It is rarely a sudden annihilation. Instead, the pressure mounts with each game. Djokovic’s opponent finds himself under pressure on every serve. It’s 30-30, then deuce, then break point, then another. It’s more of the same in the next game, and eventually it’s all too much.
As the match wore on, Djokovic moved more fluidly across the court, dancing to the ball, pounding it on every stroke and serve, and landing it closer and closer to the lines.
After Kyrgios dropped the third set, he pumped his fist toward his box, trying to reassure his team. He started playing tennis at 7. It took him 20 years to reach this stage, far longer than most thought after he stormed onto the tour as a teenager with his speed and size and talent. Now it was all going in the wrong direction.
To his credit, Kyrgios never did combust. But no matter how hard he ran or served or how sexy some of those curling shots of his might have been, the wails of “Come on, Nick” that echoed across the 100-year-old ground and through the sauced-up crowds on Henman Hill outside Centre Court, were no match for Djokovic’s relentlessness.
In the long history of this tournament, there have been finals matchups with more storied champions and players far more beloved than Djokovic and Kyrgios, but it’s unlikely there has ever been one that presented a greater contrast in styles, both on and off the court, in tennis and life.
Article source: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/10/sports/tennis/novak-djokovic-kyrgios-wimbledon.html