Wimbledon – second round –
Despite his youth, Carlos Alcaraz already has the virtue of knowing how to interpret the timing of tournaments and of knowing how to win matches by a mere question of inertia, even if his tennis draws meanders and the swings generate some other surprises. There is one, and very entertaining, in the pleasant face to face with Aleksandar Vukic, but the Australian fails to hit the shot -which served to take over the first set- and then simply falls exhausted, run over by the good dynamic that the Murcian has acquired since the successful passage through Roland Garros: 7-6 (5), 6-2 and 6-2, in 1h 48m. The episode closes with a direct serve and the notable figures of the Spaniard on the card, 42 winners and 15 errors. Inspired, corrective and fantastic sections. Heading already towards the American Frances Tiafoe (7-6 (5), 6-1 and 6-3 to Borna Coric) in the third round of this Wimbledon. There will be Showsure.
Alexander Zverev, the victim in Paris, already says it. And Vukic hears it too late: “If you leave short balls or don’t play with enough power, he destroys you. He takes advantage of every little opportunity you give him. If he has time to build the point, you’re lost. In that he’s similar to Federer, but he also has things like Djokovic and Nadal, like the spin he puts on the ball or the way he slides around the court.” And he, who told CNN these days that he wants to sit at the same table as Federer, Big Threethe three modern giants, sums up and assesses the step taken on Wednesday: “I am very happy with how I played. The first set was the key. It was very close, but I went to the net and in the tie-break I was very good, and in the second and third I offered a very high level.”
Vukic is no sweet pear, a tennis player of good build, powerful, and with bad memories for him too. He prevented him from entering the main draw at Roland Garros three years ago, when he was just getting into the elite, and that defeat stung. Extra encouragement, then; the Spaniard doesn’t like to leave loose ends. And the Australian hits him hard, powerful in the reverse shot and who in the blink of an eye, based on faith and a lot of good work, contesting, complicates the first set much more than expected. From 5-2 in his favour to 5-6 against and Alcaraz, suddenly, is in a bit of trouble. Not without stumbles, it seems. The Murcian is a sleeping lion, who from time to time takes a nap and, knowing himself superior, as if he needed a needle to prick him in the ass, waits for the fire to appear to recover the adrenaline and sink his fangs in. They are only 21 years old, and their coach is there.
This is what some extraordinary people are like, hibernators It’s textbook. Bolt and Phelps used to dawdle before the explosion, and famous are the strolls of a certain Leo Messi for 80 minutes, until the situation demands full performance, a sure turn; but then there appear, in all their splendor, the true predators, the feline instinct of the boy from El Palmar, who goes for a very open ball that the public thinks is lost and that he, riding, intercepts against all odds with a firm backhand, to throw to the other side and bring the British people to their feet. Tricks, moments, the extraordinary; knowing how to make amends and react to avoid greater evils. It happened to him at the premiere, break down in the first and second sets; and after losing four games in a row and now finding themselves behind, they are making amends again.
Carlitos Alcaraz or sometimes, when he wants. And reflexes, many reflexes. The net tape, rather loose, finally gives way to a couple of shots from Vukic and the Murcian, in a samurai manoeuvre, responds to one of them with a slap that repairs his excess of confidence. When he returns to the baseline he snorts and looks at the box. Phew, just a hair. And his father tells him with his eyes: watch out, Carlos, watch out… Vukic is coming on strong and is not giving up anything. Good manners from the Australian, 28 years old and 69th in the world, finally reduced when, as we said, things have become complicated for the young champion and he counterattacks in a big way, stretched out: superb crosscourt return, fine backhand at the net, accurate rise, ball from the oceanic player to the net and break. Balance again, 6-6. And that’s where everything is decided.
The fan accidentally uncorks the champagne bottle and the hollow sound bounces off the closed atmosphere (rain, almost always rain in London) of Court 1, where the illustrious Ian Hewitt, watching from the side and always smiling gentleman of the club, and where everything ends when Alcaraz decides to accelerate and activate the tornado with one of those brilliant and devastating bursts, from here to there the rival, shaken but still conscious, standing. Indeed, good old Vukic has guts. Not without suspense does the first set close, in reality definitive because once resolved, the subsequent development offers only one direction, mere inertia, logical hierarchy. When he has it practically done, 5-1 up, the El Palmar player decides to get tangled up, 5-4 in the tie-breakerbut he settles, licks his lips and then, already facing forward, finishes. So he raises his arms and celebrates: square two, discounted.
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