TWO years ago, Novak Djokovic was on the precipice of greatness in Flushing Meadows, New York. As he surveyed the scene along with some 24,000 fans on hand at the Arthur Ashe Stadium prior to contesting the first point of the United States Open men’s singles final, he figured he had a better than even chance of meeting his date with fate. All he needed to do was beat fellow finalist Daniil Medvedev to become just the second man after Rod Laver in 1969 to claim an open-era calendar year Grand Slam. In collecting the previous three major titles, the world had been his oyster; he simply had to reaffirm it.

As things turned out, even the well-prepared and extremely experienced Djokovic was overwhelmed by the moment. Ultimately, he failed to withstand the intense scrutiny throughout the fortnight — and, of course, the intervening six weeks since his Wimbledon triumph. When the battlesmoke cleared, he was severely disappointed; Medvedev took only two hours and 16 minutes to defeat him in straight sets. That he also happened to be relieved underscored the enormous weight of the expectations he carried.

The other day, Djokovic was again on the cusp of rewriting history. Having finished a bridesmaid at the All-England Club, he could no longer go after a calendar year grand slam. Still, at stake was the chance to become the lone player in the sport’s annals to win 24 major championships. (Sorry, but the controversial Margaret Court’s numbers don’t count for a variety of reasons.) And there was extra motivation, to be sure; once again, he was at Flushing Meadows, and, once again, Medvedev was on the other side of the net. Under the circumstances, it was but fair for all and sundry to ask him: How would he fare this time around?

Considering the significance of the task at hand, it was, perhaps, only proper that Djokovic would take the same number of sets against the same opponent in the same venue to provide the answer. Not that he didn’t feel any pressure; among other things, he had to battle fatigue (not to mention an inspired Medvedev) midway through the set-to. In stark contrast to his flameout two years ago, however, he did well to stay in sync and focused on the outcome he desired. From the get-go, he picked his spots, dictated rallies, and constructed points to his liking as only he could. And, when the final point was decided in his favor, he celebrated his singular accomplishment with an air of acceptance.

Indeed, Djokovic was, well, inevitable. And, notably, there is little reason to argue that he cannot continue to be. Even at 36 and with such notables as Carlos Alcaraz angling for a changing of the guard, he stands alone at the top. The other members of the tennis elite over the last two decades have come and gone: Roger Federer long retired, Rafael Nadal recovering from injury merely for one last go-round, Andy Murray already one foot out the door. Through all the upheaval, he remains first among equals.

It’s anybody’s guess how long Djokovic can stay primed and motivated to fend off challengers to the throne. He’s certainly close to his end; Father Time is perennially undefeated. Until then, though, he plans to keep carving his name along the way, with landmarks — and vanquished foes by the wayside — standing as testaments to his preeminence. He has pledged to enjoy the adventure while it lasts. Everybody else should, too.

Anthony L. Cuaycong has been writing Courtside since BusinessWorld introduced a Sports section in 1994. He is a consultant on strategic planning, operations and human resources management, corporate communications, and business development.