What does this guy have to do?

For five years, ever since making a next-to-impossible shot to save a match point against Roger Federer in the semifinals of the 2010 U.S. Open, Novak Djokovic has been unequivocally the best and most compelling player in men’s tennis. Others have had their shining moments — Federer, Rafael Nadal, Andy Murray, Stan Wawrinka, Marin Cilic. But no one has come close to matching Djokovic’s record — nine Grand Slam titles since then, and seven other finals — or prowess on the court. His arms and legs often seem as long as the Queensboro Bridge as he returns blistering serves and other shots, with pop, that most players couldn’t get their rackets on. Sometimes, as he did Sunday night in his victory over Federer in the U.S. Open final, he even leaves his blood on the court.

And still, he is not the people’s champion, which David Shaftel pointed out in a Times interview with Djokovic last week. The crowd’s cheers for him Sunday night were soft and brief, while they roared when the perennial favorite Federer scored a point or (boorishly) when Djokovic missed a first serve. This is to take nothing away from Federer. He could have retired six years ago — the last time he made a U.S. Open final — and still been secure in the knowledge that his unparalleled reputation was safe. But he didn’t; at 34, he still plays with elegance and smarts and skates across the court with more grace than players a decade younger. Chances are he will continue to do so for years to come. And unlike Djokovic, who spills everything on the court, Federer is spiffy and unwrinkled, making him, as my friend and the retired Times Magazine research chief Linda Magyar wrote to me today, the suave Fred Astaire to Djokovic’s sweatier Gene Kelly. “The crowd loves a winner,” Federer said in his post-match conference Sunday night. True, but the crowd really loves a pretty winner.

And perhaps it is Federer’s shaken-not-stirred demeanor off court, the way he holds his fans at arm’s length, that endears him even more to them. In his post-match speeches and interviews he acknowledges the crowd and nods to his opponent but never seems in awe of him. (You almost never hear Federer say, for example, “He was better than me today.” He often ends up talking about how well he thinks he played, even in a loss.) Djokovic, meanwhile, is the overeager suitor, profusely praising his opponent, his family, his coaches, the crowd, adopting a “love me, love me, love me” posture that has so far left the masses mostly unmoved, despite the years of brilliant play.

“He’s a lovely man,” John McEnroe said last night as Djokovic bounded up to his box in the stands after his victory, ruefully suggesting that Djokovic deserved better than muted appreciation from the crowd. McEnroe has been one of the few tennis analysts to point out time and again that Djokovic doesn’t get his due either as one of the greatest champions of all time or for being a good ambassador for the sport. And yet it may be the need to not just pile up the Grand Slam victories and finally win the elusive French Open (the only Slam title to elude him so far and to which he has come agonizingly close a few times) but to also win the hearts of the fans that has helped him produce such breathtaking tennis.