After certifying that the ball has kissed the baseline and, therefore, has already surrendered Alex de Miñaur, the champion Carlos Alcaraz raises his arms (6-1 and 6-4, in 1h 27m) and celebrates: Vienna, another box crossed out. It is his first trophy at the Wiener Stadthalle and the fourth of this very strange year in which everything went wrong starting in April, but which can still bring him considerable joys like this one in Austria and, above all, what is to come. After four and a half months of absence, the Murcian has already won two titles since his reappearance - this last one and the one in Tokyo, since the end of August - and sends a clear message: he seems to have found what he needed.
The Radetzky March by Johann Strauss plays and to the beat he displays that spectacular tennis that also beats out De Miñaur, whose legs seem to weigh more than necessary and who is not quite having the day. The resistance of the second set is of little use to him, after having received a good shake in the first. The winner, full of energy, with a mature game, has found in Vienna—where he was not initially going to compete—everything he needed to undertake the assault on the most juicy stretch of this season finale: rhythm, sensation, level and effectiveness. Trust. Also fun. That is to say, the perfect concoction to resolve the final and then go for it.
Alcaraz is eating the duel in bites, with the seriousness and diligence of these days in which he has done practically everything well; with more or less inspiration, more or less tuned in this, that or that, with different skins: that of the resilient, that of the practical boy or that of the aesthete, who cares. In general terms, the Murcian rounds off a very complete route that places him on the first line of the grid for the two remaining events, Paris and the Davis Cup. The indoor format is not his favorite - he had only won in Rotterdam - but it seems a simple matter of time - what it takes for him to sharpen his serve a little more, perhaps - that ends up turning it into another farm.
Alcaraz is a versatile competitor who never ceases to surprise, always with an extra ace up his sleeve and capable of turning the extremely complicated into something very simple. It is enough to observe that unique (and delicious) way of cushioning the ball in the volley, that unparalleled mobility - it makes the court a mousetrap with no escape points - or that ability to extract absolute force when the arc of the hit is minimal. For others, it is a disconcerting and overwhelming rival. “And that is 75% of its strategic and mental possibilities,” Rick Macci, the man who shaped the Williams sisters in their beginnings, transmitted this week.
The Spaniard has all the tools and, if the opponent also does not have the time and help, the result is this final that for most of the time is a one-way street. Not even ten minutes have passed and the oceanic is already suffering from it. Usually very discreet, rather not very expressive, De Minaur is not fine and by the time he blinks, he has already lost serve twice. He turns to his coach, the Spanish Adolfo Gutiérrez, and protests: “It can't be done like that!” And indeed. The previous afternoon was stretched and the effort made to beat Alexander Zverev (in three sets) had taken its toll. That, in a player who depends so much on his maneuvers, is little less than a condemnation.
The one from El Palmar, on the other hand, can be seen fluttering with that characteristic grace and the drive of those meteoric legs that allow him to arrive with the ideal margin to design the shot: here or there, punishing the ball or combing it, but most of the time making the right choice. Very focused, Alcaraz is gaining physical tone and reactivating his brilliant version; that is, the perfect balance between competitiveness and pleasing the viewer as much as possible. In the midst of this tennis of automatons, with such an abundance of matches and so little imagination, their performances represent a comforting and reconciling oasis. His game catches, it is the great exception.
In the midst of an army of cyborgs, he is the most transgressive. Simply different. As much power or more than the rest, but also a special instinct to build that differentiates it, makes it unique and isolates it; That's what Jannik Sinner or the new number one, Alexander Zverev, know; some green shoots out there, the Medvedev, Cobolli, Ruud, Musetti, Paul, Tsitsipas or of course Djokovic, but in reality little more. De Minaur knows how to play, an intelligent tennis player who reads the points well and who rarely does not offer debate, but on this occasion he was lacking rope and by the time he manages to land in the match, the other has already turned on the turbo. There is no turning back.
“Well done, Car-li-tos,” the Australian says sarcastically. “It's great to have you back on the circuit, all the fans appreciate it... But it's very annoying to play against you,” he says. Immediately afterwards, Alcaraz takes the microphone and poses ceremoniously with his second indoor trophy, the first in Vienna and the one that, he hopes, will not be the last of a strange season in which it started like a mess, suddenly disappeared and now seems to have arrived in time to sweeten this last stretch that still has three suggestive incentives left. The cover of Paris, a nightmare for him, is the next challenge and later he will tackle two others. Meanwhile, he says it loud and clear: that's right, here I am again.
