Novak Djokovic spying allegations are on brand for tennis’s weirdest superstar

Perhaps aware that he will never be loved and adored like his long-time rivals Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal, he characterises himself as the great disruptor, writes Jim White. No one likes him, and he doesn’t care

The man is a genuine weirdo (Getty)

One evening earlier this week, a member of Novak Djokovic’s coaching team noticed someone paying a little too much attention to their man’s training session. There on the fringes of Wimbledon’s practice court was a middle-aged bloke blatantly filming what was going on.

More to the point, this was not just a passing member of the public. This was the father of the tournament’s number one seed Carlos Alcaraz. And Carlos Alcaraz Senior seemed to be busying himself recording the champion’s every move.

Cue Serbian outrage. Djokovic had already complained about the tradition of allowing the public access to the practice courts on Aorangi Park. He felt this was a wholly unnecessary invasion of his privacy, a privilege too far for the paying public. As if to prove his point, here was the relative of his principal rival spying on what he was up to. Djokovic and his team were furious.

“The fact is that you are not completely relaxed in training,” he explained in his next press conference. “You know your rivals are there, you know everyone is looking over your shoulder at what’s going on, what you’re working on. Every shot is measured, evaluated and assessed. That, through some analysis, affects the eventual meeting with Alcaraz or anyone. Concentration is required. For me, training is like a match. I bring that intensity to training as well.”

On hearing of Djokovic’s fury, Alacaraz, with a knowing smile, was very relaxed about his apparent subterfuge. Sure, it probably was his dad filming, he admitted in his own press conference, because that’s what he does: he’s a tennis nut who spends his time at tournaments filming those he admires.

Amused by the very notion that he might have sent the old man off as a spy to pick up tips, the Spaniard pointed out that if he wanted to analyse how his potential opponent in Sunday’s final goes about his business, there are plenty of ways of doing it. He could, for instance, watch every single moment of Djokovic’s winning streak on Centre Court, a spell which stretches back a remarkable ten years. It was all recorded on TV and is available on YouTube.

It is not as if his serve is exactly a state secret; it has been there on the telly in all its crowning glory for nigh on two decades. Tennis is one of the most open sports around. If there is a new technique or tactic about to be unleashed, it will be immediately obvious to every single opponent the moment it is used. Besides, when it comes to facing someone as brilliant and prolific as Djokovic, it is one thing knowing what he is going to do, and quite another stopping him from doing it.

Yet here was Djokovic getting shirty about what has long been a Wimbledon tradition. Since the very beginnings of the tournament, those courts where players wallop down a few warm-up serves have been open to the public to allow the audience to gawp at its heroes. Quite what he thinks he is protecting, apart from his fragile ego, it is hard to say.

As he went on in his characteristically passive aggressive way, insisting that the odds are unfairly being stacked against him, the suspicion that has attended him throughout his career was once again confirmed: he really is the most paranoid sportsman on the planet. It is not just the vaccine touting medical establishment that is out to get him. Everyone is. Not least those snooty toffs at the All England Club.

So far, so Djokovic. He seems to draw strength and inspiration from being the outsider, the maverick, the lone wolf. Perhaps aware that he will never be loved and adored like his long-time rivals Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal, he characterises himself as the great disruptor. No one likes him, and he doesn’t care.

Except he does. This has long been the central irony of Novak Djokovic. To watch him in action on a Centre Court where he has long reigned supreme is to witness someone seemingly desperate for acceptance and approbation.

Just listen to his public pronouncements if – sorry, when – he beats the Italian youngster Jannick Sinner in Friday’s semi-final to put himself within an ace of matching Federer’s record-busting eight titles.

You will hear him talk about how much he loves Centre Court, about how it holds a special place in his heart, how he adores the crowd there and what a bond they have. How, even though he has spent much of this tournament criticising the organisers for starting matches late on the show courts and allowing blokes with cameras to stalk his training sessions, there is nowhere he would rather win.

And even as he speaks there will be no other conclusion to draw than this: the man is a genuine weirdo.