think the British media would have taken Andy’s side on that.
AM: But even Andy later said that it had been blown out of proportion and that he had no issue with Novak.
Briggs: Yeah, inevitably.
AM: In some February interviews, he talked about how he had allowed himself…
Briggs: …to be sucked in.
AM: Well, not necessarily to be sucked in but to lose focus—because to say “sucked in” suggests that Novak was doing something deliberate, which I don’t think is a fact. In any case, Andy seemed to back away from that position pretty significantly.
Briggs: I think our view is that there had been some gamesmanship going on, but that Andy was as culpable for not handling it. The key quote in that whole interview after the final was something like: “I’ve experienced it before, but maybe not in the final of a Grand Slam.” You could see that what he was thinking was, “I can’t believe he’s doing this to me in a Grand Slam.” My strong interpretation of that was that he was talking about behavior—because we all know that juniors, in particular, do a lot of limping around…
We disagreed on this matter of interpretation, so perhaps it’s best to leave readers with the transcript of Murray’s comments so they can read between the lines on their own.
AM: What I found odd about some of the British coverage of the match is that it gave the impression Murray was leading, when in reality the match was tied at a set-all and Murray had a single break and hold in the third before Novak came back. Do you think there’s some wishful thinking there?
Briggs: Some thought the distraction had lost him the match, whereas I didn’t think he would have won anyway. We all know how hard it is to put Novak away. There’s also just looking for a bit of drama.
AM: But not everybody wrote it up that way, which makes me wonder: how much of that drama-seeking is because they’re writing for a British audience?
Briggs: What you’ve got to remember is that tennis is a sport that is slightly odd and unique—a sport without boundaries. It sees itself as a land in which fans follow heroes who aren’t necessarily from their country. It’s not tribal in the same way as football or other team sports. So, we maybe bring a bit more of that nationalism to our coverage, possibly because we’re competing for readers with the Premier League. Whereas the Americans take an Olympian perspective, viewing the sport from a distance, we may focus more on the “blood and guts,” since tennis—lacking the physical contact of football—can seem antiseptic otherwise.
“Different Strokes” (2015)
Peter Bodo has been writing about tennis for nearly forty years, beginning as a newspaper reporter during the “tennis boom” of the 1970s. He is the author of numerous books on the sport, including A Champion’s Mind, which he co-authored with Pete Sampras, and his latest, about Arthur Ashe’s historic 1975 Wimbledon win. Additionally, he’s an outdoor enthusiast who has written about hunting and fishing in both fictional and non-fictional formats. Many readers will be familiar with his writing for Tennis Magazine and its associated website, where he worked for over two decades. Currently, his columns are featured on ESPN.
AM: Do you remember when Novak first appeared on your radar?
Bodo: I remember the early controversies—the breathing issue, I think, at the French Open. But I wasn’t there that year (2005), so I really zoned in on him the year I wrote a story called “The Perfect Player.” This was at Indian Wells early on (2007) and it raises the question of the theoretically perfect player. I sat down and interviewed him for that piece. It’s kind of funny: to this day, if I write something where I criticize Djoković or not even criticize him but praise his opponent, Serbs will come out of the woodwork and attack me. Some will remind me, “You once wrote a piece…”
AM: So, your early impression was that he was a complete player?
Bodo: He was on his way. I loved the fact that he was so clean and how much rotation he had. I loved how flat his back-take was—stuff like that. He was just very economical and I thought he had all the upside in the world.
AM: What about his personality? In 2007, when he first made the final at the US Open, he was getting a lot of press for the “Djoker” side of him, the showman.
Bodo: Like most of the Eastern Europeans, he tried too hard. I’m from there, too, so I know. [Bodo’s parents were ethnic Hungarians who emigrated from Austria to the US in 1953, when he was four years old.] They try too hard, they get shat on, and they never get the respect they either deserve or feel they deserve. There’s a fair amount of snobbery toward them. They try to impress the West and are looked down upon by the West and dominated by the East (Russia). That whole region is caught in that crunch.
Of course, I’m speaking in broad generalities, but you often see the symptoms of this kind of thing. They really try to impress, they work extra hard, they try to show how smart they are: “We’re not just peasants from the middle of Europe. We can do this.”
So, you know, there was a touch of that with Novak—there still is. I always get a kick out of the way he talks like a bureaucrat—he kind of gives speeches.
AM: I noticed that his press conference answers have been getting longer and longer.
Bodo: Yes. He never says, “I don’t think that’s true, period.” There’s always a preface to his answers, a middle part, and a conclusion. On the whole, though, I think he’s been a real asset. He really wants to do the right thing. He wants to be a good citizen, a good representative of his country, and a force for good in the sport and the world.
AM: Looking back to somebody like Lendl, it seems to me that he was not only from Eastern Europe but also a particular kind of player and personality. That lent itself, in a way, to certain stereotypes. I’ve seen a number of comparisons between the two, especially regarding fans’ response to them. But I’m not sure I buy it—for one thing, because I’m skeptical of using “machine” metaphors to describe Novak.
Bodo: Right. They’re different. Lendl came from a very different and harsher situation. When Lendl got off the plane here and saw the headline “John Lennon was shot,” he asked, “Who is John Lennon?” Novak went to Germany when he was fairly young and was exposed to Western culture. He grew up in a whole different time. Their personalities are different, too. I got to know Lendl pretty well over the years. He’s got a good sense of humor, and I quite like him, but he’s a cold guy. If you were drowning, I’m not sure Lendl’s the guy you’d want passing by in a boat.
AM: You probably remember the Roddick incident from 2008. To what extent do you think something like that changes how people feel about a player or how a player acts in public? Do you attribute how much more circumspect he is now to maturity or something more strategic?
