John McEnroe, who knows a thing or two about this sort of thing, said it was one of the best shots he had ever seen. The man who played it said it was a gamble, and it clearly broke the spirit of the man who received it. It was Novak Djokovic’s return of serve at 15-40 down, when Roger Federer was serving for the match in the deciding set of their utterly compelling semi-final at Flushing Meadow. Clearly thinking he had nothing to lose, and moving into some zen state of relaxation, Djokovic launched himself at a hard, fast serve wide to his forehand and unleashed a bullet that just dipped, unplayable, inside the sideline. It was quite as sensational as Carla Bruni’s jeans in Woody Allen’s charming back-to-his-best latest, Midnight in Paris.
Djoko then did a remarkable thing. Normally when he psychs himself the routine is of the chest-thumping, ‘I love Mother Serbia, and my village might be in ruins, but I will fight back, and maybe Slobo wasn’t such a bad thing after all…’ variety. This was much more reflective. He turned to the crowd in the volcanic Arthur Ashe stadium (surely one of the three best places in the world to watch sport) with his arms outstretched, almost ruefully, as if saying, ‘Look, that was some shot. I know you’re all rooting for Roger, and I’m sure I’m going to lose, but I’m not such a bad player after all.’ And then you could sense, almost see, the crowd moving behind Djoko, who had by this point recovered from being two sets down against a Federer playing out of his skin. As he crouched to receive, now at 30-40 down, he was smiling, he’d done his bit, he didn’t mind if he lost.
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