Serbian star Djokovic shows his flair during practice. Credit:AAP At 32, Djokovic is the youngest of the surviving trinity. Tennis’ favourite guessing game is when Nadal will eclipse Federer, but Djokovic is sitting pretty to usurp them both. By simple metrics, he is the most accomplished player of the past decade. At least. "It’s not a popular discussion to say, is Novak the best of them all?” noted Australia’s 1987 Wimbledon champion Pat Cash late last year. “It’s not popular. But you’ve got to face the facts: this guy might be the best of the lot of them.” Note that: “not popular”. This has not changed. Djokovic has made the world submit without ever managing to charm it. He's still fighting two opponents. Not even in Melbourne does he prompt fans to swoon and sigh as they do for Federer and Nadal. Australians recognise two types of “favourite”, the superstar and the underdog, but Djokovic sits outside the betting altogether. This is reflected in one incidental: Federer and Nadal have lists of sponsors as long as your arm, but Djokovic’s catalogue barely reaches to his elbow.

After yet another Australian Open win for Djokovic four years ago, I wrote: “There is something about the way Djokovic carries and presents himself that means fans hold him at a greater distance than they do Nadal and Federer.” That “something” is ethereal. It’s not that he’s a cast villain. It’s not that he courts infamy, as others have. It’s not that he is loathed, rather that he is less loved than his rivals. It’s just that … what? Is it aesthetics? Is it predisposition? Is it, dare we ask, race? Australia has been home to Balkans for generations now, but sometimes it seems we’re still trying to figure them out. Those banners, those chants ... But it wasn’t a problem for Goran Ivanisevic or Ana Ivanovic. Not even in Melbourne does he prompt fans to swoon and sigh as they do for Federer and Nadal. Is it that Djokovic bounces the ball too much before serving, sometimes lets his feelings out, can be tetchy? So are many others who enjoy more favour. Certainly Federer and Nadal are not immune. Nadal’s OC routines makes Djokovic look hippy by comparison, but it loses the Spaniard few points with fans. And when Djokovic steps out of line, at least he apologises. Is his game too plebeian, too robotic, with too few frills? Hardly. His finishing flourish at last year’s Open, blitzing Lucas Pouille and the hapless Nadal, was sublime. “I guess you’re driven by some force that takes over you,” he said. ''You feel divine, like in a different dimension.” That’s exactly how it looked.

Maybe he is too perfect. But that’s never been an issue for Federer. Djokovic can scrap with the best when needed. In 2012, he played possibly the best Australian Open final of all, six hours of it, against Nadal. This year’s Wimbledon final against Federer is a candidate for best in that hallowed tournament’s history. Each was an Odyssean epic, and Djokovic won them both. Perhaps that's the problem. He keeps shooting Bambis. The first was Federer in the 2008 semi-final en route to his first Australian win. It’s as if he’s never been entirely forgiven. He may not be as popular as Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal but Djokovic still has his fans, some of whom turned out to watch him prepare on Saturday. Credit:AP Djokovic has grown before our eyes, a la Andre Agassi. That bare-bellied, bellicose 20-year-old is now a man of the world. With Federer and Nadal, he has set new standards for decorum as well as virtuosity. On court, he is a gallant. In press conferences, facing tennis’ army of amateur psychologists, he is as urbane, articulate and evidently sincere as Federer, in as many languages, too. But few get to see this. Yes, he sometimes fudges big issues. That hardly sets him apart. Is it simply that he is not Federer? Quite possibly. Tennis, played on a court, loves to pay obeisance to a king, one at a time. It can hold in its affection a great rivalry. The history books are studded with them, hence the Federer-Nadal mystique. Djokovic always has been one too many, even when it was only him. That might be his problem: he was last to the party. He’s always been fighting at least two opponents.

Djokovic celebrates after beating Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in the Australian Open final in 2008. Credit:AP He wears a mask on court. So do Federer and Nadal. Djokovic’s slips more often, which ought to endear him, but doesn’t. He can play the court jester, mimic with the best, can be a true Djoker, but it will never be his day job. He is the straight man from central casting. He even has tennis’ straightest haircut. But you could hardly say he lacks personality. Is it looks? In tennis, the most image-conscious sport, these attract a premium. I'm not qualified to answer. Djokovic scarcely looks like the elephant man to me. But he won't ever inspire, for instance, this magazine paean to Nadal: "His golden umber skin, inky deep-set eyes and prominent cheekbones evoke 19th-century paintings of Mayan chiefs." There were addenda about the “smooth expanse of his shoulders, the curve of his lower back”, “clinging boxer shorts”, “snug denims” and an "animal magnetism no woman could fail to register". Nole? Not so much, apparently. Then again, Federer’s hair is in that awkward period between going, going and gone. This does not appear to count against him.

Seemingly, Djokovic is resigned to being permanent third wheel, like lugubrious Ivan Lendl from another era. He says favouritism is the fan’s prerogative, that all he can do is work and hope to earn their approval. If he feels envy, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t play Djokovic-versus-the-world – he doesn’t need it for stimulation as others might – but he does sometimes joke about his party-pooping. Loading Not everyone buys this. Some think his philosophical persona is all a front. Nick Kyrgios, never one for diplomacy, says he is a fake. "I just feel like he has a sick obsession with wanting to be liked,” Kyrgios said last year. “Like he wants to be like Roger. I just can't stand him.” Among other objections, Kyrgios dislikes Djokovic’s post-match celebration. “It’s so cringeworthy. If I play him and I beat him, I'm doing his celebration in front of him. That would be hilarious." It’s a withering critique. I'm sure Djokovic appreciated being read a lesson on deportment from Kyrgios. I’m also sure he thinks to himself: it’s Kyrgios, it got everyone’s attention, but it won’t last. Shortly afterwards, he won Wimbledon again. Kyrgios was knocked out in the second round.