Bodo: I think it’s all of the above. He was a young guy who had a sobering experience. I’m not sure what he took away from it, but he probably got back to the locker-room and said, “I don’t want to get in these situations.” I don’t think it mattered one bit to people. It didn’t matter to me. Even somebody who booed him at that moment, I don’t think they came back the following year and thought, “There’s that Djoković who did this last year and I booed him.”
AM: Do you think it’s inevitable that any player coming after Federer and Nadal would find media and fans slow to warm to him or could you imagine his being welcomed with open arms?
Bodo: Well, there’s not that much room at the top, for one thing. So, I think it would have taken an exceptional amount of a) charisma, b) results, and c) marketability—a last name like Federer, Nadal, Johnson, or Roddick would have helped, too. It would have taken a perfect storm of user-friendly features to make that happen, which weren’t necessarily there.
AM: When you talk about marketability, you mean mainly in the West?
Bodo: Yes, of course.
AM: So, the fact that Serbia’s a tiny market is relevant. Do you think its recent history matters as much to Novak’s reception?
Bodo: Nobody here knows Serbia’s history, trust me. (Laughing.) No, I don’t think it’s that he’s from Serbia—it’s because he’s from “Where the **** is that?” That’s what it is for these people. Nobody knows.
He’s exotic. His name’s hard to pronounce, he’s got the funny hair—all that stuff sort of plays into it, even his accent, though that’s changed a lot. It never gets to the level of, you know, “He’s from that place that did this or has this history.”
AM: You don’t think there’s an anti-Serb bias to it?
Bodo: No. It’s definitely not anti-Serb—it’s anti-otherness. Anyone who believes that must think all these people read about the UN and Serbia and what NATO did. No: 99.2% of Americans have no idea about that stuff.
AM: Especially after he won Wimbledon for the third time this summer, reaching nine major titles, there seemed to be a critical mass of articles saying Novak should be more appreciated. Have you seen any shifts in terms of the coverage he’s gotten over the years?
Bodo: Yes, he’s won people over. You know, I’m tempted to say it shows how fickle the media is, but that would take credit away from what he’s done, which is significant. And I don’t think it’s been calculated—I don’t think he’s this skeevy guy who decided that it’s going to serve his best interests to be nice all of a sudden. I think he’s just a guy who’s gone through a very appealing and heart-warming evolution into who he is today, which is a wonderful citizen of the world and tennis ambassador. He’s matured beautifully.
Still, I love the fact that he’s retained a lot of his original passion and he still cares about his country—he’s not one of these guys who doesn’t want to have anything to do with his roots. Some players in the past have wanted to escape all that—and they had good reason to in the past, given what they left behind.
It’s really a testament to what he’s done. He earned a renewed respect—he transformed the opinion people had of him through hard work and attitude and actions and success.
AM: How much do you think the coverage of Novak depends on the nationality of the writer or, more to the point, who he’s playing—say, the Brits and Murray? Even if you don’t read around, you must notice the kinds of questions Novak gets from them in press?
Bodo: I don’t read a lot; I do notice their questions. They’re fixated on Murray, just as the French are fixated on the Frenchmen. I think most of them are pretty fair, but they know where their business is. You don’t get as many of the antagonisms that you once did—there used to be that against German players. I remember (British writer) Rex Bellamy’s line about Becker, “It’s curious the Germans would take such a deep interest in a Centre Court that not so many decades ago they had chosen to bomb”—stuff like that. I guess he was trying to be clever, but it was definitely a dig. You don’t see too much of that any more. I think they’re generally pretty fair, but they’re looking out for their own guys and whatever rooting interest they have tends to be for their own people.
AM: They seem to play up the rivalry which, until Murray beat Djoković in Montreal, was pretty lopsided of late.
Bodo: None of that is, I don’t think, negative toward Djoković—they’re all just trying to whip up some kind of storyline and interest. We talked about this the other day: he knows that type of game is played.
AM: He even used the word “storyline” in responding to you, which I thought was interesting. Djoković has been asked, Becker’s been asked these kinds of questions: “Do you feel you get enough respect or appreciation?”
Bodo: See, that’s a storyline in and of itself now. That’s the next one. Sometimes it really helps to try to quantify these things. You know what? He’s appreciated in direct proportion to how much he’s won. He’s number three on the list—you can’t get around that—and he gets number-three appreciation. That’s pretty self-evident, I think.
People are awed by Federer—they’re “ga-ga” over him. He’s unique that way. Even Nadal doesn’t get that. Now that he’s down, you see that he never had the same aura. It’s not like they’ve abandoned him, but it’s awfully quiet out there in Nadal-land.
AM: It sounds to me that your perspective on Novak has been pretty consistent—is that the way you see it? Has there been a major turning point in your thinking about him?
Bodo: No, I don’t think there has. I’m kind of proud of the fact that I’ve always been accused by one camp or the other of being the other guy’s guy. You pick me up on Monday, and I’ve got a man-crush on Federer because I wrote that his hair was “lustrous” in a final. Then, you pick me up on Wednesday, and I’m ga-ga for Nadal; then, on Friday, I’m suddenly on the Djoković band-wagon and isn’t that unfair! I don’t like to shift intentionally, I try to catch myself and not to get too sucked into any of the narratives, and I like to look through different eyes sometimes. Frankly, if I look at my own work over time… I’ve taken my shots at all of them.
AM: Is there anything you find particularly interesting or challenging in writing about Novak?
Bodo: Frustrating? No, nothing actually. I love the stories about him when he was a little kid. I like this idea, this picture of him diligently packing his bag and waiting with his lunch—how earnest and sincere he must have been. I really, really like that.
