As the tennis broadcaster Mary Carillo put it this week, there are comebacks, and then there are come-all-the-way-backs. By seizing Sunday's Wimbledon final in straight sets, Novak Djokovic put himself firmly in the second camp.
Two years and five weeks ago, Djokovic completed arguably the greatest feat of Open era tennis by landing a fourth straight major title in Paris. In the era of the Big Four, this was such an absurd achievement that it literally boggled our minds, as if Djokovic had just eaten a car.
But he paid a price for his supremacy. Twelve months of absolute rule took so much out of Djokovic that he has been recovering ever since, both mentally and physically. Oddly, it turns out to be the grass – once his weakest surface – that has brought him back to himself.
Djokovic has played only three finals on the world tour in the last 14 months. He won Eastbourne last year, finished as runner-up at Queen’s three weeks ago and on Sunday lifted a fourth title on Centre Court.
As he ascends the ladder of Open-era Wimbledon champions, now standing behind only Roger Federer, Pete Sampras and Bjorn Borg, anyone would think that he came from Sussex rather than Serbia.
Despite his heavy presence on the  SW19 honours board, Djokovic found himself battling the crowd once again. Everyone knew that Kevin Anderson was coming in with the equivalent of a weighted rucksack on his back after that daft 6hr 36min semi-final against John Isner. A blowout defeat seemed so predictable that every small Anderson victory was greeted as if he had just performed a backflip.
The first two sets lived down to expectations. Anderson coughed up 25 unforced errors and dropped serve four times in eight attempts. (Bear in mind that he had only been broken twice during the whole of the Isner epic.) “Of course, my body didn't feel great,” he admitted afterwards, “but I was definitely quite nervous too.”
Harsh as it might seem, the early debate around the grounds centred on the question of where this match might rank among the worst Wimbledon finals. Somewhere between Sampras-Pioline (1997) and Hewitt-Nalbandian (2002) was the consensus, although last year’s Federer-Cilic letdown was hardly much better.
There is room for debate here among the tennis authorities, With each passing slam, it feels as if the attrition factor of best-of-five-set tennis is leaving more players handicapped for what should be the showpiece matches. Tickets for Sunday’s final started at more than £200 a pop – a sum for which one might hope to watch two fully functioning athletes.
Happily, though, the third set turned into a proper battle. Anderson had shaken off his early butterflies by now, and warmed up his ravaged body with the help of an elbow massage from the trainer.
As the breaks of serve dried up, Djokovic grew a little anxious himself, committing three double-faults in a single service game of his own at 4-5. He even had to fend off five set points, and when a miscued forehand nearly flew long on the first of these, the crowd shrieked in excitement.
Djokovic was unimpressed, barking “Tell them to shut the f--- up” at chair umpire James Keothavong. A few minutes later, he slid a forehand passing shot up the line and turned to a group of fans who had been giving him gyp, saying “You, you” and blowing the same air kisses we saw him use during his third-round match against British No. 1 Kyle Edmund.
At times during this tournament, Djokovic has played up to his anti-hero status, using the fans’ negativity as fuel. After that little flashpoint, he regained his former poise, and Anderson was left with few options. If Anderson played from the baseline, his groundstrokes broke down first. If he came forward, he was either passed or left picking the ball up off his bootlaces. Eventually, he missed a return to complete his 6-2, 6-2, 7-6 defeat.
Djokovic did not explode in exultation. Instead he squatted down on his haunches for a moment, apparently lost in reflection, before strolling to the net for the handshake. Then came two personal traditions: the chewing of a piece of Centre Court’s hallowed turf, followed by his trademark “Wonderbra” celebration, in which he cups his hands underneath his pectorals and then thrusts them towards the crowd.
One heartwarming surprise remained, as Djokovic’s three-year-old son Stefan ran into his mother’s arms in the player box and yelled “Papa! Papa!”
Asked about this moment in the interview review afterwards, Djokovic replied “It was one of the biggest motivations I've had for Wimbledon this year. I was visualising, imagining this moment of him coming to the stands, cherishing this moment with my wife and me and everyone.
"He's under five years old, and you're not allowed if under five to be present. He was not there till the very moment when I was walking to get an interview [with Sue Barker]. He walked in. So that was just a moment that I will carry inside of my heart forever.”
Only 40 days ago, in Paris, Djokovic stumbled off court after his quarter-final exit at the hands of the unheralded Marco Cecchinato in a towering rage. “I don’t know if I’m going to play on the grass,” he told reporters in a stormy press conference. As of this evening, he will surely be glad he did.
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