Carlos Alcaraz is not feeling well and the premiere in Turin confirms the perception. The first championship trip begins in the form of a mirage, because as soon as he has straightened his serve and pushed for the attack, 16 aces, as Alexander Zverev paraphrases, come back and end up with an imbalance in his favor: 6-7(3), 6-3 and 6-4, at 2h 31). The Murcian goes to the dressing room with a wry expression on his face and ponders the defeat, his third in a row in a month. It is not the desired premiere, but at least the story and the format provide comfort: Novak Djokovic – given up by David Ferrer in 2007 – or Rafael Nadal – given by James Blake in 2006 – also did not get off to a successful start, and there is the possibility of repair. The one from El Palmar has not yet managed to prove treacherous for him again this autumn, in a pale version and now against the ropes, because anything but a victory on Wednesday against Andrey Rublev – beaten by Daniil Medvedev (6 -4 and 6- 2) in the pulse completing the Red Group – would result in a virtually automatic exit from the aircraft.
This is not Alcaraz. Or certainly not the usual. Nervous, stiff, doubtful, he jumps onto the Pala Alpitour route; as if something or someone had taken away the power he had not long ago. Leaden. He arms his arm and attacks, but the right one is stunned and doesn’t overflow. Missing spark. He repeats his mistake, too many balls into the net and little freshness in his maneuvers. This is a slowed down version. It takes him almost an hour to smile, a bad sign for a tennis player whose flagship is pleasure and who relies so much on sensation. To feel or not to feel, that is the question. Murcian tennis requires joy and good vibrations, dynamism and decibels, those revolutions and that extra tension that have disappeared in the last month; The production is icy, there is silence and in front of him is a local opponent. Two-time champion Zverev knows what it’s about and he presses initially, although he later starts to skid.
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The German gets the break and seems to have the situation under control, but somehow he gets infected and there is disorder. The two compete with pushes and shoves. The impression from the stands – 13,000 spectators, everything sold out again – is that the giant’s service game will prevail, but Zverev gives a few gifts, gets tangled up and misses a golden opportunity. Alcaraz is still not feeling well, but he escapes in the first set. He responds to bad weather and folly with integrity, without turning his head. It’s called evolution. His team insists that it is important to learn to weather the storm, that one’s game cannot depend entirely on good inertia and that every great tennis player must have a Plan B; That means discovering the palette of shades of gray to face the tough days. He’s 20 years old and he’s there. In this sense, the room for growth is logically generous.
Alcaraz is one of those players (artists) who are irrevocably tied to their talent, completely instinctive. For better or worse. The Federer School. They compete on autopilot and the opposite is usually a bad sign, synonymous with fear, a sign that the blow is not letting up and the muses have scattered. Virtuoso players like him depend on how they put their first foot down that day and which way the wind blows, and the player from Murcia has only just come into this final stretch of the season with energy and inspiration where the lack has weakened the clarity of the proposal. This fall candidate is neither the one who shone until Wimbledon nor the one who held his own in New York, and the doubts he brought with him from Paris-Bercy remain. Apart from the balance sheet and possible developments in the tournament, the landing confirms the diagnosis.
As soon as Zverev corrects his view a little, the logical progression of the duel (taking the circumstances into account) begins to prevail. There is no twist or rebellion. For the German, a cannon that moves inside like a fish in water, it is enough to take out the rest and pace it. Alcaraz’s pressure is relative and once he overcomes an initial point of friction and the break option is removed at the start of the second set, his good work is enough to definitively determine the victory. Three devastating passes and an ace that avoids the possible 5-5 complete the story. Of course there is fear. When he moves sideways to chase a ball, his support foot disappears and the horrific scene at Roland Garros last year – when he broke seven ligaments in his right ankle – leaves those in attendance frozen. False alarm. And emergency light for the Spaniard, who this Wednesday was forced to defeat the Russian Rublev to stay alive.
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