You know, this isn’t just a Novak thing, but I regret in a way that the game has gone so far… When I started out, you really got to know these guys. They only occasionally became bosom buddies, but you could get fairly close to them if you covered them a lot. Not any more. So, I don’t really know these guys in the same way. I had one-on-one interviews with almost all of them when they were young, but not lengthy ones since then. And if I went now and made an effort, I could get an interview with this new kid coming up, Borna Ćorić. At the front end of my career, I would have known them much better as people.
“The Perfect Player” (2007)
“Novak Djokovic, Roger Federer at heart of ‘great’ debate” (2015 US Open)
During the US Open, I had conversations with a number of tennis writers about Novak Djoković and coverage of him in anglophone media. For this first installment, I spoke to two Americans who aren’t, strictly speaking, sports “reporters.” While Tignor travels to tournaments much more often than does Phillips, you won’t find either of them asking questions from the front row of press conferences or posting updates on the tennis controversy du jour. Both tend to focus on one match at a time and their articles are generally stylish essays with an emphasis on analysis, not news. Our exchanges were originally published in Serbian by B92. To follow: my discussions with ESPN’s Peter Bodo and The Telegraph’s Simon Briggs.
Brian Phillips has been writing for pop culture website Grantland since its 2011 inception. After college, he got his start as an Assistant Literary Editor at The New Republic—and his work is still as likely to be a book review as a sports story. Most recently, the literary and sports worlds collided for Phillips in a piece about Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s detective fiction. Asked if he considers himself a journalist, he responded “definitely not… I’m not sure exactly where the line falls, but I feel too devoted to subjectivity” for that label to fit. As for what drew him to tennis, Phillips recalls it was heartbreak: “my high-school girlfriend broke up with me in January 1996, and since I couldn’t sleep for a couple of weeks, I stayed up watching Monica Seles win the Australian Open. After that, I was hooked.”
Stephen Tignor is the author of High Strung, a history of men’s tennis in the “golden age” of the 1970s and ‘80s. He has worked for Tennis Magazine for almost twenty years and written a regular column on their website for a decade. He played tennis competitively as a child as well as for his alma mater, Swarthmore College. After that, he moved to New York and tried his hand at music journalism, becoming a bigger fan of the sport when he wasn’t playing as often. “But writing about tennis became a natural fit,” he says, “because I knew how to play the game.”
AM: What were your early impressions of Djoković?
Phillips: “My first impression of him was very much filtered through the ‘Djoker’ persona—I particularly remember his impersonations of other players and thinking that here was a brilliant tennis talent with a perhaps debilitating need to be liked.”
Tignor: “My first Djoković sighting is very vivid in my mind, because it was a real discovery, with no warning. At the US Open in 2005, a fellow writer and I went out to a side court to see Gael Monfils, an up-and-comer at the time. Then both of us found ourselves watching the guy across the net instead… I remember seeing Djoković hit a series of forehands that looked like Top 5 material.
Then, in the fifth set, he began to hyperventilate after a long point. He walked over to the sideline and sat down. That was it; no word to the chair umpire. Finally, after what seemed like 10 minutes, a trainer came out, and Novak eventually got up, came back, and won the match. I was left with a very favorable impression of him as a player, but I didn’t like the way he handled the ‘timeout’ situation… By the time my friend and I got back to the press room, though, there was already a buzz about him.”
“That’s the way it continued for me. I loved to watch Djoković play, and was excited that a another full-blown Hall-of-Famer was suddenly in our midst. I wrote a short profile on him for Tennis Magazine that I titled “The Player’s Player”; there was a purity to his game that I liked, and which I felt was especially evident to anyone who played tennis. But I still didn’t like how he pulled the plug in matches when things weren’t going his way: the French Open in 2006 against Nadal, Wimbledon in 2007 against Nadal. Djoković retired in part, I thought, because he couldn’t face defeat. For the most part, though, I was a fan.”
AM: How, to your eyes, has Novak changed since then?
Phillips: “I think his consciousness of the crowd has remained a vulnerable point for him through the years—I am thinking of his 2013 US Open match against Wawrinka, when at one key moment he parodied Stan’s arms-raised ‘applaud-me’ gesture. But one of the ways in which he has changed over the years is that he’s developed a fascinating ability to compartmentalize what could be seen as weaknesses; he hasn’t exorcised his uncertainties, but he has figured out how to keep them to one side of his tennis. You could call that ‘maturity.’ He certainly seems to have grown and changed more—and to have become more comfortably an adult—than many tennis players do during their careers.”
Tignor: “I think that right away Djoković wanted to be something more than just a tennis player. He also wanted to take his place with Federer and Nadal, who were the kings of the tour at the time. Those were the days when Novak said he was going to be the next No. 1, as if it were only a matter of time. And he did shoot right up behind Federer and Nadal; Rafa said he knew from the start that Djoković was going to challenge him very quickly. But he couldn’t pass them. It was during that period of stagnation that he lashed out at Roddick, and took a contrite beating from Federer two days later.”
Memory Lane: 2008 US Open
(By his post-match press conference, Novak was already expressing regret.)
“But I think that changed when he helped win the Davis Cup, and then really did pass Rafa and Roger in 2011. He didn’t need to prove himself as a personality anymore, and I think he has taken the ‘job’ of being No. 1 and presenting himself as a representative of the sport and his country seriously, and done it well.”
AM: Would almost any player rising to the top right after Federer and Nadal face resistance from both fans and media?
Phillips: “Yes, I think it’s inevitable. But it’s also easy to imagine cases where the resistance would be less than the resistance to Djoković; an American player would have had an easier time winning American fans, for example. I think there’s also a psychological dimension to the resistance to Djoković. I always think of a line from a poem by James Merrill when I think of him: ‘What least thing our self-love longs for most / others instinctively withhold.’ I think he wants the kind of love that Federer and Nadal receive, and the crowd in New York or London senses that desire and turns ever so slightly away. In a strange way, he might be more popular if he held the crowd in more contempt.”
