Sinner-Alcaraz, the showdown at Wimbledon
LONDON. A meeting, a smile—quick, very quick—a handshake for the benefit of the cameras and the omnipresent cell phones. Nothing more.
Friends on the outside, rivals on the inside. Today, one will win Wimbledon, the other will once again end up in the dust of regrets: no point in pretending, no point in fraternizing. Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz, the world number 1 and number 2, on the eve of their second consecutive Grand Slam final, marked each other 40 meters apart at Aorangi Park . A parallel training session to iron out the final details: minimal, seemingly negligible. But they can decide a season, or perhaps even a destiny...
To watch the 14th match between the two new masters of the circuit—the Spaniard is leading 9-4—some have been sleeping in tents for three nights, others are willing to shell out 20,000 pounds. Millions (last year's Alcaraz-Djokovic final peaked at 7.5) have booked front-row seats at home. In Italy, in addition to Sky, which had an audience of 950,000 viewers for the semifinal against Djokovic , the match will also be broadcast free-to-air on TV8 . Everyone, rich, poor, and moderately wealthy, is convinced it will be worth it.
THE POINT
Sinner is electric and calm, so he can lift the cup VINCENZO SANTOPADRE
La Volpe won in Australia, and Il Niño in Paris, snatching a Homeric and cruel match from Jannik's grasp , already consigned to legend. He could become the fifth player in the Open era to win the Championships three times in a row, after Borg, Sampras, Federer, and Djokovic; and at 22 years and 69 days, the second youngest after the Swede to win a sixth Slam. Jannik could give Italy their first Wimbledon singles title and earn himself a measure of immortality that, let's be clear, only winning on these courts guarantees. There's also three million pounds at stake for whoever wins: but that's not really what we're talking about, is it?
THE STORY
For himself and for the history of our sport. Sinner and the temple to conquer, by our correspondent Paolo Brusorio.
The two know each other, respect each other, and respect each other. Above all, they fear each other. Because they know what to expect. Jannik has been pretending to be far ahead since the day after the Paris final, but under his hat, he's plotting revenge . Yesterday, for an hour and a half, he focused on two things. The first: a slice serve coming out from the right, and a "kick," that is, a high bounce with a lateral drift, from the left. The goal: to knock Carlitos out and away from the court. The second: to pin Alcaraz on the diagonal of his backhand , to prevent him from turning onto his forehand and from there unleash torpedoes and spells. Carlos, who knows this, before cleaning up his moves with a series of baskets with coach Ferrero, placed his brother Sergio at midcourt to be bombarded with serves and practice his return. Few concepts, no confusion. The body will have to think and the mind will have to dissolve the pain. The game will be played at relativistic speeds, and Martin Falconer, Wimbledon's head groundskeeper, will turn his head so as not to see his beloved roots brutalized. The Centre Court crowd appreciates Jannik's fair play and Nordic aplomb, but is obsessed with the Spanish playmaker's wit and playfulness. Carlitos and Jan know they need each other to be themselves at the highest level of intensity possible on a tennis court. And they're willing to burn their souls in the attempt. All we have to do is keep our eyes peeled for that green border where sport and life, for nearly 150 years, have tended to blur.
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