The world No 1 fought his deportation case with trademark resilience which has unleashed forces larger than him
Novak Djokovic fought the Australian government in the same way he fought his rivals on the tennis court: with defiance and stone-willed refusal, with every tool at his disposal and every last fibre of his being, with an unshakeable and messianic belief in his own supremacy. He contested his deportation as if it were a crucial break point, as if it were his last stand against total oblivion. This time, however, something startling happened. He lost.
Djokovic is unused to losing. When he does, he tends to explain it away as the product of his own failings. He courteously congratulates his opponents, but ultimately leaves you with the impression that he decides who wins and loses. His collection of trophies and records – 20 grand slam titles, the most weeks at world No 1 in the history of men’s tennis – suggests he is probably right. But implicit in that too is an assertion of control and individual impregnability: this is my business, and I will deal with it myself.