Tignor: “Yes, I think it is inevitable. Federer and Nadal aren’t just one-of-a-kind tennis players, they’re one-of-a-kind sportsmen. Federer is the most popular player since Bjorn Borg retired 35 years ago, and Nadal has brought an electricity to the sport that didn’t exist before him. Just as important, they became linked in the public eye, first through the 2008 Wimbledon final, and then the 2009 Australian Open final. The most famous image of them isn’t of a handshake at the net; it’s the shot of Nadal with his arm over Federer’s shoulder during the trophy ceremony in Melbourne in ‘09. Between them, they also embody so many opposing traits—elegance vs. passion, effortlessness vs. effort-fulness, lordliness vs. stoicism—that it’s hard to know how any other player could find something to represent to fans. They’re the Beatles of the Golden Era, the originals.
The tennis writer Joel Drucker wrote something similar about the ‘70s generation. Borg was the Beatles and McEnroe was the Stones; that made Ivan Lendl, the man who vanquished them, Led Zeppelin—brutal, awe-inspiring at times, and hard to love. Djoković is nothing like Lendl in many ways: he doesn’t rule by intimidation, he doesn’t play a brutal style of tennis, and he does go out of his way to connect with fans and entertain them. But he’s portrayed at times in a somewhat similar light—he’s ‘efficient’ instead of ‘elegant,’ ‘clinical’ rather than ‘artistic.’ It’s like he’s taken the fun out of the sport. It’s interesting that Djoković and Lendl are two of the only Eastern European men to reach No. 1. I do think it’s a barrier for U.S. fans.
But I also think Djoković is winning people over, first and foremost with his sustained excellence. These days I hear from more people who call themselves Djoković fans than I once did; his name is universally known now, which isn’t easy for a tennis player in the States. But I do think he could have made life easier for himself along the way. There were the early retirements; there were the shirt-ripping celebrations; there was his bellicose father; there was the brazen challenge to the beloved Federer. Fairly or not, I don’t think any of those things endeared him to people in the US, and it’s obviously hard to shake a first impression.”
AM: How much does Novak’s being from Serbia impact the Western response to him?
Phillips: “As the only male world #1 from a country that’s been bombed by NATO, Djoković may simply seem complicated to fans in Western Europe and the US, in a way that a player from somewhere else might not. My sense is that most fans don’t think consciously—or much—about that complicatedness. He simply offers a kind of felt, unexamined friction that doesn’t point to hostility or malice, necessarily, but just to a difference that no one is coming to tennis to deal with.”
Tignor: “I do think there’s a barrier with Eastern Europeans among US tennis fans, but I think Djoković has made strides in crossing it. In my mind, being No. 1 in an international sport kind of raises him above other divisions.
From my own experience of Americans and our collective lack of interest in, and knowledge of, the world outside our borders, I don’t feel like there’s a widespread recognition of Serbia, for example, as the home of war criminals. I think people here have trouble telling, or remembering, which country did what in the Balkan Wars. I followed the wars in the papers at the time and had a hard time keeping track even then. I also never associated, in any way, the Serbian tennis players of the last decade with the country’s leaders or its past—it never entered my mind. I could be wrong, but I think this is true for the majority of tennis fans here.”
AM: Has English-language coverage of Djoković shifted over the years?
Tignor: “The coverage has changed as he has changed. You read and hear little about his parents now. Physically, he’s now considered invulnerable rather than vulnerable. As a figure in the sport, he’s no longer an apprentice to Federer and Nadal. I think the coverage of his childhood in Serbia has brought some depth to his image. And I think there was sympathy for him after the French Open this year. There’s also no longer a sense that, when he beats Federer, that some cosmic injustice has been done, the way there was when Rafa first started to beat Roger. For the most part, I think the tennis public has the utmost respect for Djoković. If Federer loses to him now, I feel like the reaction from Roger and his fans will be, ‘Well, at least he lost to the best.’
The one negative I’ve seen since Djoković’s rise to the top is that there are attempts to undermine his credibility. Some say he’s faking his injuries, he’s over-dramatic on court, he takes suspicious bathroom breaks, he’s getting an unfair edge somehow. Or, like Lendl, he’s making tennis robotic. It’s all nonsense, and I don’t think the general tennis public in this country thinks of him that way. I think the sense is that, right now, like it or not, he’s just better than everyone else.”
AM: How has your view of Novak changed since he became the top men’s player in 2011?
Phillips: “That’s hard to answer, because I really only started covering Djoković when he was in the middle of conquering the world. My early Djoković pieces are mostly about being worried about him—worried that his psyche might be too normal or too fragile to stand up to the insane demands of elite tennis. That fear turned out to be spectacularly unfounded, but the basic tension it enclosed—the tension between the dominant, consistent, tennis star and the vulnerable human being—is still the lens through which I tend to view him. It’s a much more interesting tension in his case, I think, than in the case of Federer or Nadal.”
Tignor: “My own perspective has only changed only a little. I was always sympathetic to him, but I’ve grown to like and respect him more as he’s matured. His game is still great to watch, he’s a good loser, and he’s a good sport about his duties off the court. From what I see of him, I think he has remarkable patience with people, and does his best to handle every public encounter the right way. I’ll never forget him losing the French Open final this year and still walking over to talk to John McEnroe for NBC TV about it.”
AM: What do you enjoy or find challenging in writing about Novak?
Phillips: “I love writing about Djoković because he’s both one of the most complicated and one of the most talented figures in sports—he’s an extraordinary character, which is exactly what I’m drawn to as a writer. Players who offer easy answers are boring!
