Knock Knock Novak

"Hey, McQueen, you alright? Listen, don't you worry, pal. You had a good run."

Game. Set. Match. Arnaldi. 2 sets to 0.

As soon as this is said, Djokovic has completed his second three-match losing streak of the year. The last time he had one was in early 2018, when he even contemplated pulling the plug, according to Jelena. The one before that was back when he had zero Slams. So, no matter the ups and (occasional) downs due to injuries or motivation over this two-decade-long masterpiece of a career, this isn’t a regular occurrence — it’s probably Djokovic’s own Halley’s Comet.

I gave my all, human.

Or it was — until this year. In the four Masters events he’s played in 2025, Djokovic has lost his opening match in three of them. He has yet to win a match on clay, and as things stand, he’ll head into Roland Garros having played just two clay-court matches as preparation. The last time that happened was… never. And when we’re in such uncharted territory, it’s fair to ask: has Father Time finally completed his straight-sets victory over the Big 3?

Is Novak Djokovic (finally) washed?

Now, Djokovic didn’t enter 2025 off the back of a multi-Slam year, as he has typically done since 2018. In fact, 2024 marked his first Slam-less season in over half a decade — and some might argue the decline had already begun last year. So, for the sake of argument, let’s compare Djokovic’s 2023 season, in which he was unarguably the best player in the world and just one swing volley away from completing the Calendar Year Grand Slam, to his 2024 and 2025 campaigns.

Dominance ratio is a stat I particularly like, especially for baselining counterpunchers, because it reflects both points won on return and points saved on serve. Djokovic’s numbers are:

Not as dominant anymore?

At first glance, this might not seem like a huge difference, but it represents a 7% dip. And in a sport where matches are often decided by just 2 to 3% of the points played, that’s significant. What’s most interesting to me, though, is that neither his serve nor return, in isolation, has shown a major drop-off in points won percentage over these periods.

RPW = Return points won. SPW = Service points won.

It’s approximately a 2% decrease in both serve and return — not falling off a cliff, but more like the ball bouncing funny, playing a smaller share of your matches on surfaces that suit your game, or being just a tenth of a second slower to react in a sport that hinges almost entirely on time.

The most striking disparity in the numbers across these two periods comes from something Djokovic arguably embodies more than any player in tennis history: Tiebreaks.

Djokovic still holds the all-time lead in tiebreak win percentage at 65.5%, a fitting record for a player whose legacy is inseparable from his legendary "lockdown mode" when the pressure is highest. It's the combination of willpower, technique, racket specs (underrated), and aura that allows him to become a human wall — refusing to blink until the opponent either outlasts him (à la Thiem in “THAT” tour finals classic) or lets go of the rope (as has happened in probably 95% of the tiebreaks he’s won). But over these two recent periods, his record in tiebreaks tells a very different story.

Tiebreakovic?

He went from winning 80% of his tiebreaks to just around 55%. How does that happen? How can a player remain nearly identical across every other metric — serve points won, return points won, even physical conditioning not falling off despite some injuries — yet suddenly falter in the very moments that historically tilted in his favor?

One thing I’ve never quite understood is the tendency to declare a player washed, finished (or, on the flip side, dramatically improved) overnight. Djokovic ended the 2023 ATP season with back-to-back wins over the two players who have since claimed six of the last seven major titles. He dropped just 11 games across four sets. And even if you want to chalk up the Alcaraz result to favorable matchup dynamics and the latter’s struggles on a fast indoor court, he still dismantled this current monster version of Sinner, who, at the time, was in the early stages of what has become a jaw-dropping 103–9 run, with relative ease.

So, how do you go from that to being titleless on tour for the next 16 months and counting?

To me, it didn’t happen overnight — it was building for a while. And like everything in life, Djokovic finally met his match: time.

Just look at the three players Djokovic beat in his 2023 Slam finals. Tsitsipas is now struggling to stay inside the top 20. Ruud is lingering around the top 15. And Medvedev is… well, Medvedev. All three were firmly established top-five players when those finals took place. Today, none of them are even in the top 8. And they’re all in their late 20s to early 30s — not 38, like Djokovic.

Tennis is a slow sport that moves quickly. While the three players mentioned above have faded due to technical and tactical shortcomings — and the rise of younger, better contenders — Djokovic’s case is different. His flame is flickering, not for lack of brilliance, but because the candle has given everything: the wax melted to the ground, the wick nearly gone, yet still trying to summon one last spark before it extinguishes.

There was one such spark in Paris last year — a moment that made the candle believe, I can still do this. The same ego that forged a legend refuses to consider another path. But deep down, surrounded by the charred remnants of what once were peers — now reduced to fading smoke — the candle, resting atop what is by now a golden, throne-like holder, knows: the final gust of wind is coming. And it could arrive any day now.

Glitch in the Matrix.

So, is Djokovic really washed?

No. He’s just a 38-year-old who, on his day, can probably still beat anyone. But the thing is, at this stage, his day doesn’t come every day; it comes once a quarter. That belief, that flicker of possibility, will probably keep him going for another season.

But it’s fair to say that the tennis era most of us grew up with is, for all intents and purposes, over. And while there’s a certain sadness in that realization, there’s also a sense of awe — a quiet acknowledgment: how on earth did this even last for two decades?

Great aging players don’t suddenly fall off — not if there’s no injury involved. Their strengths slowly regress toward the mean, bit by bit. Reflexes slow down, nerves flare up due to the weight of this potentially being their last chance, and, most importantly, time takes its toll.

At first, they might get away with it — their high confidence and established stature covering up the cracks. But slowly, the losses start creeping in more and more. The confidence wanes when the reality sets in: I’m not what I once was. The truth is, you haven’t been that for years. It’s just now, finally, that you realize it. Just like everyone else, you are human.

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This was supposed to be posted 3 days before Roland Garros, but since it was announced today that Djokovic is playing in Geneva next week, I had to emergency post it today.

Oh well, big 2025 and Novak is still ruining my plans, ffs.