Novak Djokovic deserves a Jimmy Connors moment

These are the days that try Novak Djokovic’s soul, no easy feat considering the Serbian trooper’s trademark stoicism.

Djokovic hasn’t won a singles title since the Paris Olympics last summer. He lost his first match in his two most recent tournaments, both important Masters events/Grand Slam tune-ups. Both men who beat him, Alejandro Tabilo and Matteo Arnaldi, are ranked outside the Top 30.

“It’s a completely different feeling from what I had in 20-plus years of professional tennis,” Djokovic admitted after absorbing his most recent loss, in Madrid. “Kind of a new reality for me”

Then, stolid as ever, he added, “Look, I cannot sit here and complain about my career or anything. I’m not doing that.”

Djokovic deserves praise. He deserves empathy. He deserves the superb, healthy body that appears to have deserted him as he closed on—and then vaulted—the hurdle of his 37th year. Djokovic reached the semifinals at the Australian Open before once again experiencing the flesh-and-blood equivalent of metal fatigue, this time a muscle tear in his left leg. Later, an eye infection that hampered his performance in the Miami Open final.

Djokovic deserves many things, and some might even say he deserves to win that 100th tournament (he’s mired at 99), and a 25th major that would make him the undisputed, asterisk-free Grand Slam singles champion of all time (he is currently tied with Margaret Court).

Of course, sports, the ultimate meritocracy, doesn’t work that way. But Djokovic does deserve one further moment of glory—a Jimmy Connors moment. A riveting, improbable run on a big stage when the consensus opinion is that he is no longer relevant. Djokovic isn’t quite there yet, but then tennis is a fast-moving, amnesia-based enterprise.

Connors, who won 109 titles including eight singles majors, turned 39 during the 1991 US Open, which he entered as a wild card due to a ranking of No. 174. Embraced by the sensation-loving New York crowd, he powered to the semifinals—working the fans with his bombastic antics, flabbergasting opponents, and entwining a global audience in his bid to record a rare win over father time.

But Connors wasn’t the only hero to leave the stage with a mic drop. The ultimate example was provided by that other stoic, Pete Sampras. In 2002, at just 31 years old, the most prolific of all male Grand Slam singles champions (13 titles, at the time) was clearly slipping.

Sampras had dropped to No. 17 by the US Open. But driven by the undeclared inner conviction that he still had a big win in him, he mastered his own doubts and those of others and unexpectedly won the tournament—and never swung a racquet in anger again.

The man from whom Sampras took his pound of flesh in that final was Andre Agassi, who would soon stage a spectacular farewell of his own. He was ranked No. 39 when he played his final match at the 2006 US Open. Anyone who witnessed his fourth-round loss to Benjamin Becker—or the ensuing, pitch-perfect retirement speech he then made, on-court—will never forget that emotional, inspirational moment.

It’s too early to predict Djokovic’s retirement. Or is it? The man himself was extraordinarily frank and uncharacteristically succinct in his post-match interview in Madrid. He conceded that this may have been his last appearance as a player in the Spanish capital. He also reminded everyone of his still-intact, overarching ambition.

“I was saying many times, [Grand Slams] are the most important tournaments for me and the ones where I really want to play the best tennis,” he said. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do that in Roland Garros, but I’ll do my best.”

The doubt in Djokovic’s assessment was palpable, any confusion he feels modulated and protected by a veneer of reasonableness. But he also said of his recent decline and what it bodes: “I guess, [that’s] the circle of life and the career. . . eventually it was going to happen.”

Djokovic doesn’t “need” another major title, or a “Connors moment,” any more than Taylor Swift needs another No. 1 hit. But wouldn’t it be satisfying and appropriate for Djokovic’s career to end in a burst of glory?