Any hugely popular athlete whom you write about for a reasonably large audience will have fans who feel you weren’t adulatory enough, and I certainly hear from angry Djoković fans who aren’t comfortable seeing him treated ironically or with much nuance. I mostly don’t find that kind of criticism very compelling and I mostly tune it out. Although my pieces on him are not hagiographic, they are sympathetic in the sense of earnestly trying to understand Djoković. Ultimately, I’m trying to share my own perspective, not write the piece that every Serbian will love or every American will love or every Djoković fan will love.”
Tignor: “As a player, I find Djoković’s ability to overcome his own anxieties and frustrations interesting. Unlike Federer and Nadal, he can pull the ripcord mentally when things aren’t going his way. But he’s one of the few players who can then gather himself, settle down, and win anyway (Serena is another). He’s as elastic mentally as he is physically, and that’s not something that was always true. I see a lot of my own on-court anxieties in him, so I feel like I have an idea of how hard it is to do what he does. For a guy who is supposed to be a machine, he’s very human. His screams and fist-pumps may not make him beloved by tennis fans, but I like that he’s himself out there. He wants to be loved, yes, but he can’t help acting the way he acts even if it doesn’t get him that love.
Off court, I’ve found his maturation process interesting, especially his ability to be such a professional and carry a lot of responsibility on his back. I also like his sense of humor—it’s broad, rather than cutting. And it’s great that tennis has a No. 1 male player who can dance.
Putting myself in his skin is a challenge. As an American, I sense the difference in the Serbian mentality, history, and way of life. I’m not so well-versed in that history that I feel like I know where he’s coming from, culturally, all the time. But reading about his life has been a good window into Serbia for me.”
AM: Any lasting impressions of Novak from the US Open?
Tignor: “The thing that struck me about him in the Open final is how bouncy and quick and spry he was. I’ve never seen Federer look slow, but Djoković came close to making him look that way. He’s really in his prime physically.
Unfortunately, it’s a trait that translates better live than it does on TV. You can obviously be impressed by his speed and athleticism on TV, but it’s not quite the same as seeing Federer’s shot-making and flair with a racquet. Live, up close, when you see and hear him move, Djoković is an equally exciting athlete.”
Phillips: “The Problem with Novak Djokovic” (2011) “describes what I see as his genuineness in terms of the perils presented to it by major sports stardom. All things considered, I’d say he’s done amazingly well at dealing with the issues I described back then.”
“Tomorrow in the Valley of Ashes” (2015 US Open)
Tignor: “Into the Lion’s Den” (2015 US Open)
Before her breakout run to the US Open quarterfinals, Kristina Mladenović was kind enough to talk to me in the players garden behind Arthur Ashe stadium. Our conversation was published in Serbian by B92; an extended English version is posted at Tennis Translations. Her wins in New York will earn the Franco-Serbian player a new career-high singles ranking of #28.
Photos by Christopher Levy.
This weekend in Bangalore, India will host Serbia in an intriguing Davis Cup World Group play-off. Under different circumstances, 2013 finalists Serbia would be hands-down favorites for staying in the elite sixteen-nation group at the top of men’s tennis. But a Serbian side without three of its top players is vulnerable, as seen this past February when the “B” team—composed of Ilija Bozoljac, Filip Krajinović, Dušan Lajović, and Nenad Zimonjić—lost in Novi Sad. Serbia’s second city also happens to be where these two nations first met to contest a Davis Cup tie, a 4-1 win for the Serbs in 2011.
India’s team for this meeting will feature three of the same players: relative youngster Yuki Bhambri and veteran Somdev Devvarman alongside doubles specialist Rohan Bopanna, who together with Aisam-Ul-Haq Qureshi makes up the ATP tour’s “Indo-Pak Express.” Though he and partner Katarina Srebotnik were still in the US Open mixed-doubles draw, Bopanna was kind enough to sit down for a conversation about the city he calls home, Indian tennis, and the growth of the sport in Asia. (An edited Serbian version of this interview was published by B92.)
When we talked, the final rosters for both teams were uncertain. Bopanna thought he’d be paired with Saketh Myneni, with whom he’d played—and won—doubles rubbers during India’s previous two ties, and the status of the ATP #1 was up in the air. While the rest of the Serbian team was preparing to compete without their singles star, Novak Djoković spoke about both what it means to him to participate in Davis Cup and the decision he was weighing: “Of course playing for the country is something that awakens a real passion in me and a sense of. . . belonging and really positive emotion and drive. But [on] the other hand, I also have a very important stage of my life. I’m about to become a father, so that’s something that is a priority now.” Given the “wait and see” situation, I started by asking Bopanna an obvious question.
AM: You said in an interview for the Davis Cup website that you think it’d be good for tennis if Novak comes to India, regardless of the outcome. But in the interest of your team winning, wouldn’t it be better if he didn’t come?
RB: You can’t think like that. At the end of the day, he’s been such a great player for his country and won the Davis Cup title with them. Not only that: if you look at it that way, we wouldn’t want any of the top players competing. Davis Cup is such a format that the rankings never matter—I mean, on one given day there can be many upsets. If you saw the last one, Wawrinka was playing Golubev in Switzerland and that was a big upset.
So, I think it’d be great for Indian tennis—not only if Novak’s playing, but even if he’s just there as part of the team. Tennis needs encouragement in our country and having a such a great player like him come and participate in an event like this would be wonderful, no matter what. Of course, it’ll be much tougher, no doubt: their team goes up from 10 to 20 with Novak on it. But we have to be ready for the best team to come to India and play. The thing is that before Thursday, they can still change the nominations.
AM: It’ll partly depend on what happens here, of course.
RB: Exactly. And Novak isn’t thinking of Davis Cup right now, because this is such a big event.
AM: There’s the US Open on this end and his baby’s due-date on the other.
RB: Yeah, he has a lot of things going on.
