Rafael, we have a problem.
Toni Nadal, 2005 (publicat "Come on, Rafa!", by Alejandro Ciriza)
21 minutes have passed and Novak Djokovic (36) still hasn't appeared at Philippe Chatrier.
He has lost his serve and loses 3-0.
It's no surprise: he's a slow-burning tennis player.
- If Nadal is power and Federer is patience, Djokovic is a strategist - John McEnroe once said.
(The same McEnroe who, a couple of hours earlier, on the Suzanne Lenglen court, had teamed up with Mats Wilander to defeat the Noah-Bahrami pair in a legendary doubles match).
The final is rare and Djokovic thinks and rethinks.
He does it while throwing the ball, the wait is desperate for the opponent. He bounces the ball twenty times, sometimes with the racket, sometimes with his hand, sometimes there are more than twenty bounces. It also returns balls to ball collectors, analyzes weights, pressures and proportions, even analyzes temperatures.
In the back, the ball gatherers come and go in desperation.
Time dilates, the public gets restless, Serbian voices emerge from the stands. They are hoarse, impossible to know what they are saying.
When a fan boos, Djokovic stops the bot count and starts again. This time he feels like he's playing at home: Serbian flags abound.
-No, No! - says the parish, today there are no boos or insolence for Djokovic, the man who wants to feel loved in Paris, like Nadal or Federer, but he contradicts himself.
-I don't care if they boo me; I keep winning - he had said a few days ago.
– He has no weak points: Djokovic is as capable of attacking as he is of defending. If it's good, it's a machine - Toni Nadal often repeats.
As if listening to Rafael's uncle, Djokovic corrects things and stabilizes the game, and after 3h13m he projects to his third crown at Roland Garros, his 23rd major title, the tiebreaker with the manacorí: 7-6 (1), 6-3 and 7-5.
(He is already on par with Serena Williams; in front, with 24, only Margaret Court surpasses him).
(...)
The match is decided after 40 minutes, when Casper Ruud (24) feels the weight of Djokovic, the weight of 22 grand and a crazy run. Tom Brady is in Djokovic's box, one row behind Goran Ivanisevic!
(Mike Tyson walks nearby; Ibrahimovic and Mbappé sit together in the VIP box).
Djokovic returns the break of serve to the Norwegian and insists on sending him backhand balls. Ruud is a magnificent grounder: when he kicks from the right, the ball rises and the bot draws annoying parables.
This is how Christmas plays.
But Ruud, the Norwegian who has already contested (and lost) three Grand Slam finals, is no Nadal.
And that's why, when both approach the tie-break of the first leg, Ruud dismounts: Djokovic beats him in no time, 7-1.
(The Serb has won all six of his tie-breaks this tournament, so why should it be any different now?).
Now, Castile is wide.
Ruud's tennis goes into crisis and Djokovic rides on Paris. The Norwegian has been unmasked, now his forehands are defenseless jabs that invigorate Djokovic. To each, the Serb responds with more virulence.
Djokovic is his own boss. When he is left, he stretches like a piece of gum, like a cat, and always senses the Norwegian's next move, he almost never misses.
Ruud is entangled in the Serbian's web, you can see where they had met before, in the previous rounds, Khachanov, Varillas, Davidovich or Fucsovics, even Alcaraz during the first set of the fateful semi-final, before stabilizing the marker at second and get blocked by the ramps.
In the press gallery, comrade Luis Miguel Pascual, correspondent of the Efe agency in Paris, reverses Saint Matthew:
– It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than to see Ruud get this title.
After 2h13m, Djokovic throws a parallel forehand and already has the second hose on the court.
In the absence of great emotions, Philippe Chatrier makes waves. The press gallery is empty. The journalists go into the room, into the bowels of the Philippe Chatrier: cool and in the light of the articulated lamp it is more comfortable to write.
The stakes have collapsed for Ruud, who swallows a banana while the gardeners soak the rammed earth. It's the Ruud of 2022 again, that soft-spoken Norwegian who would surrender in three sets against the imperial Rafael Nadal, the colossus with a steel statue that welcomes those who visit Roland Garros.
There is nothing to unsettle Djokovic anymore, not even the chair umpire: if the umpire warns him that he falls asleep before serving, the Serb responds with a direct serve and raises his racket, cheering the competition, which today it helps him
His presence rises above the rest of the contemporary circuit. He already has 23 majors, one more than Nadal, three more than Federer, no one can face him anymore.
