The Big Interview: Novak Djokovic

From The Sunday Times
June 15, 2008

Paul Kimmage

Today’s Artois finalist is not your typical tennis player – he reads ‘proper’ books, loves opera and even spices up his blogs with some humour

I’ve known Djokovic for years because we grew up playing in the juniors together. I still speak to him and get on with him now we are on the tour together, but you get to the stage where you don’t want to be too close. Many people like his personality, including his famous impressions of other players. He does great take-offs of players’ serves. The best ones are Roddick and Sharapova, and Nadal tugging at his shorts. He’s been accused of arrogance on one or two occasions, but I wouldn’t want to say anything bad about him. Given that we’re rivals, we get on fine. — Andy Murray: Hitting Back.

Novak Djokovic reaches across the table and takes the copy of “Hitting Back”, Andy Murray’s recently published autobiography. “Very nice,” he exclaims, examining the cover with wonder, “I didn’t expect this.”

“You didn’t?” I inquire.

“No. He told me he’s not a book reader so I’m very surprised he wrote a book.”

“Do you read books?”

“I always take two or three books with me when I’m travelling.”

“What have you brought on this trip?”

“I’m reading a big book at the moment about Nikola Tesla — one of the great inventors of electricity 100 years ago. He was poisoned in the States, in Chicago, in a hotel. He was close to finishing a project, one of the most powerful weapons in civilisation, and they poisoned him and took the papers. It’s still today a national security secret.”

“Tesla?”

“Yes, N-i-k-o-l-a T-e-s-l-a. Our national airport in Belgrade is called after him; he’s one of our most appreciated people in history but he was living in the States and working in the States.
“He was very close to inventing the wireless transmission of electricity in those days, him and Edison, but not many people know Tesla. I’m just starting the book and getting involved in the story. I’m really curious about who killed him and why.”

“It sounds fascinating but it’s not exactly light reading?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s not a comic,” I explain. “It’s a serious book.”

“Yes.”

“You know, I had a hunch coming down here that I was going to like you.”

“You did?” he laughs, surprised.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you have two choices,” he says. “You either like somebody or you don’t like somebody.”

“That’s true,” I concur. “But you are supposed to ask why.”

“Okay, why?”

“Because of these.”
(I hand him a printed selection of his internet blogs.)

“Oh, you’ve been reading my diaries.”

“Yeah, great stuff,” I observe. “I love the style and the humour, the touch of ‘Borat’.”

“Well I like to have fun with it,” he says. “Most of my fans are younger people and I don’t think they want to read stuff like ‘I played a good match today. My forehand was going well. My backhand was not so good’. These things are not interesting. What is interesting is what the players are doing in the locker rooms. Are they good guys? Bad guys? How are they off court? Of course, I never go too far with these things but always to the limit, just to make them laugh. I get a lot of positive feedback.”

“I’m not surprised,” I say. “The good news is that if the tennis goes badly, you have a career in sportswriting.”

“Thanks,” he smiles.

“The bad news is that it doesn’t pay as well.”

WE MEET on a Tuesday afternoon in the players’ dining room at the Artois Championships at Queen’s. The man they call “The Djoker” is dressed for combat in a white shirt and shorts and awaits the arrival of his coach, Marian Vajda, before heading to the practice court.
I’ve been warned that he’s easily distracted and have positioned him in a chair facing the corner. He sits down for five seconds and starts to fidget. He’s not happy. We swap seats. It takes the Murray autobiography to get him focused. He picks it up. There’s no index. But within 30 seconds he has found the passage with his name.

Four days have passed since his semi-final defeat to Rafael Nadal at Roland Garros and he arrives on these shores after a two-day visit to Milan, where his girlfriend, Jelena Ristic, is completing a degree in economics. They met through some mutual tennis friends and have been dating for three years.

“The last two days were great,” he explains. “I relaxed with my girlfriend and friends and we talked about everything except tennis. During the French Open I didn’t feel mentally . . . fresh. You play so much and work so much and are focused so much that it is natural to need some rest. I feel much more positive now and look forward to the grass-court season.”