Since then, Leander Paes was called in to play his fifty-first tie for India and Djoković, after a disappointing semifinal loss to Kei Nishikori in New York, opted to skip the play-off to recuperate for the final stretch of the season and spend time with his expectant wife, Jelena. Luckily, Bopanna and I discussed more than how the two teams match up.
AM: Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be able to attend the tie, though I’d love to see India. But I’m still curious: what would you tell Serbs visiting Bangalore (or Bengaluru, as the locals call it) for the first time?
RB: I live in the city! The first thing is that language is not a problem, because everyone speaks English; so, that’s a big bonus when you’re going to a new place. I know a lot of people do speak English in Serbia, as I’ve been there. Of course, there are a lot of great restaurants around the city, many different cuisines to sample. Bengaluru is known for its breweries as well, so people who like to drink beer will enjoy that.
Though it’s called the Garden City of India, do expect a lot of people on the road, a lot of traffic and honking. That’s normal—it doesn’t matter which city in India you go to. We are used to it, of course, living there; but if you come from a country that doesn’t have all that it can be a bit overwhelming. There are various different categories of hotels and the hospitality in India is always very good—the service is good, so that’s a good thing to expect. People in Bengaluru love tennis, so I think there will be a great crowd, too, to come watch the tie.
There are a number of connections between members of the Indian and Serbian squads. Most notably, Nenad Zimonjić has partnered Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi, collecting trophies with both men. Two other Serbs, Janko Tipsarević and Bozoljac, have also had success with Indian partners, winning titles with Paes and Devvarman, respectively. While Tipsy kicked off both the 2012 and ‘13 seasons with quality runs in Chennai, this year was Bozo’s turn for a hot streak in India: he made the semifinals in New Delhi and won the Kolkata Challenger. Not least, the two nations have this in common: they’ve both produced remarkable results in tennis despite not having the world-class infrastructure of some of their Davis Cup rivals.
AM: Obviously, it’s a big deal to have Davis Cup at home, and I know you have the ATP 250 event in Chennai, as well as the series of Challenger tournaments in February. You have had so many top players in the past couple of decades, and a long tennis tradition as well, rooted in the British influence. How would you assess the current state of Indian tennis?
RB: I think there’s still a long, long way to go because our system is not really good. So, that is slowly picking up. [To give an example,] I have a physio from South Africa, Shayamal, traveling with me for a while and he’s now opened his own clinic in Mumbai, trying to help and get physios involved in tennis. Especially for an athlete, after training, you need a physio. So, even the awareness of that—plus fitness, along with coaching, and building a few more academies—makes for more progressive tennis. It’s going to take a while, I think, to really come up. There’s also good corporations coming out and helping a lot of these academies and teams, which raises awareness and gives everyone hope.
You know, in India it’s still the fact that people think, “Ok, so you’re playing tennis, but what else are you doing?” In India, the [professional] priorities are such that everybody needs to be either a doctor or an engineer—studying is such a big thing. A lot of people don’t realize that tennis could also be a living. And they don’t realize that it’s a full-time, committed career. . . It’s not a hobby.
Also, we have cricket in India—and it’s grown so much in recent years. Now, there are corporations trying to invest in other sports as well and trying to get recognition for them. So, tennis is still very much at the grass-roots level and needs a lot more building. Luckily, we have many more athletes coming up. . . . The fans are looking for new, different sports as well, which is nice.
AM: Speaking of other sports: in the US, there’s been some excitement about an Indian basketball player who’s going to be in the NBA, playing for the Sacramento Kings. Have you heard of him?
RB: That’s right, Sim Bhullar—I know because actually he’s the nephew of one of my friends. He was telling me when we were into Toronto [for the Rogers Cup] and they actually came to the tennis courts. My trainer took a picture with them and he’s about 5’8” and these guys are 7’5”!
AM: India, given its size, has a huge pool of potential talent that hasn’t necessarily been tapped. Will his being in the NBA make a big difference for basketball in India, like Yao Ming did in China?
RB: Definitely. I think it’s great. Hopefully, we have more of those 7-foot athletes—that’s not there in India so much. Even when I go back, at 6’3”, I’m considered above average, which I’m not when I’m traveling on the tennis tour! In tennis, I think 6’2” is the average. Especially for the NBA, you need the height.
AM: Among people in the former Yugoslavia—and not only tennis players—there’s certainly interest in forging ties with the East as well as the West. For instance, even before his Uniqlo sponsorship, Novak was quite attuned to the Asian market for tennis. Do you think the IPTL (promoted by former partner Bhupathi) is also going to help the growth of tennis in India and other parts of Asia?
RB: I think it’s going to be really good for Asia to have all these top athletes coming and playing night matches. And for us, as players, it’ll also be fun to be a part of it and playing on these different teams.
Three of Serbia’s biggest names have already signed on to play in the IPTL later this year: Djoković and Zimonjić (along with Croatian legend Goran Ivanišević) were selected by the UAE team, while Ana Ivanović is on the India team along with Bopanna, Sania Mirza, and Rafa Nadal. The league runs for two weeks, starting in late November.
Postscript: The day after this interview was published, the ITF announced that Rohan Bopanna will be one of the players honored with the Davis Cup Commitment Award this weekend.
What follows are two interviews in one. The first half contains excerpts from a conversation I had with Viktor Troicki at the 2012 Cincinnati Masters. The second half is a recent interview conducted by Nebojša Mandrapa, the tennis reporter for Serbian newspaper Večernje Novosti, who has kindly permitted me to post a translation. Troicki, considered a hero of Serbian tennis ever since he scored the clinching point in Serbia’s Davis Cup victory over France in 2010, was suspended from professional activity last July. (Those needing a refresher on his case, which led to his being sanctioned for violating the ITF’s anti-doping rules, can read my overview and other players’ reactions here.) He’ll return to action in just over a week, in all likelihood playing on the Gstaad clay for the first time in his career.
