Novak Djokovic by Peter Menzel, edited by Petar Milošević
Newly divorced, I was excited to be taking a plane trip by myself. Having boarded countless flights with my ex during our 41-year marriage, it was exhilarating to be flying to Portland, Maine to stay with a cousin for a few days. It was about noon on Monday, August 16th, 2010.
In Toronto, US Customs & Immigration agents process passengers on Canadian soil because there are so many of us flying to the United States. After checking into your flight, you haul your own luggage into a long line with other passengers, answer the agent’s questions, and if admitted, deliver your bag to the handlers. I pulled a small, wheeled suitcase.
Our single-file line of about a hundred travellers snaked back and forth, guided by chrome poles holding fabric tape at waist level. I believe it was the smart folks at Disney who dreamt up this method of moving large groups of customers and minimizing their impatience while waiting their turn. Every time you turn 180 degrees and stroll it feels as though you’re making headway – an optical illusion.
In 2010, I had not yet become addicted to checking my cellphone when bored so I just surveyed my compatriots and shifted my belongings as necessary.
The Rogers Cup (basically the Canadian Tennis Open) had just wrapped up at York University. I’d treated myself to an evening of live tennis earlier in the week, but was disappointed when my favourite player, Roger Federer, was not on my schedule. That’s the tricky thing about buying tennis tickets in advance; you don’t know for sure whom you will be watching, i.e. who will have survived the previous round.
When the final men’s singles tennis match was being played August 15th, I’d watched every minute on television in my new condo. Britain’s dour, earnest Andy Murray had beaten handsome, gentlemanly Roger Federer of Switzerland in straight sets (7-5, 7-5) to win the title. Poor Roger. I hoped he wouldn’t hold it against Canada.
There he was
About ten minutes into the line-up, a trio of travellers caught my eye. Two burly men in matching yellow short-sleeved shirts were guiding trolleys piled high with masses of sporting gear – including tennis-racquet-shaped bags. I recognized that their charge was the Serbian tennis player, Novak Djokovic.
At this point in time, he was just another professional tennis player, whose name I’d read when scanning Rogers Cup information. (Actually, he turned pro in 2003 at the age of 15. So that means he was only 22 when I spied him with his entourage.)
To me, his pre-serve routine was unique. Most players bounce the ball about three times before starting their serve windup. Novak bounced it anywhere from five to ten times, or even more. I’d lose count.
I decided to walk over and speak to him.
“Would you be kind enough to shift my suitcase as the line moves?” I asked the twenty-something man behind me in line. “I want to talk to someone I recognize.”
“No problem, miss.” I’m amused when someone calls senior-citizen-me “Miss.”
I strolled about eight metres to where Novak stood in line. No one in the vicinity displayed any recognition of this near-famous athlete. Our eyes met and I said, “Hello Mr. Djokovic. I’d just like to say what a super job you did at the Rogers Cup this week. I’m sure you’ll be back to win it in the future.”
He smiled and said, “Why, thank you! I’ve had a terrific time here in Toronto. It was a pleasure to play in your wonderful country.” We chatted a bit more about the pro tennis tour.
“Would you be kind enough to give me your autograph? It’s obvious you’ll be very famous very soon.” I was laying it on rather thickly, but he was so gentle and earnest. His gaze was mesmerizing.
Professional tennis tournaments are categorized into majors (Grand Slams) and others. The four majors are the Australian Open, French Open, Wimbledon, and US Open. Canada’s Rogers Cup is in the lesser 1000 category.
At that moment, Roger Federer had won three of the four majors and the ATP Finals in 2004, 2006, and 2007 as well as five consecutive titles at both Wimbledon and the US Open. Talk about dominance! I thought it was time for other contenders like Novak to start winning.
Rogers Cup tournaments for men and women annually alternate between Montreal and Toronto, so my ignorance can be forgiven. Little did I know that Novak had already won the Rogers Cup in 2007. Played in Montreal, he’d become the first man to defeat both Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer in the same event.
With a smile, Novak took my boarding pass and signed it. It was basically a large, messy scribble of many letters on top of one another. It’s still safely tucked away somewhere among my mementoes. Back in line, a couple of neighbours asked me who I’d been talking to.
Exemplary career
I’ve since learned that in 2008 he disrupted Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal’s streak of 11 consecutive majors by winning his first major title at the Australian Open, so his ascendency had already begun, although I was then unaware. As I write, he has racked up 24 major titles.
In July 2024, he lost the men’s Wimbledon final to Carlos Alcaraz, for the second consecutive year and then beat him to win the gold medal at the Paris 2024 Olympics. (His tearful, trembling reaction was something to behold, showing that this exceptionally driven athlete carries human emotions.)
Novak is still going strong at the age of 37. His August elimination from the US Open closed the Grand Slam season for him, marking the first year since 2017 that he didn’t win at least one major championship. Facing the gradual decline of such an exemplary career must be daunting.
Having evolved into a champion superstar, I doubt that Novak remembers our little conversation at the airport when I was the only person to recognize him. I wonder how much his autograph would fetch me on eBay.