This was a match of two halves: one in the chilly evening, the other in bright afternoon sunshine. One half a contest, the other a rout, as Novak Djokovic claimed his 42nd straight win, defeating Juan Martin del Potro, 6-3, 3-6, 6-2, 6-2.
The key to del Potro’s form is not his killer forehand, but his movement. He will never possess Djokovic’s supple athleticism, but there are matches—even months at a time—when his feet are moving and he gets to every ball with court coverage unprecedented in such a tall man. When that happens, everything else falls into place and he suddenly grows in stature before your eyes. After a routinely brilliant first set from Djokovic last night, it happened: del Potro’s feet took flight and he evened the match with nine brutal, pummeling games that showed why this contest was so eagerly anticipated, and why he could have been the man to end Djokovic’s streak.
The thing about del Potro’s footwork, though, is that when it’s bad, it can be very bad. Returning to Court Suzanne Lenglen for a match now reframed as a best-of-three set contest, the Argentine started off well, earning two break points as Djokovic, wary of del Potro’s reach, went too far in an attempt to drag him off court. At 2-2, 15-40, del Potro had a chance to grab an early and possibly decisive advantage—and played as if his feet were in wet cement, not clay, netting a routine forehand that he couldn’t get his body around. After the 25-stroke rally, Djokovic reacted with a roar and clenched fist, del Potro’s head dropped, and it was one-way traffic from that point on.
With a demoralized del Potro broken in the next game, the story of the match quickly shifted from a close contest to one set of brilliance bracketed by three of inexorable, clinical skill from Djokovic. With hindsight, it’s tempting to feel that del Potro was ill-served by being forced to stop play, with the momentum his at the time, but such an analysis doesn’t do justice to how well Djokovic played—or the potential advantage to del Potro when the match became a sprint, rather than a marathon. Playing from some otherworldly plane of calm and confidence after winning 41 consecutive matches, Djokovic disdained flashes of magnificence from del Potro and the occasional unforced error of his own, consigning both to irrelevance. He had the courage of his convictions, sticking with stinging, down-the-line backhands and perfectly-executed drop shots despite the occasional misfire, and it paid off.
It’s a futile endeavour to find enough superlatives for Djokovic’s tennis at the moment. He was handed the draw that struck fear into the hearts of every top player and overcame the challenge superbly. Del Potro will be reproaching himself for missed opportunities and a lack of self-belief at crucial moments, but he will also have to admit—and the rest of us to remember—that Djokovic was simply too good.
—Hannah Wilks