As fans of men’s tennis will recall, Troicki rode the wave of his team’s triumph all the way to a career-high ATP ranking of #12 in June 2011. Although he broke into the top 100 as a 22-year-old in 2008, and finished both 2009 and ‘10 within the top 30, it wasn’t until his first singles title in October 2010 and the Davis Cup win six weeks later that Troicki’s career really took off. In fact, many in Serbian tennis circles were surprised at just how fast and how high he rose, given that he had long played second fiddle to not only Novak Djoković but also Janko Tipsarević, who was a more talented junior player. Although Troicki’s time among the men’s tennis elite—thirty-four weeks in the top 20—was relatively brief compared to the elder Tipsy’s, it was Viktor who made more efficient progress up the ranks as a young pro and he who earned an individual title first.
1. “I just hope it happens again.”
When we sat down in what is technically Mason, Ohio, Troicki was feeling good after demolishing former #1 Lleyton Hewitt in straight sets. Knocking off top players wasn’t a new experience for Viktor (for instance, he beat Andy Roddick in the Washington quarterfinals back in 2008, when the American was #9), but he’d been having a difficult year. Though his recent struggles became our focus fairly quickly (even before I’d asked about them), we began by looking back to 2010.
AM: Can you compare winning the Davis Cup with winning your first ATP title about a month earlier? Together, they mark a key turning point in your career. (Troicki was ranked #54 before a semifinal run in Tokyo, #43 before the Kremlin Cup in mid-October, and #30 at the end of the regular season.) So, do you think of them together, as a sort of unit, or separately?
VT: Yes, definitely different things—totally different things. It also felt different. Of course, my first title gave me a lot of confidence. I played great that week in Moscow, beat some big names, and I think I played my best tennis at the end of that year.
Then, the Davis Cup finals came and, for sure, knowing that I had a title already and that I was playing very well, I was more confident than usual. I think that’s why I played very well in Davis Cup also. Winning Davis Cup was the biggest moment of my life—it was just a great experience. It felt unbelievable on the court, winning that last [rubber]. I just hope it happens again.* I mean, it’s the moment I’ll remember for the rest of my life—just an unbelievable experience.
AM: How was the first half of 2011 different from the previous few years—coming off of Davis Cup and rising to your career-high? (One thing that struck me here is how quickly Vik turned to the second half of the year—that is, to negative stuff. Even at the outset of his answer, it sounds like he’s brought down by what he knows is coming.)
VT: Well, I started 2011 great, continuing to play very well. I came to #12 in the world playing really good tennis. And then I had some matches where I. . . (sigh) had the chance to win, where I was very close to winning, for example against Murray at the French—I had a chance to go to the quarters, I was serving for it—and also in Montreal against Monfils, I had match points which I didn’t use.
So, all these. . . those two matches, like, [set] me back. I lost a bit of confidence and then I started to play less [well] than I was playing before; my ranking was dropping and I was losing some matches that I shouldn’t lose and I was unhappy. . . I would say 2011 was a year with ups and downs. Luckily, I hope, that’s over and I think I’m going to rise again in the rankings and get back to the top 20 and then, hopefully, go for the top 10.
AM: You talked about the effect of those two losses on your confidence, but is there anything else you want to add about why it’s been hard to maintain a high level consistently. I mean. . . people are going to say that you’re in a slump, right? But I don’t know if you think of it that way or not. When I look at your playing activity, there are actually only a few losses that jump out at me as unexpected—like Bucharest. Something like losses to Rosol no longer look weird after what he did at Wimbledon.
VT: It happens to every athlete—it happens that he has good days and bad days. (Sigh.) We all have ups and downs. I guess it’s normal for every tennis player also. I mean, the thing is to get out of it as quickly as you can, try not to think about it, and try to improve from those things—what you did wrong. So, I hope I’ve learned some things from those matches. I work hard every day to improve my game, so I hope these things won’t happen again.
AM: How much do you work on mental aspects of the game—not so much strategies or tactics, but things like positive thinking?
VT: Yeah, I had a person this year, during the tournaments in Europe, who I was talking to. We were doing some sessions—mental sessions, psychological treatments. He helped me a lot, I think. We did a good job and I still use those things.
AM: Did you guys actually identify, say, types of negative thinking?
VT: We talked about not just tennis, but how to make life a nice place—to enjoy life, to be happy on the court. Sometimes when I was on the court and I was losing, I was really not happy. When it was not going my way, I was pretty unhappy—those were the things that were maybe not helping me. So, we tried to improve that and to start thinking positive on the court, even if it’s not going well. Hopefully, I’ll still improve on that point.
AM: What do you consider your best or most satisfying performance of the year? Dusseldorf strikes me, since it was several wins in a row. . .
VT: Well, I played Wimbledon fourth round, which was my best Wimbledon so far. I reached the fourth round (lost to Novak), which was a good result for me. Beating Juan Monaco, I also played a good match there. Maybe [today] was the best win, against Hewitt: to beat him 6-2, 6-0 was pretty surprising, even for me, and I think I played very well. But my best tournament, I would say, was Wimbledon.
AM: You won a couple five-set matches in a row—arguably, it’s especially important to get through those.
VT: Definitely, definitely. Actually, I made a record in Grand Slams for most consecutive five-setters. So, it’s definitely a good thing when you’re winning those important matches, when it’s really tight—it means a lot and gets your confidence back.
* “I just hope it happens again.” This line is especially poignant in light of the fact that a requisite part of “it”—Serbia making another Davis Cup final—did happen again (in 2013), only not for Viktor. Due to his suspension, he was able neither to play nor even to cheer on his teammates from inside the Belgrade Arena. Watching the final two rounds on tv from home was, understandably, an emotional experience for Troicki: “When Janko dedicated the [semifinal] tie to me and Novak took the microphone and got the stadium to shout ‘Viktor,’ I had a breakdown and started crying like never before in my life.”
