Welcome to the Roland Garros of illogic, the one of convulsion. The one that seemed a bit bland at first, because the coronation of Jannik Sinner was just a matter of a simple countdown and the Italian was advancing through the rounds towards the Musketeers’ Cup; because Carlos Alcaraz was not there and, therefore, no one could stop the one from San Candido; and because the sequence signed by the number one — 30 consecutive wins from March until now, all the important trophies in his hands — invited the thought that there was no other way out. At least not a very logical one. However, Sinner is no longer here nor is the other big card: at nine o’clock at night, Novak Djokovic becomes prey to João Fonseca.
At that hour, the 19-year-old completes the rebellion (4-6, 4-6, 6-3, 7-5 and 7-5, in 4h 53m) and certifies the victory he so sought. Called to be one of the future leaders, his projection had not quite found correspondence with any great result to justify it, but he already sports a shining mane; none other than that of the best male tennis player of all time, Djokovic, who after two months of containment and accuracy, ends up yielding to the relentless pressure of the Brazilian, a hitter who finally overwhelms him. He couldn’t beat Sinner in Indian Wells, that match resolved in two tight tiebreaks, nor Alcaraz in Miami, also a tight 6-4 and 6-4; but he does manage it against Nole and in Paris. Not bad.
He seals it with a magnificent comeback and three direct aces, as a certain Roger Federer used to do. “I had never finished a match like this,” he tells a crowd that has carried him on their shoulders, his compatriots eager for Fonseca to follow in the footsteps of the great Guga Kuerten and one day manage to triumph in the Bois de Boulogne. That is far off for now, but the mark left against the Balkan, 20 years older, will surely unshackle a talent who possesses one of the most devastating forehands on the circuit — which can reach over 180 km/h hitting from a standstill — and who finds in Paris exactly what he was looking for: a liberation. On the other side, elegant, the veteran applauds him and then replies: Was this the last dance here?
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Simple and direct: “I don’t know”. I don’t know. Nothing more. After Sinner’s troubled exit the day before, the Italian victim of his own physique, the Serbian was (presumably) presented with an ideal opportunity to achieve the longed-for 25 and thus become the only tennis player (male or female) to reach that number of major trophies. Without the Italian nor Alcaraz on the court, the situation initially lent itself to him being able to star in the never-told story, but nowadays these kinds of matches are already too long for Djokovic and, as if that were not enough, he had not arrived in the best condition: with only one warm-up match — a first-round loss in Rome — with shoulder discomfort — since early March — and overwhelmed by the heat that envelops the city these days.
Too much for him, after all, and consequently a new twist for a tournament that is gradually escaping rationality, with only two top-10 players surviving in the draw. A significant slaughter that now claims the one from Belgrade, who had only lost once in his entire career when holding a two-set lead; it happened in 2010, against the Austrian Jurgen Melzer in this very venue. “It would have been nice if the match had gone to three sets…”, jokes Nole, who regrets having wasted the break of serve in the final set. “I simply ran out of gas.”
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