Home for “Artois” week is a plush hotel in Chelsea and then he is renting a property in Wimbledon for the championships. “I learnt a lesson last year,” he says. “I stayed at the Conrad in Chelsea Harbour — a nice hotel but it took forever to get to Wimbledon in traffic. And because of the rain I had a terrible schedule.

“I was one of the players hurt most by the weather; I played one match \ for five or six days! The waiting around on site was really tiring, better to have a house within walking distance so you can go and have a rest.”

“I’ve read that you enjoy golf,” I observe.

“I do. It’s become an obsession,” he says.

“And you’re a big fan of the opera?”

“Yes, but I don’t get a lot of time or chances to go. And I need someone I can share it with — you can’t go to the opera by yourself. There used to be Vittorio Selmi from the ATP \. Last year \ at Wimbledon, I went to his office and we sat down and listened to Don Giovanni on his laptop. I like classical music. It relaxes you and takes you to another world.”

“Do you enjoy London?” I ask.

“London has a special soul, a lot of tradition, a lot of history, especially in my profession. Tennis has become a sport from this country. When you step on the Wimbledon courts and you feel the grass, and you are privileged enough to be one of the first players to play on that grass, it feels great.
“You remember all of the winners and the history and that’s one of the things I adore about the English public . . . they take so much care about their history and their tradition, not just in tennis — even the small things like the taxis in the streets, so clean, and the same as they were years ago. And there are some parks which I really like. What I don’t like is the weather, which is always bad when I’m here.”

“You like Paris?”

“Paris is one of my favourite cities.”

“In your last diary from Roland Garros, you wrote that you were bored with some of the older guys in the locker room and spent some time with the junior kids ‘to remember what it was like’. Why? Explain that to me?”

“Well, maybe bored was a little strong . . . I just wanted to spend some time with the juniors to remind myself of how it used to be when I played. I know that wasn’t a century ago, I am on the tour for three years, but it feels like forever, and it was just nice to . . . the juniors look at you in a different way.
“They look at you with appreciation, you are their idol, and it was nice to be surrounded by them when they ask for some information or advice.”

“How do the older guys look at you?”

“The older guys look a bit different. I am their . . . rival, and so they look at me with certain goals of rivalry.”

“And how intense is the rivalry?” I ask. “John McEnroe said last year that one of the things he finds curious about you guys is that you all seem to get along. Is he right? Do you get along well with Roger and Rafael?”

“Yes I do, and I think that’s normal. Tennis is an individual sport and there is more room for conversations and for friendships. We see each other week after week, most of the time. We respect each other because we know what it takes to become a professional tennis player, especially at the top. It’s not good to get too close because you are trying to beat them, but there is rivalry of course. And you feel it. But there is no bad thoughts or negative energy.”

“Maybe you’re not haunted by the same demons McEnroe was,” I suggest.

“Yeah, well, this is probably a different era,” he says, “but I’ve been through some difficulties in the past.
“I was brought up in a very different environment than Andy Murray or Nadal . . . there was a lot of war, economic instability, and the country had a lot of problems.”

As Serbia plays diplomatic tug of war with breakaway Kosovo, the political sensibilities of Australian Open champion Novak Djokovic are rising to the surface. The 21-year-old has always had interests other than tennis, including alpine skiing and the finer arts of pizza-making, thanks to his family’s restaurant. But the dramatic developments in his home town have Djokovic concerned about the nation that has become the newest power in the game . . . Djokovic’s conviction was strong enough that he sent a video message urging a unified Serbia during an anti-Kosovo independence rally in Belgrade shortly after winning in Melbourne. “I wasn’t interested in politics, but this isn’t only politics, this is something really serious,” Djokovic said.

— Bill Scott, Tennis magazine.


He is telling me the story of his most vivid childhood memory. The date is May 22, 1999 and he has gathered with his family at their home in Belgrade for a small celebration . . .
“Happy birthday to you,
“Happy birthday to you,
“Happy birthday dear Noll-eh,
“Happy birthday to you.”
. . . Novak Djokovic is 12 years old.

Today, nine years later, he can still hear the singing when he closes his eyes but it’s the drone of the Nato bombers overhead that resonates most, as they prepare to unload on the thermo-electric power plant at Veliki Crljeni.

Soon, the walls of the city will vibrate and their home will be cloaked in darkness. What does he know or understand of war? No more than the slaughtered innocents of Bosnia. But he is learning about fear.