It wasn’t only Troicki who suffered through those ties, however. Due to his and the injured Tipsarević’s absences, Team Serbia was significantly undermanned when they faced Czech Republic in the final.
2. Making Up for Lost Time
Speaking with Mandrapa in Belgrade last week, Troicki was both bursting with motivation to return to the top ranks of the ATP and anticipating mixed emotions when he steps on court at his comeback tournament.
Q: What will you be feeling when you return to action?
VT: From the wish to show that they were wrong to suspend me, to the hope of proving to myself that I can do even better than before— above all, a desire to make up for lost time… All of these emotions and much more will be present. To be honest, I don’t know myself how it’ll be on court in the beginning, until I get used to it. At the same time, all my points will be gone by July 21 and I’ll be starting from scratch, completely from scratch. However, I often remember a very good saying, “Once a doctor, always a doctor.” That’s why I haven’t given up on tennis: because it’s who I am.
Q: This period, from July 2013 until today, did it feel like an eternity?
VT: Too long, I’d say. It was hard for me without tournaments, very hard. But, I have to admit, some moments were nice and interesting, too. I had time for everything. Now, I’m completely recovered mentally, and not so nervous and burdened with all of this like at the beginning. When [the CAS tribunal] made their decision to uphold my suspension, it was a huge shock. But since then, I thought about it all in peace—about the future, not so much about everything that happened.
“If you run into the [Doping Control Officer from last year] at a tournament, what would you say to her?”
“It’s better that you don’t know. They [presumably, the ATP] will see that this doesn’t happen; but the woman continued to do her job, even though she’s a total amateur (not to say something harsher). I think it’s too bad that she continued to work without any consequences, even though the [CAS] judgment stated that she also bears some blame, because of poor instructions and irresponsibility. I don’t know what would happen—I just hope that I’ll never meet her again in my life.”
Q: Have you had any psychological help to overcome all these difficulties?
VT: I tried, but I didn’t like it too much. I realized that it was all up to me. If I sort out the dice in my head, then that’s that—and I don’t need someone else’s help. If I manage to straighten myself out, that’s enough.
Q: You mentioned that the year was, at times, interesting. What did you have in mind?
VT: I went skiing four times last winter—more days skiing than ever before in my life. I wanted to catch up on things I love and haven’t had much chance to do. Often, I’d play football with the guys—we had an indoor league. And I went on a couple of trips with Nole, including my first time in South America, which was interesting. Then, when I started to train, I also accompanied Djoković to a few tournaments he played, so I’ve practiced with him a lot.
Q: Was it difficult for you to find sparring partners, players with whom to practice?
A: Exactly; that’s exactly right. But Novak helped me there, too. Mostly, I worked with him—in Monte Carlo, or during tournaments in Dubai and Miami. I also sparred with our younger players: Lajović, Krajinović, Milojević in Belgrade.
Q: What were you working on, looking to improve?
VT: For the last four months, I’ve really practiced a lot. Luckily, both members of my team—coach [Jack] Reader and [fitness trainer/ physiotherapist Miloš] Jelisavčić—are still with me. In some areas, I feel progress, but I’m lacking competitive play: points and other match situations. That’ll come eventually, after a couple of tournaments. I can’t claim that it’ll all be in place by the first tournament (at that point, everything will probably still be totally strange), but I hope it’ll be sorted out as soon as possible.
Q: Due to the loss of ranking points, you won’t have direct entry to the biggest tournaments at first?
VT: Some tournament organizers have kindly offered me a wild card. I won’t play at the major events. Right now, we’re waiting for confirmation from Gstaad, and I’ll definitely participate in the Italian Challengers, four or five tournaments which coincide with the US hard-court season. Novak will try to help me with securing wild cards for the Asian swing. If he succeeds, that would be great.
Q: Serbia’s Davis Cup team heads to India in mid-September for a World Group playoff. Will it be with or without you?
VT: I honestly don’t know what to say. It doesn’t fit into my schedule at all. At that point in the season, I plan to play on clay, and I don’t feel like going to India. I’d be losing two weeks, not just one; I can’t play on the main tour if I don’t get wild cards and, just then, I’m planning to play some bigger tournaments. I hope the younger players will help and that they’ll be able to win the tie. We’ll see who’ll even be in a position to play. Maybe Tipsarević will manage to recover by then, but I think we’re the favorites no matter who plays.
In a New Year’s statement, however, Viktor had a slightly different perspective on whether a return to the tour or the opportunity to rejoin the Davis Cup team is more important to his comeback.
“Both things go hand in hand. If I’m able to win on the ATP tour level, then I’ll be a help to our team. Of course, coming back and playing Davis Cup in front of my home crowd will mean the real end of this chapter. Then I’ll be able to say that it’s behind me.”
Q: Are you fulfilled on a personal level—because that can have an impact on your results?
VT: Everything’s in the best possible order. My mother and father have been the biggest support my whole life. They always believed in me. There were also a few other people, like Neša Trifunović, who’ve been a lot of help. From them, I got valuable advice. They told me that a year is short period in life and that it’ll pass—that I have to survive mentally, to be even stronger and even better. I appreciate that. My parents are very excited that I’m returning to the court, although I won’t see them as much as in the past year.
Q: Do you believe you can do better than the #12 spot you once occupied?
VT: I don’t know, but I’ll try to prove I can. We’ll see how well I’ll succeed in that. Certainly, I’ll give my best—more than I gave before. My goal is to fight to the last point, and to get into the top 100 by the end of 2014. It won’t be easy; but if I start well, I think I have a chance. In the end, it’s all up to me.