MELBOURNE, Australia – Novak Djokovic’s flat verbal salvo was catnip to Nick Kyrgios, who made a cheerful return. “Scared,” he muttered softly, “nailed.”
Kyrgios made his point at an Australian Open press conference, not on the field, where he last faced Djokovic in 2017. For months and across time zones, the men competed in what amounts to the longest rally of the season, a snark seesaw that captivated audiences into the catty Real Housewives of Melbourne vibe.
Kyrgios called Djokovic “a resource”. Djokovic said he has no respect for Kyrgios out of court. Kyrgios called Djokovic “a very strange cat.” A tired Djokovic sighed and said, “Great.”
The ball was back in Kyrgios’ field on Wednesday, but he was too exhausted after his thrilling five-set comeback win over 29th seeded Frenchman, Ugo Humbert, to make another swipe at Djokovic, who is also through to third round of Friday.
Any other year, a war of words between the two would be just as exciting as a plastic knife fight. Djokovic is the eight-time defending champion and number 1 in the men’s world who will match (and probably pass) Roger Federer’s record of 310 weeks at the top next month.
Kyrgios is in 47th place with six ATP titles. He’s never made it past the quarter-finals in a Grand Slam event and is known more for his meltdowns than any other milestones. Kyrgios’ win against Humbert provided a three-hour tour of his jagged internal terrain; the brilliant shots and the warlike storms that left a crushed racket, two code violations and an earful of expletives.
“If you were in my head there were some dark thoughts,” Kyrgios admitted.
Every other year, even in his home Slam, Kyrgios, a Canberra resident, would be the tantrum in the grain aisle that gave all the adults a spacious cage. But this is the first Australian Open to be played since the coronavirus pandemic, stopped sports and closed schools, displaced people and residents, and closed state and international borders.
Kyrgios, 25, who has a residence in the Bahamas, was lounging in his childhood home in Australia’s capital during the five-month cut-off of competition due to the coronavirus. His exposure to Australia’s rigorous one-for-all, all-for-one approach to the pandemic, one that included social distance, masks and hand washing, as well as testing, contact tracking, restricted interstate travel, curfew and incarceration, broadened his perspective beyond the me-for-me, me-for-me mantra of top sport.
The bad boy at Tennis became his social media bard, giving voice to the hardships he saw all around him. He helped wherever he could, whether it was raising money for forest fire survivors or buying and distributing food to households in his hometown.
On the other side of the world, the reigning king of tennis also looked out for his community. Djokovic, 33, was squatting in Serbia, one of the European countries mildly affected by the pandemic. A millionaire many times over, Djokovic recognized the financial difficulties facing lower-ranking players, which he sought to improve by hosting and headlining a two-week, four-city Balkan exhibition tour in June.
Serbia’s lockdown was lifted, but the lack of social distance during the events, which drew large crowds, and the photos emerging of shirtless tennis stars dancing all night in clubs, offended players who were lonely and locked in their homes. When three coaches, two women and four players, including Djokovic, tested positive for the coronavirus, leading to the event’s cancellation, the backlash was swift.
The leader of the verbal attack was Kyrgios, who denounced the tour as a “dumb decision” and suggested that Djokovic, as the best player in the game, should be held accountable for his actions.
When the ATP season resumed in August, Kyrgios closed because he did not want to travel. And so it was only last month, when Djokovic arrived in Australia and began a mandatory 14-day quarantine, that the bubble of Kyrgios and the bubble of Djokovic collided with the full view of Australian journalists in dire need of a frothy distraction .
Djokovic, who had resigned as chairman of the ATP Player Council last summer to help start what he described as a complementary players’ organization, was on the line with dozens of players carrying out their quarantine problems.
Djokovic collected their complaints and sent Craig Tiley, the CEO of Tennis Australia, a list of the requests, including relaxation of the quarantine period and access to private homes with tennis courts, similar to what players could get in New York at their own expense. at the United States Open last year.
“I offered to help with my position, my status, my name, with my connection to Craig, this group of over 100 players who communicated daily about the things they were missing,” Djokovic said this week.
Djokovic’s message, which he said was only for Tiley’s eyes, was leaked and Kyrgios called Djokovic because he didn’t appreciate the Australian public’s sacrifices that made the tournament possible.
An Australian reporter asked Djokovic for his response. He said that Kyrgios, who he described as “someone who is different”, is good for the sport.
“I respect him,” said Djokovic. “I respect everyone because everyone has the right and freedom to choose how they want to express themselves.”
He added that he appreciates Kyrgios’ “big game” but doesn’t have much respect for him off the field. Like courier pigeons, Australian news media members brought a Twitter version of Djokovic’s message to Kyrgios.
“He says he has no respect for you,” said one reporter. “Would you like to say something?”
“He’s a very strange cat, Novak is,” said Kyrgios. “Heck of a tennis player, but unfortunately someone who is partying with his shirt off during a global pandemic, I don’t know if I can give that guy some slack.”
At Djokovic’s next press conference, Kyrgios’ words were read word for word. “Great,” Djokovic replied dismissively.
Did he have anything to add? “No,” he said.
The next shot can be delivered on the track. They could meet in the semifinals, where their different playing styles reflect their personality. Kyrgios is aggressive, impulsive and, as befits someone who is easily distracted, armed with a game built for short points.
Djokovic has a cartographer’s zeal for precision and discipline. He accepts suffering as the way to enlightenment and is a stubborn, sincere defender who can deftly attack from seemingly untenable positions.
In their verbal exchanges, Djokovic goes on the defensive while Kyrgios hits back every barb like a half volley between his legs.
Djokovic cannot win to win; his 17 Grand Slam titles are the third most in men’s history after Rafael Nadal and Federer, who both have 20, and yet he travels the world as the third wheel in the love affair between two men.
And Kyrgios cannot win by losing. In the second round, he said, he was able to avert a match point to win the fourth set and then take the fifth because he thought the headlines were lost, ‘almost scared,’ he said, ‘ to take all that negativity ‘in.’
Are Djokovic and Kyrgios really that different?
Each of them spent part of Thursday in Melbourne Park looking for fellow countrymen. Djokovic cheered on Olga Danilovic, whom he accompanies. Kyrgios looked at his doubles partner Thanasi Kokkinakis.
Djokovic could have spoken for both when he said he was never “the man who wants to fit in the box”.
It’s not difficult to picture Kyrgios with his racket up and applauding him.