“I would wake at night during the bombings and look at my mother’s reaction and of course she would be afraid, so I would pray that nothing happened to us. It was a really terrible time. For 2Å months they bombed us every single night and I remember running with my family from one building to another, just to find a place for cover.”

His boyhood before that spring, when the Nato offensive was launched, was pretty idyllic. The eldest of Srdjan and Djiana’s three boys, he spent his summers, and large chunks of winters, at the mountain resort of Kapaonik, where his parents owned a restaurant and gave skiing lessons.
When Novak was four, three tennis courts were built in the resort and he began taking lessons from Jelena Gencic, a coach who had first honed the skills of Monica Seles.

“It was my destiny to play this sport,” he says. “I loved it from the start and really dedicated myself to it.”

In 1997, in the aftermath of the bombing, he spent his first sejour at the Nikola Pilic academy in Munich, where he would attend for two years. Had his war-time experiences that summer helped mould the future champion? Yes and no.

“I think in some ways it made me appreciate things more,” he says, “but did it make me a better tennis player? No, what made me a better tennis player was work on the tennis court.”

The work bore fruit. He won a host of underage and junior titles and was tipped as a future star. He was courted by the Lawn Tennis Association and offered the chance to ‘become’ British. He won his first ATP tournament in the Dutch city of Amersfort and won immediately after in Metz. The kid was on his way, the first of a new breed of talented, handsome champions . . . Made in Serbia.

I remind him of the perception of Serbia, and Serbians, as a result of the war. “I wouldn’t call it flattering,” I suggest. “How difficult has that been for you?”

“When I started to travel as a junior, I always had the impression that people stepped back when they heard where you were from. They were scared. They didn’t know what to expect from you. Our country had a bad reputation in the world because of the people who led the country in certain periods. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t have much to do with my country. I didn’t need them to succeed. But I love my country and I am proud of where I am coming from. People are hungry for success, for some positive brightness in their lives, for me it’s a challenge and I think I’m doing well to present my country in a nice way. And that’s what I like to do.”
“In one of your diaries, you mention being criticised by a politician for not respecting the national flag during a Davis Cup match in Belgrade. What was his problem?”

“It was after a doubles match on the second day. We drew a big heart on the (clay) court and placed our flag inside the heart. There were 20,000 people in the arena that day. It was a great gesture from us but some jealous guy, who was looking for exposure, criticised us during a discussion in the parliament. He said the flag is a symbol of our country and should not be placed on the floor. It was ridiculous.”

“Is it ever a strain carrying the flag for Serbia? Does it add to the stress?”

“It’s an added responsibility, I think, but not a stress. I feel proud when I take my flag, but it adds to the responsibility because a lot of people rely on you and you have to be careful what you do and what you say and how you act in public. But it’s all part of what every successful athlete has to deal with.”

“You were criticised recently for your comments on Kosovo?”

“Yes.”

“Your Dad was born there?”

“Yes, my Dad was born there; my uncle was born there; my aunt was born there; my grandfather lived there for 30 years so we have a lot of history there. It’s also the centre of Serbian history, the cradle of Serbian humanity and it just . . . it just feels bad when you see that taken away from you, especially from the side of my father who lived there for a long time. There is not much we can do. I can say the things I say to you now, but you just have to accept the way it is. I don’t want to expose my opinion on that too much because they will use it against me.”

“Is it harder to remain faithful to yourself, to your true personality, the closer you get to the top?”

“I’m trying not to change. I want to try be a down-to-earth guy who is friendly and communicative, but it does get harder. There are places you can no longer visit; you have less and less privacy.”

“What about the tennis? When you were 17, you said it was your ambition to be No 1?”

“I’ve been saying that since I was six. I didn’t want to be unrealistic but I’ve always believed that it was something I can achieve and every day I get closer. Even if I don’t make it I’ll be happy because I dedicated my life to a great sport, lived my life in a great way, but there is still plenty of time. I am only 21.”

“The win in Australia was obviously a big step toward that?”

“Yes, it was a big step forward for my confidence and my belief. Before that win in the Australian Open, I was a great player who had the potential to be a Grand Slam winner. But I wasn’t a Grand Slam winner, that was the difference. But I’m happy to have done it. This is the dream for every professional.”

