Tennis has become, more than ever, a permanent survival exercise in which, beyond playing better or worse, regardless of the greater or lesser talent one has, it is essential to overcome each appearance without scares, safeguarding the physique as best as possible. because every maneuver hides a trap and every party hides a trap. So Carlos Alcaraz, who had his right arm touched—“pronator teres,” forearm—and who recently had to give up both Monte Carlo and Barcelona, celebrates and greets the Madrid stands with a broad smile of happiness: goal accomplished. The 6-2 and 6-1 (in 1h 07m) achieved in the debut against Alexander Shevchenko gives him time, endorses the good feelings from training and guides him towards Sunday’s crossroads with Thiago Seyboth Wild, 63rd in the world and superior this Friday (double 6-4) to Lorenzo Musetti.
“It has been a pretty hard month, especially because of the uncertainty of not knowing when he was going to return,” he explains with the victory in his pocket, his 12th in the Madrid tournament, crowned in the last two editions. “I came here with many doubts. After the first training session he didn’t know if he was going to play and the priority today was to see how he felt. I still can’t push it as I would like, one hundred percent, but I end up with a good feeling. I wanted to play loose, forward, and in the end they were very good; a very good level even though it came without rhythm. So I’m super happy,” resolves the one from El Palmar, a candidate for a third consecutive laurel until now unprecedented. In any case, the immediate priority is very different, and today his thoughts are focused on re-engaging.
And that came with doubts. Alcaraz bursts into the Caja Mágica headquarters, snatching service from Shevchenko, telling him that here he is the one in charge, that no matter how much protective cover there is on that right arm and that no matter how much he does not compete from Miami, at the end of March , the ingenuity is preserved intact. He quickly rubs the lamp. From the outset, already in the first point, a rush to the net and immediately afterwards, a crossed and unattainable backhand. Ladies and gentlemen, here is Carlitos again. “He’s my guy (he’s my boy)”, the fan who celebrates the winning shot with a shout that makes the entire previous row turn around is justified. It’s cool again, the sky is overcast and the track becomes crowded during the first break, without registering the full capacity.
In the absence of a forehand in full condition, Alcaraz enjoys the reverse, a delight when it gets hot; unequivocal sign of an accelerated maturity in the game, out of the ordinary. With him he dictates and disposes, and opens the way to face this challenging opening in the tournament with relative peace. He thus scratches the second break, with the broom, and artfully clears the scarce undergrowth that Shevchenko, aggressive, with pride, but without sufficient tools to minimally reverse his luck. He applauds the crowd, because at the end of the day, today there is probably no more suggestive or attractive proposal than that of the Murcian, a young compendium of imagination.
Enjoy Alcaraz, with a desire for mambo, and enjoy Madrid with it. “Come on, countryman!” “Long live Murcia!” She gains meters, enters the court, shows off a volley and digs her fangs in hard. Shevchenko, 23 years old and 59th in the world, claims a ball that the judge approves. But not even for those. Alcaraz approaches the fence for supervision and, always ready for interaction, sings the in in chorus with the occupants, who attend a similar development in the second quarter, linear but very entertaining. Made in Alcaraz. As soon as he presses, he completely discolors the opponent, who fights and accepts with resignation, but without finding a remedy. In the midst of the current monotonous record, of duels resolved with sticks, its creativity and its variables are a blessing.
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