For one of the best sportspeople who has ever lived, Novak Djokovic really does have lousy timing. In January, he couldn’t have picked a worse time to pack his rackets, log onto Instagram and fly to Australia. In the lead up to the Australian Open, Melbourne was a muggy, deserted, Covid-riven and pissed-off city.
At the time, it was hard to secure fresh produce, painkillers, dog kibble and rapid antigen tests. The prime minister was useless. A six-year old girl was stabbed and killed. A mass brawl broke out at a supermarket, with one shopper whacked over the head with a saucepan. The city was in no mood for wise cracking superstars unwilling to disclose their vaccination status.
