It’s Novak Djokovic’s law. It doesn’t matter where, when or how. The circumstance doesn’t matter. The dynamics, the conditions, the emotions don’t play a big role. There is not much logic in this Mars exercise that goes on, on, and on. It just happens. This is what is happening now at the Pala Alpitour in Turin, witnessing a masterful reaction that leads the Serb to the exit of this very cyclothymic Masters Cup. The one from Belgrade was limping and Carlos Alcaraz came as if from a shot, menacing, effervescent, the Murcian, in that little boiling point that he likes so much and that is usually the premonition of something big. But there is Nole, hierarchical and decisive, dictating with his backhand and now present again in the epilogue of a tournament he knows by heart. The Balkans celebrate (6:3 and 6:2, in 1 hour and 28 minutes) and the Spaniards shrug their shoulders: It doesn’t work. Not in front of this Djokovic. The duel with Jannik Sinner, who knocked Daniil Medvedev to the ground in the afternoon, will not be possible.
Number one is a permanent trompe l’oeil. It suggests something, but it’s just misleading. It’s not there, but suddenly it has taken over the entire area. It happens again in this nightly semifinal, which starts like this and quickly turns the other way. Another trap. How is it possible? Quite simply: Djokovic. Again? Yes, Djokovic. How on earth does the Serb have the ability to turn everything around and recreate himself? Easy, Djokovic. It is not necessary for a cat to have three legs. There are no secrets. He just has a lead in his head and executes it like no one else, with that agility in his punches and that clairvoyance in his mind. Alcaraz is determined, profound and harmful, but without realizing it he finds himself in a hellish whirlpool, exposed to a stressful situation that triggers his weak laughter. This time the gesture is not a reaction to joy, but to resignation.
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The stalls have a lot of fun in the elegant Turin night. “This tournament is impressive,” says Tomás, Carlitos’ uncle. The Murcian’s box is full and his brother Álvaro keeps moving his legs nervously. You can’t believe it either. Carlitos stood out like an angel and Djokovic was behind until that moment, but a few moments of fire are enough for Balkan to turn the situation around and wrest control of the game from him. There is no way back. The sign has increased. He first raises his fist and lights up again after an excellent action at the net, three sword strikes and a precise shot from close range that heats up the atmosphere even further. He smells like gasoline: “No-le, no-le, no-le!”
From less to more, he’s the one who’s really pushing now. He’s in sixth gear, with all that means; Traveling speed and debris everywhere, returning from everywhere and perfect shortening before each attack by the Spaniard, who looks at the bench, swears and tries to find an answer, but it doesn’t come. There is no possibility. It doesn’t matter where you put the ball or attack. It can’t find its way and is increasingly losing momentum. The mood logically suffers. He throws a backhand into the net and the break finally rolls out the red carpet for Djokovic, who experiments with heights and floats on the Pala Alpitour carpet. Go straight. Nole is unforgiving, and from that moment on he comfortably navigates a scenario that works to his advantage: defense wins over aggression.
He closes the first set with a direct serve and Alcaraz’s tennis gets dirtier and dirtier. The boy doesn’t do well with his backhand, and when he tries to enter the fight he receives a blow with the stick that knocks him to the ground; An angry Serbian intern stops the attempt and condemns it. Raised his fist again. On this occasion, the numbers make the difference. Alcaraz leaves a card with as many winners as unforced errors, 22; On the contrary, this time the rival doesn’t need any ammunition; The 11 winners are worth twice as much thanks to their precision with only eight errors. He is Djokovic in his purest state, mature and aloof. The robot. What a merit Wimbledon had in July. As the winner in London, Alcaraz finds no place this time and bows to him in the final episode of the season. First Masters, some semi-finals. Positive experience. Nole is a lot of Nole.
“My children [llegaron dos días antes a Turín] You gave me a lot of motivation and the strength to fight this afternoon. When they grow up, they will be able to see that I did something very difficult. They missed a few days of school, but I hope they don’t have any problems with the teachers…” he jokes before heading into his ninth final like Ivan Lendl. “I knew it would be a very intense game, it was always like that with Carlos. He is one of the most complete players I have met in my life; very dynamic, very fast, capable of many things. It’s a big victory for me. Since I’ve been broke [para el 4-3 del primer parcial] I felt free. “I served well when I had to, it was a perfect game,” he praises, before retreating to the locker room to bring about the umpteenth setback: if he beat Sinner this Sunday, he would win his seventh title win and distance themselves from Federer. Simply put: Djokovic. The explanation is so simple and so complex.
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