After all, Alexander Zverev. Again. The German raises the trophy to infinity and thus ends this US Open that began full of uncertainties and has been clearing them away with strong blows, clarifying everything. To simplify: approaching 40, Novak Djokovic must think about where he is going; the second tier is still fragile; Carlos Alcaraz still lacks stamina, but seems close; American tennis (men’s) remains stuck in an increasingly distant memory, from frustration to frustration; and the champion, a first-timer in New York — though not on a big stage because three months ago he already conquered Paris — is undoubtedly the most reliable alternative to the two phenoms. Long faces in the Arthur Ashe stands.
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Just like at Roland Garros, the script maintains logic in the final stretch of the tournament and reality closes the door to one of those young players who try and hit the wall. Appetite and style are guessed in Ben Shelton, but his will is denied by Zverev’s proven experience, a tennis player who, on the verge of thirty, has found a window of opportunities that some thought he would never discover. The 4-3, 7-6(2), 5-7, and 6-2 (in 3h 33m) grants him his second Grand Slam, and the outcome is nothing but a matter of pure logic. After Sinner and Alcaraz, there is no more consistent option than the giant, until recently a Poulidor who despite his fabulous collection of trophies, wandered erratically through the sacred stages of his sport.
Who would have said it, but in a season that was expected in January to be a military parade by Sinner and Alcaraz, the German has eaten half the cake. All by himself. He knew how to handle the unexpected scenario that occurred in Bois de Boulogne, the Italian collapse, and also this uncertain one in New York, where for years there has been much dancing and skidding. At this time of year, players usually lack freshness and ideas, and lately it has proven to be a particularly volatile setting. Zverev himself (29) had not passed the quarterfinals in the last three editions, although six years ago he did shine in the aseptic context of the pandemic. Then he reached the final, took a huge hit, and that wound did not close. Until now.
Although he dozed off in the first two rounds, now a habit, the rest of the days showed no trace of the ghosts from then. On the contrary, like great players: as the slopes tilted, his determination grew. The Hamburg native seems to have forgotten that army of anguish, doubts, and anxieties that pursued him, and found the peace and balance necessary to perform at the highest level. He has finally found a pleasant space, freed from the oppressive imposition of having to prove something. He remains on a level below the best, but his growth allows him to dominate the rest and maintain a consistency unknown to others. If the Martians fail, he will be there, so to speak.
The emotional boost from Paris changed everything and after the fruitful run at Wimbledon, where he was a finalist, comes this demonstration at Flushing Meadows, where the audience witnesses this Sunday a properly controlled finish… to their dismay. Taylor Fritz (2024) did not achieve it nor will Shelton be the one to end a curse that lasts longer and longer, because it is 23 years of searching and as many of emptiness. Again, a cold shower. Another foreign champion. No local tennis player manages to take up the baton from Andy Roddick — the last triumphant mark in a major — and perhaps this was the perfect occasion; Fritz ran into Sinner, but Shelton faced a earthly one. The one from Atlanta puts his finger to his ear, twists. But no luck.
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He enters the final on the wrong foot, giving up the service right at the start with a double fault and closing that first set exactly the same way: another. A bad omen, no doubt. Celebrities like Jimmy Connors or Martina Navratilova do not see it clearly from the stands, nor does the guest Ronaldo, those tornado legs who when facing the goalkeeper, whack!, surgically hit the pause: the power of moments. Shelton could well consult him because that is precisely where he is, a torrent of power who still must learn to brake. The pause, so important. So essential. Calm down, his father tells him, while Zverev continues with his thing, which consists of maintaining course and responding when the match demands it.
Every time his rival knocks on the door, he invents one of his big serves or rides the backhand ball. Shelton has one chance in the first set, wasted; another in the second, also; and a third comes later, rowing across the court to see his now yes, his boy can finally achieve the break and what seemed written takes a turn. Bingo! There, however, is a tower that does not yield. This Zverev is different. Nothing to do with the one who until not long ago (last season) was lost in the labyrinth. In full form, it is a pleasure to see how the German pilots, who as the afternoon advances controls the situation with composure and neutralizes all that energy, that fierce desire of the American.
This one’s forehand has gotten dirty, he overdoes it. “Sometimes he self-sabotages,” his father analyzed. But he does not give up. He tries, fights, knows how to suffer. There is grit there. So little to reproach himself. But there is no way. The slip going to volley is metaphorical. He gets up and will scratch the set, the crowd gets hopeful; although it remains that, an optical illusion. In other times (go back if not to 2020) it would have been different, but this time Zverev manages adversity with firmness: he gets a warning for bouncing the ball over and over when serving, his mistakes are celebrated, the opponent presses him. And despite the insistence, Shelton does not manage to pierce again the intelligent wall raised by the German. He prevails from the retreat.
The pulse is more intense than suggestive and thus, with the craft of one who already has the lesson well learned, another victorious journey closes for the champion, who took more than a decade to catch the first and in just three months has claimed two. Tennis, life, the momentum, as they say in sports. He is so focused that until they warn him, he does not realize he has won. If it were up to him, he would stay to live sine die in this happy present.
