In the courtesy car that takes us from Earls Court to Wimbledon, the journalists, nervous, look at the clock when the traffic stops, what a queue they form in London, and Albert Costa and Roberto Carretero, who were magnificent players and today comment on tennis in television for Movistar Plus, they say to each other:
-But how great is Alcaraz, with that explosiveness, that power of legs, that elasticity of a cat and that capacity that he has to adapt to all surfaces. He has it all.
And the chronicler, mentally, takes note.
(...)
The Center Court audience took a breather after the intense Jabeur-Rybakina that took place the previous round (the match reissued the 2022 final; this time, Jabeur avenges his defeat), and went out to uncork a wine or a champagne (the glasses proliferate in the stands), and he arrives late at Alcaraz-Rune.
Hundreds of Londoners appear in the vomitoriums in the middle of the first set, and finally the desks, common locations and boxes are packed.
Like ants, thousands of little heads, with their sun hats, hats and caps, follow the events from the top of the stage.
By then, the party does not have a fixed course. The score is 3-3 and none, neither Alcaraz nor Rune, gives away a point.
The duel is going to be a classic, you can see it then, although the matter is long overdue.
Generation mates, both had been the best of their age and had shared doubles matches six years ago, when they were fourteen (the video of Les Petits As circulates on YouTube, an unofficial Children's World Cup held annually in Tarbes, and in which they formed a couple), and now they are on their way to becoming the owners of tennis, something that will definitely happen when Djokovic gives way to them.
So they know each other.
If asked about Rune, Alcaraz replies:
–His best shot is the backhand.
Rune, from Alcaraz, applauds the violent right-wing coup.
Yes, they know each other well.
And the duel is a sensational adventure, the fight between a Spaniard who delivers forehands and drop shots and a Dane (what did we know about the Danish school of tennis?) who responds with his two-handed backhand.
And he does not give up any, there are no breaks in the first set, which is resolved by details and the success of Alcaraz in the tie break, and the match only clearly decides in the second, at 1h44m of play, when the Murcian He finally breaks Rune's serve (he is placed 5-4) and the Dane is already arguing with his box, he boils, he understands that his moment will come, but that it is not this.
And Alcaraz flies off, lets go completely and now tortures Rune, the Dane who these days has got rid of two Spaniards, Roberto Carballés and Alejandro Davidovich, the latter a victim of stage fright and an incomprehensible spoon-sacking in a decisive moment.
Alcaraz seems to avenge those and he does it by mistreating his old doubles partner, his childhood partner, that's the sport: there are no friends when the judge settles the contest.
There is only cannibalism.
"There are no friends on the dance floor," Alcaraz confirms into the microphone.
And Rune, the sixth racket in the world, fights and talks with his box, with his mother who follows him everywhere (“I need her and she knows it,” he says when asked) and tries to keep him afloat.
But by then, Alcaraz has already got the hang of it.
Alcaraz is water, “be water, my friend”, and he sneaks in through the shallows and sinks the opponent's boat, entering with right hands finished off with a blushing left hand. He has the rhythm and the tone and he manipulates Rune. He dominates him better than he had dominated his previous opponents, Jarry and Berrettini, serve-volleyers, grass purists.
I didn't think I would play at this level on this track. For me, it's crazy,” says Alcaraz.
And now he is meeting Daniil Medvedev, the best of the Next Gen, a Russian without a flag who had already faced Rafael Nadal (how can we forget the final between the two, Medvedev and Nadal, at the 2022 Australian Open, a duel to five sets prolonged by the extradition of Djokovic?) and that he has been left alone in defense of his generation. And there I remember the conversation with Albert Costa in the courtesy car, hours before.
–The Next Gen is history, right?
Albert Costa, who won Roland Garros in 2002, nods.
