By Alix Ramsay

The good people of Uniqlo are hard at work. In secret offices, the design team is busy creating a special pair of underpants for Novak Djokovic to wear over his unfeasibly tight shorts – their man has now achieved superhero status and must be dressed accordingly.

By marmalising Andy Murray in the Miami Open final at the weekend, Djokovic won his fifth trophy in South Florida and became the only man to do the Indian Wells/Miami double three times. Adding to his eighth grand slam title won at the Australian Open at the start of the year (he became the only man in the Open Era to win five cups in Melbourne), he is 4,310 points ahead of his nearest rival in the world rankings. And it’s still only April. He is, unquestionably, the immovable object at the top of the pecking order and the irresistible force on the world tour.

His technical skills and physical strength have been winning him titles for years but it is his mental power that has moved him up to another level in the past 12 months. He even admits to spending 15 minutes a day on exercising his mind to be in perfect readiness for any eventuality.

Murray, meanwhile, caught the first plane home to make the final preparations for his wedding to Kim Sears on Saturday.

We at TenniShorts have gained exclusive access to Djokovic’s Monte Carlo home to bring you this snapshot of an afternoon in the life of the world’s best player.

 

Scene: The Djokovic apartment overlooking the Mediterranean. The sunlight sparkles on the water. Jelena, Novak’s wife, bounces their son, Stefan, on her knee while Novak sits in the lotus position doing his mental push-ups. (He did toy with the idea of yogic flying but the ITF were none too impressed and air traffic control would not give him clearance for take-off.)

 

Jelena: Gurgle quietly, little Stefan; Daddy’s cogitating and you know he doesn’t like to be disturbed mid-codge. He says it’s bad for his aura – although if he sits like that in those shorts for much longer, his aura will be past saving. You may spend your life as an only child…

Novak [for it is he]: It is all right, my beautiful family, I have achieved oneness.

Jelena: What were you cogitating about this time, love?

Novak: The Scottish Player and how I will bring about his downfall in yet another final.

Jelena: The Scottish Pl…… oh, you mean An…

Novak [interjecting sharply from the roaring-lion-with-a-hernia position]: Hush! Hush! Bring silence to thy lips, my astonishing wife. You must never mention the name of the Scottish Player.

Jelena: Eh?

Novak: You must not speak his name in this household or, legend has it, it will bring bad luck upon us all. The Queen herself, Dame Helen Mirren, told me that.

Jelena: Oh, please yourself. Anyway, why are you bothering with him? You splosh him every time you play him – what’s the problem?

Novak: He has not invited me to his wedding.

Jelena: So?

Novak: Am I not the world No.1?

Jelena: So?

Novak: Am I not the champion of Wimbledon and Melbourne?

Jelena [tartly]: At the risk of repeating myself: so?

Novak: Do I not have the imperious Boris Becker as my coach?

Jelena: Look, is there much more of this? I’ve got to get the tea on…

Novak: The Queen’s sister, Dame Timothy Henry Henman OBE (Order of the Backhand Error) has an invite and who did she ever have as her coach? The best she could come up with was Paul Anka and only then when he’d finished warbling and carrying Pete Sampras’s kitbag. Even the Swiss chocolatier got rid of him after a while.

Jelena: Look on the bright side – at least you won’t have to buy And… sorry, the Scottish Player a present. And you get Saturday afternoon off to watch the Grand National. Hey, do you fancy a fiver each way on Court By Surprise? He was 40-1 last time I looked….

Novak [now in wounded-peacock-with-added-pique pose]: It is simply not right. I am never afforded the love and respect I deserve. I even hired Boris to help with that but it has not worked. If a ginger-haired German can make the people of Britain love him – and you know what they usually think of the Germans, especially at the All England Club – then surely they would love me for working with him. But no. They love Roger for being suave, they love Rafa for being humble and they love the Scottish Player for crying, but me? Me who wins everything? I am just that Serbian bloke who spoils the final result. I can feel my aura clouding…

Jelena: I’m not surprised if you sit like that…

Novak: I must make them love me.

Jelena: What do you fancy for your tea?

Novak: My mind is stronger than theirs. I will crush them all. At Wimbledon, I will humiliate the homegrown boy; at the French, I shall destroy the Spanish invader and at the US Open, the place where they dared mock me all those years ago for having a sniffly nose, I shall reign supreme. I will win and they will love me for it.

Jelena: How about fish fingers?

Novak: My mind is now free: pure and cleansed. My body must be likewise.

[Novak leaves to take a shower]

Jelena [calling after him]: Don’t forget that hot tap is on the blink….

Novak [screaming from the bathroom]: Aaaarrrggghhhhhhhh!!!!!

Jelena [smiling at Stefan]: Daddy’s scalded his aura again. Never mind. You watch the telly while Mummy phones the bookies….