Bill Simons

We always had Roger, graceful and free – until his knees at last rebelled and elegance alone wasn’t enough.

For years, Rafa’s ferocity seemed almost like ours. Roland Garros built him a statue. The Olympics asked him to carry their torch. But inevitably, his glory vanished into the clay.

Still, we had Novak.

Perhaps foolishly, we’d always imagined he was a timeless warrior.

If anyone could combat the tide of time, it was our sinewy Serb. He was our team’s designated hitter, who swatted every pitch Father Time delivered out of the park.

For him, virtually everything off court was dedicated to performing on court.

Diet? “I’m going vegan.”

Fitness? “Watch me stretch all day.”

Mind? “Excuse me, I’ve got to go meditate.”

Match play? “No one survives a battle like me.”

Sure, he hasn’t won a Slam since 2023. But he’s been a regular visitor to the business end of Slams. He punched out Carlos Alcaraz to win Olympic gold in Paris, then beat him again at the 2025 Australian Open. This year in Melbourne, he called on all his reserves to take down Jannik Sinner, and reach another Australian Open final. At Wimbledon, he prevailed in an epic quarterfinal.

Prime Video even gave us a retrospective – “The Wolf in Winter.”

More to the point, Djokovic was tennis’s Lion in Winter. Clearly, more than any tennis elder we can recall, Novak still wanted it. Records weren’t simply marks – they mattered.

He hadn’t surpassed Margaret Court’s record of 24 major singles titles, but Djokovic could barely play a match without breaking one record or another: oldest No. 1, most Slam appearances, oldest gold medalist, longest Wimbledon quarterfinal – you name it.

Then came opening day in New York.

Suddenly, we were left to wrestle with a slew of records no one would relish.

Djokovic suffered his first-ever opening-round loss at the US Open in 20 appearances. He’s set to fall out of the Top 10 for the first time since 2018.

And, most telling of all, for the first time since 2003, there would be no member of the Big Three in the second round of a Slam.

So there was plenty of sorrow all around. In fact, never before had tennis icons given us two weepy, back-to-back days like Saturday and Sunday. First, Federer broke down with emotion as he shared his journey. And Sunday night, we saw Novak – scraggly look, deep lines, drained, seemingly lost on court and tearing up.

It was not supposed to be this way. Before the Ashe Stadium match, oddsmakers had Nole as the third favorite to win the Open, and his foe, Mariano Navone, was dismissed as a mere Challenger-type claycourter who was only No. 49.

“Navone should be overwhelmed,” John McEnroe informed us. “He can’t hurt Nole. He’s no good on hard courts. He’s never been on a court like this. He’s so tight.”

But the Argentine had other ideas – and he took the first set. No big deal.

Then again, Novak’s modus operandi these days is to drop sets with troubling regularity. In front of 23,500 fans, Navone became the latest member of the fast-growing “I won a set off Djokovic” club.

Yes, from the fourth game on, Nole was clearly struggling physically. Skeptics wondered why he’d cut his practice sessions short. Why were there so many photo shoots by subway entrances and so many upscale PR events at midtown hotels?

Still, the GOAT seemed to tell Mariano, “Hey, No. 49, enjoy your fleeting moment in the spotlight. I’ll soon chop you up and have you for lunch. First I take out your legs, then I take out your soul.”

But of late, Nole seemed to be a soul on ice.

He fell miserably in the heat and humidity to the No. 50 player in the world in his first American summer match in Cincinnati. At the Open, the master of match details inexplicably came out on a steamy New York night in a black outfit. Isn’t humidity his kryptonite?

For a while, Nole managed to follow the script. He came back, grabbed two sets and went up a break in the fourth.

But the man of steel wobbled. His legs were shaky. His fierce defiance was absent. His rage took a nap. His face flooded with anxiety – “What the f– is happening?” He bent low, fell in a heap and upchucked in a corner.

All seemed beyond his control. Nothing helped: a fresh white shirt, a much needed delay for a roof closure, an attentive trainer, many a pill, 1,416 matches worth of experience and – finally, after all these years – adoring chants from the throng.

All was in vain. A master was being punished. Twilight can be cruel. The Lion in Winter offered few roars.

Almost precisely 18 years ago, right in Ashe Stadium, young Andy Roddick sarcastically referred to Djokovic’s right ankle, his left ankle, his back and hip, and said Novak might be “the most courageous player of all time.” And he mercilessly quipped about young Djokovic’s “cramps, bird flu, a Beijing hangover, anthrax, SARS, and a common cold.”

Tonight, Novak just referred to cramping, pain, his back, his shoulder and “the whole body.”

“It was an awful feeling on the court,” he confided. “It’s something that I’ve been carrying, unfortunately, pretty much every match this year. Vomiting, throwing up, [it’s] a serious issue…My whole body starts to collapse, basically cramping and pain…The back just gave up in the end, and shoulder…I pretty much despised every moment.”

In his moment of loss, his children, who once gleefully pranced around Roland Garros’ court, were stunned: “What’s happened to Daddy?” His wife Jelena had spoken of her husband’s vulnerability. Now we saw it on full display.

Andre Agassi recently said, “I don’t know when the end will come for Novak, but I’m absolutely certain that when it does, it will happen very quickly.”

So is this the GOAT’s end? Will we see him on court in Athens, Melbourne or back here in New York?

How can this hobbled, humidity-battered, 39-year-old, who is seemingly suffering from a mysterious, unnamed ailment, possibly fulfill his vision of playing the 2028 LA Olympics?

But, never underestimate Nole. There have been few greater problem solvers in sports.

He recently told us, “It’s true wisdom to know how to let go, to liberate yourself – because there’s no stronger feeling in life than freedom.”

Ah, yes.

So, why doesn’t the great sportsman just hang up his sneakers?

Of course, that’s not for us to decide.

All we have to do is take a deep breath and start preparing for a tennis world without the Big Three.