“That was the worst moment of my life”: Jelena Dokic recalls being booed before facing Davenport at the Australian Open

WTA
Sunday, 16 November 2025 at 08:30
Dokic
Former World No. 4 Jelena Dokic has reflected once again on the traumatic moment in which she was booed by the Australian Open crowd before facing World No. 1 Lindsay Davenport in 2001. Dokic, born in Croatia and raised in Australia, had represented the nation throughout her early career before her father forced a last-minute switch of allegiance to Yugoslavia.
In the beginning of her career, Dokic stunned the tennis world with extraordinary breakthroughs. At Wimbledon 1999, ranked No. 129, she produced one of the greatest upsets in Grand Slam history—defeating top seed Martina Hingis 6–2, 6–0 in the opening round. The teenager went on to reach the quarter-finals, delivering one of the most impressive early-career rises the sport has ever seen.
By 2001, however, her talent was overshadowed by the increasingly volatile behaviour of her father Damir Dokic, who controlled every aspect of her life. He removed her from Tennis Australia, dictated her nationality change, and created an environment of fear and instability that followed her onto the court. Dokic has frequently described those years as a period defined by emotional and physical abuse.
The match against Davenport became a symbol of that trauma. As she walked into Rod Laver Arena representing Yugoslavia—with the decision made by her father only 24 hours earlier—she was met by loud booing from thousands of Australian fans. It was the moment she now calls the deepest wound of her career and one that has shaped her adult understanding of who she was and what she endured.
“That was the worst moment of my life," she said during an interview with Australian Story in ABC News. "When he changed allegiances from Australia to play for Yugoslavia 24 hours before my first round of the Australian Open, against the world number one, Lindsay Davenport, and to get the booing of 15,000 people… I just wanted to disappear.”

Coming to terms with a childhood stolen

Dokic has explained that what hurt most was not the result of the match, but the feeling of something essential being taken from her. She loved Australia, its crowds, and the country that had given her a chance to build her tennis career. That identity was stripped from her without consent, leaving her alone on one of the biggest stages in the sport.
Her father’s behaviour extended far beyond that night. She has written openly about the long-term emotional impact of his control—financial, psychological, and physical. Her departure from home left her with nothing, forcing her to rely on the next paycheque from tennis simply to have a place to sleep.
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Jelena Dokic reached her best ranking as world No. 4 in 2002 at the age of 19.
The consequences of that upbringing followed her for years. “Including when I left home, I was literally on the street, had nowhere to go. If I didn’t have tennis and a paycheck coming in a week or two, I don’t know where I would go.”
Dokic later spent years trying to understand how a parent could treat a child that way. She admits that the search for answers nearly consumed her, especially as she battled PTSD, anxiety, depression, and an eating disorder in early adulthood.

Estrangement, attempted reconciliation, and a complicated grief

Despite everything, Dokic attempted to reconnect with her father multiple times. She hoped that with age—her own and his—there might be room for change, or at least for a relationship outside tennis. Each attempt only reaffirmed the absence of remorse and the emotional distance she had lived with since childhood. “I’ve come to terms to accept that he doesn’t love me and that he never did. I tried to reconcile two or three times, but it wasn’t possible. It’s hard when someone’s not even a little bit sorry… in fact, he said he would do it all again.”
The two remained estranged for a decade. Damir Dokic passed away recently, leaving Jelena to process a kind of grief shared by many survivors of abusive homes—a grief not tied to what was lost, but to what never existed in the first place. “People ask me if I hate my father. I don’t. I don’t necessarily forgive him, but I do not hate him.”
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