Another Brick in the Wall

Andy Murray flailed at a backhand as he staggered into the doubles alley. His weight was moving sideways, and his feet were never set; not surprisingly, the ball flew long. After watching it sail, he turned to his player box, shook his head, and appeared to mutter, “Don’t say anything. It can’t help.”

Murray’s words may have been downbeat, but it was hard to disagree with them. At this point, there doesn’t seem to be a solution, for the Scot or anyone else, to the man who was across the net from him, Novak Djokovic. On Sunday, Murray lost the Australian Open final to Djokovic for a fourth time, 6-1, 7-5, 7-6 (3). As he did in those other three defeats, Murray spent this match’s two hours and 50 minutes looking like a man trying, with increasing exasperation, to defeat a brick wall. As anyone who has practiced against one of them knows, whatever shot you can hit, a wall will happily hit one back earlier, harder, and more accurately.

By calling Djokovic a brick wall, I don’t mean to imply, as some have, that he’s a one-dimensional player or a human backboard. I mean to say that, right now, at the peak of his powers, his talent is all-encompassing—he’s a wall of skill. In his last two matches in Melbourne, Djokovic faced the second- and third-ranked players in the world, and his superiority over both was evident from beginning to end.

Djokovic plays a controlled and meticulous game; there’s nothing fancy or theatrical—nothing unnecessary—about his shotmaking. But that doesn’t mean he lacks a variety of ways of winning points or overcoming opponents. You could see that versatility in the way he won the first two sets over Murray.

As he had in the semis against Federer, Djokovic came out hitting with a freedom and force that until now has been associated with the way he finishes big matches, not how he starts them. In his opening service game, Djokovic saved a break point with a full-cut crosscourt backhand, and two games later he held with a perfectly measured drop shot and a forehand winner. When Murray tried to mix it up and go for broke on his second-serve return, Djokovic anticipated it. Early on, he caught Murray out of position by sliding his second serve up the T instead of kicking it wide.

“I started with great efficiency from both corners,” Djokovic said. “I started as well as I did against Roger. You start with a 6-1 set, you start to feel more comfortable.”

The sound of Djokovic talking about how nice it is to win opening sets 6-1 is not something his opponents should want to hear.

The second set was more typical of a Murray-Djokovic final. The rallies and games lengthened as they traded service breaks and momentum. Unfortunately for Murray, the way Djokovic won it, with a mix of hard-nosed patience and quick-strike opportunism, was also more typical of their past matches. Serving at 5-5, 40-0, Murray missed what seemed at the time to be an innocuous backhand. But it was all the opening Djokovic needed. He followed it with a forehand winner, ground out a 36-shot rally, passed an exhausted Murray at the net at deuce, and, finally, on break point, put a return of serve smack on Murray’s baseline. In the span of five minutes, the match had gone from competitive to all-but-over.

“The second set was decided in a few points...” Djokovic said. “I knew coming into the match against Andy I’m going to have to be patient and construct the point. It wasn’t possible at all times because he would change up the tactics and he was playing better in the third, but just the big points I managed to find a way.”

Still, the end of the second set also showed that Djokovic, his machine-man reputation to the contrary, can succumb to nerves. Serving at 6-5, he went up 30-15; two more points and the title was essentially his. Was it a coincidence that, with the trophy suddenly in sight, he committed two double faults in a row (he only had three for the entire match)? Probably not.

Still, he bounced back to hold.

How many times has Djokovic broken serve at 5-5 or 5-6? How many back-and-forth sets have looked lost but eventually gone his way? Djokovic has nerves like everyone else, but at this point in his career he has a bedrock sense of confidence—of "conviction," as he puts it—like no one else.

“I think the experience of playing so many matches against these guys,” Djokovic said, “being on the big stage, knowing what’s at stake, knowing the importance and value of these tournaments and fighting for the trophy, I think that helps.”

As for Murray, he described the last two weeks as “hard.” He had spent them thinking about his pregnant wife back home, as well as her father, Nigel Sears, who was hospitalized during the tournament. Murray chalked up his loss in the final to inconsistency.

“I saw some of the stats just at the end of the match,” he said. “He won 25 more points than me, 26 more points. I had 25 or 26 more unforced errors.”

It wasn’t Murray’s night. He came out flat, having played a five-set semifinal one day after Djokovic played his. (Is it time for the Aussie Open to rethink this scheduling system? Historically, in finals, the player who wins the second semi hasn’t done any better or worse than the player who wins the first semi—the record before this year was 7-7—but Murray struggled to get out of the gates.)

Murray was also the victim of some overly safe officiating by chair umpire Carlos Ramos. Twice on key points Djokovic hit first serves that landed long and were called in; twice Murray lost the point and complained. This is the downside of Hawk-Eye, which allows the umpire to leave it up to the player to challenge. The second of Djokovic’s missed serves was far enough long that it should have been overruled.

As Murray said, though, no amount of help, from his camp or the chair umpire, was going to do much good on this night. Increasingly, when anyone faces Djokovic, he’s facing the tide of tennis history, too. This was the Serb’s 11th major title, which ties him with Rod Laver and Bjorn Borg on the all-time list. Tennis air doesn’t come any more rarefied than that, but Djokovic is starting to get comfortable breathing it.

“It’s encouragement, incentive,” he said, “coming to the court knowing I can make history.”

It’s too early to say where Djokovic fits in the GOAT debate—let’s wait until the Serb, Federer, and Rafael Nadal are all retired before we try to make any definitive judgements, please—but the sporting world, perhaps a little belatedly, may be starting to recognize Djokovic for the historical figure he’s becoming. As he sat for an interview with ESPN after the match, a huge crowd gathered below and chanted his name. When the talk was over, he tossed his shoes to them.

Djokovic has slipped and slid in shoes like those over the years, but these days he's always the last man standing. This wall is only getting harder to climb.