Novak Djokovic casts the first stone in player insurrection against the ATP

At first glance, Novak Djokovic’s uprising at the Battle of Flushing Meadows looked to be as clumsily executed as Arthur Scargill’s 1984 miners’ strike. A leader with career earnings of more than $140m and probably worth twice that has asked his troops, struggling after almost six months without work, to risk their careers bang in the middle of a crippling pandemic and with winter only a couple of months away.

Yet, as with the old Yorkshire comb-over, it is hard not to sympathise with him, and his followers. They want more fairness, more money for their poorest members, a bigger say in the running of the company (quite how much remains puzzlingly vague), and a better schedule. Equally, it is impossible not to acknowledge the “horrible timing” of their stand, as Dan Evans put it the other day.

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After winning his 22nd match of the season and 80th title on the eve of the US Open, where he hopes to move to 18 major victories, Djokovic assembled his sans-culottes on court on Saturday night to metaphorically wave their pitchforks at the gates of the Bastille, and the ancien régime of tennis trembled just a little. With good reason.

This is an insurrection that threatens the very organisation, the ATP, that a previous generation of disadvantaged toilers put in place 30 years ago and which the world’s best player now wants to bring to heel. There are a lot of first-class flights, good dining in exotic locations and free tickets up for grabs.

Djokovic’s critics have pointed out, correctly, that a mechanism already exists within the ATP that largely serves the players’ purpose. They have what few sports have: a voice at the top table. And sceptics wonder if there is a hidden agenda, a bigger power push in the interests of unseen parties, who want to make a serious move on the running of such a lucrative enterprise.

Justin Gimelstob’s name has been mentioned. Djokovic stood by his friend during his court case in 2019, and Gimelstob, who was later forced off the ATP players’ council, repaid him in his push against the ATP chairman, Chris Kermode. It was a messy affair, but there was more mess to come for the Serb.

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When he tested positive for Covid-19, along with his wife, Jelena, four other players and an unknown number of fans who partied with them at a disco and mingled during the doomed Balkan exhibition tour, Djokovic lost some of his gravitas. He had meant well, he said. He was humble and humbled, but the damage was done.

He then left it until the eve of the Cincinnati Open, relocated to Flushing Meadows, to declare he would play in the US Open at the same venue – after the withdrawal of the defending champion, Rafael Nadal, and a few others, including his Australian tormentor, Nick Kyrgios. Still, he found time to bring together his lieutenants, Vasek Pospisil and John Isner (once coached by Gimelstob), then email players on site with an outline of the plan, and go on to complete an unprecedented double of all the nine ATP Masters titles. He is a remarkable individual.

In all probability, this upheaval will be a bird that swoops down then away like a late-summer swift. As Djokovic admits, he does not yet have the numbers. Nor does he seem to have a coherent strategy to deliver dramatic change.

It is not that he and his supporters do not have a case, as Andy Murray agreed shortly before Djokovic assembled his rebels on court, masked up and telling the world they had come in peace (for now). Players need and are entitled to a union, to protect their rights and working conditions, like the rest of us.

As one player pointed out, tournaments and governing bodies have for too long failed to properly address their grievances. But this is a shambles. There are vague statements of intent, but, with the support of maybe 200 players – among the 2,000-plus whose listing in the ATP’s rankings entitles them to call themselves professionals – the world No 1 has to rely on his own commercial clout and charisma.

And he has not brought with him the biggest name in the sport, Roger Federer. Nor does he have the unequivocal backing of Nadal or Murray – or, indeed, hundreds of other players who see the venture as risky and do not properly understand why it is happening. They are not alone.