Two years ago at Indian Wells, I felt like I saw Ivan Ljubicic everywhere I went. One late afternoon I spotted him on a far practice court, with no other players or fans in sight, making his laborious way through serve after serve, his famous bald dome bent forward and sweating in the sun. A couple of days later, early in the morning, I glanced out the window of the press room and saw him down on the stadium court, putting himself through a set of strenuous footwork drills. Looking back, Ljubicic, then 31 and well on the downside of his playing career, seemed to me to be especially determined that week. I wasn't all that surprised when he went on to win the tournament, the first and only Masters title of his career.
The truth was, though, that Ljubicic always worked especially hard in some capacity, either for his own improvement or the improvement of the men’s tour. The man who fled a war in Bosnia as a teenager became the ATP’s most reliable soldier, on court and off. His influence and accomplishments went beyond what he did as a Grand Slam semifinalist and the leader of a Davis Cup championship team. When we talk about the camaraderie that has marked this era, as well as the steadily growing political commitment that has come with it, we typically credit the top players for leading the way. But Ljubicic, who led from behind, as it were, also played a major part in both of those developments.
An ethnic Croatian who came to train in Italy, and a family man with two children, Ljubicic was always aware of his good fortune as a pro, and of the limits of that life. He knew that it wouldn’t go on forever, and that he needed to make all that he could, whether in prize money or sponsorship money, in a short period of time. He sought out new racquet-endorsement deals, even when it meant that he might struggle getting used to a new frame.
More important, Ljubicic sought to have a say in how the tour, his place of work, was run. At a time when politics had become tangential to the careers of most Top 20 pros—they were making plenty, after all—Ljubicic became the first player in two decades to serve on the ATP’s Board of Directors, a place that he may return to soon. Roger Federer, a longtime friend, told Chris Clarey of the New York Times, in an excellent piece on Ljubicic that ran yesterday, that the Croat was “very bright” and always had good ideas when they worked together on the Player Council. Ljubicic, who straddled the worlds of the star players and the tour's rank and file—he somehow carried himself like he was both—was well-positioned to see different sides of an issue.
Not that Ljubicic, who made his living competing, was all about fuzzy feelings. He could get annoyed by opponents whom he felt weren’t acting professionally. He criticized Andy Roddick for hamming it up against him at Flushing Meadows in 2003—“Nobody in the locker room likes his acting on court,” Ljubicic said afterward, speaking, characteristically, for the players as a whole. Three years later at Roland Garros he was vocal in his criticism of Rafael Nadal and a chair umpire in letting Nadal take too long between points. For Ljubicic, professionalism was paramount. By 2010, Roddick himself understood that. The bad blood seemingly behind them, the American praised Ljubicic for “doing things the right way.” You get the feeling that that was a high compliment for Ljuby.
As far as his relations with his fellow players go, more characteristic, and perhaps more influential, was the sight of Ljubicic, a Croat, trading shirts with Novak Djokovic, a Serb, after their match in Monte Carlo in 2008. It's hard to think of a better example of the current players' camaraderie, as well as their recognition of their status as role models, than that soccer-style gesture between members of formerly warring groups. How many other non-Grand Slam winners are given a ceremony after their final match, as Ljubicic was on Sunday in Monte Carlo? How many have the man who defeated him—in this case countryman Ivan Dodig—say that, "I think this is the first time that I'm not happy to win a match. He always had great advice. I think I used every word to become a better player"?
I’d be lying if, from a personal standpoint, I said I loved to watch Ljubicic play. His serve was one of the game’s most effective, his backhand was an elegant weapon, and he knew how to compete, but his game lacked some spark or energy or beauty in my eyes. Not that it matters—Ljubicic did all he could with it. My first indelible memory was of him cutting the heart out of the U.S. Davis Cup team with three wins, including one over Andre Agassi, in a first-round tie in 2005. Ljubicic, a born team player, nearly matched John McEnroe’s perfect 12-0 single-season DC record that year. In the final against Slovakia, though, he lost the 12th of those matches, with a chance to clinch the Cup, in five sets to Dominik Hrbaty. Ljubicic was never destined to be a McEnroe-like genius, but he got the job done anyway. When his teammate Mario Ancic came through with a win later that day, Croatia had its first and only Davis Cup title, thanks mainly to Ljuby—11-1, it turned out, was good enough.
My second indelible Ljubicic memory was of that late-career title run at Indian Wells in 2010. When he upset Rafael Nadal in the semifinals, Ljubicic walked into the press room and flashed a broad, surprised smile. “Lotta people here today,” he said drily—it had been a while since he’d been given the star treatment. He enjoyed it; as always, his answers were long and articulate. What surprised me was how much that title meant to him. With his win over Rafa that day, Ljubicic reached his fourth Masters final. He had lost all of the others. The thought of finally crossing the finish line at 31, well after his prime, made the usually serious-looking Ljubicic sound like a kid again. “It would mean the world to me,” he said. “When I see my name on the court, to have that little shield [the shield given to Masters winners] next to my name, it would be nice.”
When Ljubicic went on to win that shield with a victory over Roddick the next day, he elaborated on what this nice feeling meant to him. “Looking at my career,” he said, “I did feel like I was missing it. It gives something special to your career. It’s another thing after Davis Cup, the Olympic medal, and two Top 10 finishes and now a Masters 1000, so it makes everything look—look better, actually.”
After listening to that press conference, this is what I wrote:
"Sometimes, with all the money on offer in tennis, you start to wonder if it's the primary motivator for most of the players, or at least for the guys without legitimate shots at winning Slams. It would be understandable if it was, but it's not a fun thought for fans to consider—we want to believe in the glory of our game. When we hear a guy like Ljubicic recount his career achievements—none of them monetary—with so much pride, we can believe in it. We can believe that the players love the game's history as much as we do. Ljubicic's appreciation is a function of his age and his background, of course—he’s 31, and he knows all about not getting everything he wants. But hearing him talk so lovingly about that little shield was the best surprise of all this week.”
Ljubicic was effusive on a number of subjects during that magical week in Indian Wells. He was asked about Roger Federer and what he meant to the rest of the tour. Ljubicic described Federer as “our leader,” and said that the rest of the guys took their cues about sportsmanship and professionalism from him. Some other players might have said that those cues came from Ivan Ljubicic, but taking that much credit wouldn’t have been Ljuby’s style. He deferred to the star, happy to be a good soldier until the end.
And like good soldiers in any pursuit, Ljubicic was happiest when he could take satisfaction in a job well done. It's no surprise that this most thoughtful of competitors left us with one of the best descriptions I've ever heard of why we play the game.
"The wins," Ljubicic told the Times last week, when he was asked what he would miss most. "The shower after the match is the sweetest thing you can feel."