“And to win a second?”

“That’s the goal. It’s something I really want. Hopefully I can make it in Wimbledon because this is my favourite one; I like to play on grass but maybe my game is not suitable; I don’t get to the net as much as I should. The grass is much slower than it used to be, so the baseline players are having more success than serve and volley players so that’s encouraging for me. I’m not in a rush. I will take it step by step. I’ve won my first Grand Slam and it’s not a priority to win a second this year. I just want to try to be consistent.”

“What about the tag of ‘The Djoker’? Do you like that?”

“I wouldn’t like it if people looked at me as more of a joker than a tennis player. I like when people accept me as I am and make positive comments about what I do on the tennis court, this is my goal. I want to promote myself as a big champion. Personality wise, I know I do some things that a lot of players won’t do but this is me.”

“The impersonations?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a pressure now to keep doing them?”

“Yeah, people put pressure on me, but I’m not going to do it officially on the court any more. I do it for fun, for me and my coach. I just like to have fun in practice sometimes.”

“How are your victims with it? How’s Andy Roddick?”

“No, they are fine. I practised with him last year in Wimbledon and he started to make fun of me, and my bouncing, so we had fun.”

“And Maria?”

“She’s okay with it. Everybody is okay. Maybe Roger was a bit \ with it, but that’s something I don’t want. I said, ‘Look guys, I’m not going to do it any more. I don’t want to provoke negative opinion or comments’.”

“Because that hurts your tennis?”

“Exactly, it hurts everything.”

Marian Vajda, his Slovakian coach, arrives and pulls up a chair. “I hope he is not telling you dirty jokes,” he smiles.

“No, he’s been teaching me how to speak Czech,” I reply.

“Look at this,” Djokovic announces, waving Murray’s book.

“He wrote a book!” Vajda gulps, incredulous.

“He doesn’t read a book but he writes a book,” Djokovic smiles. “It’s a nice book.”

“Oh it’s nice,” the coach agrees.

And for the first time since we sat down, you suspect he might be hamming it.


Djokovic’s rise to the top

Won January’s Australian Open to become the first Serbian to win a Grand Slam singles title and the youngest player in the open era to reach the semi-finals of all four Grand Slam tournaments
His highest ranking is No3 and he has spent 11 months behind only Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal after ascending to third spot on July 9, 2007

When Novak made a big impression on Maria

Flushing Meadows, September 2007. Novak Djokovic has just beaten Carlos Moya in the US Open quarterfi nals and is on his way to his fi rst Grand Slam fi nal, where he will lose to Roger Federer. After asking him about his win on the night, the American TV presenter then asks the Serb if he will entertain the crowd with a few impressions of his fellow tennis stars. After a little gentle persuasion, he obliges. First up is Maria Sharapova. Djokovic hitches up his shorts as if wearing one of the Russian’s skirts, bounces from foot to foot before standing bolt upright, poised on the service line. After a few theatrical deep breaths, a studious parting of the hair and an exaggerated bouncing of the ball, he lets out a yelp as he serves. Next up is Rafael Nadal. This time, Djokovic lowers his shorts, rolls his shirt sleeves up to his shoulders and sprints around the court to warm up. Pretending to push back his long hair, he excitedly fi dgets with his shorts, rubs the ball feverishly on his thigh and serves, then pumps his fi st at winning an imaginary point. The crowd were won over, though Djokovic wasn’t sure it was the right move: “I need to say in the last two days the people were more congratulating me for the impressions than for my tennis. I was wondering, ‘Guys, am I here for the impersonation, entertaining, or to play tennis?’” It didn’t stop him from giving a repeat performance in Australia, in January, however. Federer, whom Djokovic has also impersonated (Pete Sampras, Andy Roddick and Goran Ivanisevic make up the rest of his act), has said: “I know some guys weren’t happy. Some guys might think it’s funny - he’s walking a tightrope, for sure.” Sharapova has also offered to do her own impression of Djokovic: “We’d need a really long time because all I’ll need is a tennis ball and I’m just going to stand here and bounce the ball for a really long time before I serve. We’re going to be here all day long.”