As we approach the biggest game of Carlos Alcaraz’s young life, the most important person in his entourage is unlikely to be his father Carlos Snr, or even his highly experienced “supercoach” Juan Carlos Ferrero.
Instead, Alcaraz admitted he would seek advice from his psychologist – Isabel Balaguer, from the University of Valencia – on how to deal with the nervous tension that wrecked his last attempt to defeat Novak Djokovic.
Five weeks ago, in the semi-finals of Roland-Garros, Alcaraz faced Djokovic for the first time in a major tournament. The bookmakers had made the young challenger a slight favourite, and the opening two sets produced the kind of see-saw drama and spectacular shot that fans had hoped for.
But then, in the third game of the third set, Alcaraz moved to his left for a backhand and just stood there, frozen like a kid playing grandma’s steps. His calf had locked with a cramp.
The players were just over two hours into the match, but Alcaraz later explained that his physical symptoms were due to mental symptoms. “I never felt that tension that I felt in that game,” he told reporters.
Hence the need for a different approach on Sunday.
“I have a psychologist I’ve been working with since the start of 2020,” Alcaraz said after his straight-sets win over Daniil Medvedev on Friday night. “She helps me a lot. I’m going to talk to her about how to prepare for this match, this important moment for me, which is not going to be easy.
“Physically, I will do the same, what I did before the games. Probably in the mental part, I’ll do something different, to stay calm, to show that I’m not nervous. Some exercice. I will try to forget that I will play a final against Novak.
To stand a chance against Djokovic on Sunday, Alcaraz must be creative and free-spirited. He shouldn’t dwell on the outcome, but rather revel in the possibility of entertaining a full house.
This is his default mode, and he rarely deviates from it. Except that day in Paris, where he had been grimacing, whispering and raging at his support staff all along. Playing against Djokovic – the most ruthless winning machine in tennis history – can have that effect on a young boy.
In general, Alcaraz is a difficult man to faze. Off the pitch, he is comfortable in almost any situation: holding press conferences, giving autographs, speaking in crowded stadiums or just hanging out with his entourage.
This is unusual for 20-year-olds in general, and even more so for tennis players, whose social development is stunted by spending so little time in formal education. (Alcaraz wasn’t much of a lover of the classroom, so much so that a poor performance in his debut would see his then-coach, Kiko Navarro, warn “If you don’t pull yourself together, we’ll send you back to school.” ‘school.”)
The fluidity of Alcaraz’s progression through life – both sporting and otherwise – is reminiscent of that of Roger Federer, a man so gentle he made James Bond look temperamental and stressed.
And yet, Federer was not born that way. At the age of Alcaraz, he was still an angsty aspirant. It wasn’t until he won Wimbledon in 2003, a month before his 22nd birthday, that he removed the racquet throwing impulse from his system. All of this underscores how rare the young Alcaraz is.
For an example of Alcaraz’s laid-back personality, take the mini-storm that blew through his father in the middle of this event. After Carlos Snr was accused of filming one of Djokovic’s training sessions on Aorangi Park (a case of mistaken identity, it turned out), Djokovic complained about the lack of intimacy around its practices.
The story was told to Alcaraz in terms suggesting a breach of protocol. Most young players would have gone into fight or flight mode in that awkward moment – but there wasn’t the slightest hint of defensiveness to be seen.
Alcaraz just smiled and replied “Oh, that’s probably true – my dad is a huge tennis fan.” Then, when asked if he could benefit from the alleged subterfuge, he smiled even more. “I don’t think so. I mean, I have a lot of Djokovic videos on all platforms. I think that’s not an advantage for me.
It’s not always the case that a player’s personality matches his tennis. (Former UK No. 1 Kyle Edmund is a counterexample: both a violent ball-striker and the sweetest of souls.) But there’s usually some correlation, and Alcaraz’s personal recklessness is echoes in his playing, with its disconcerting mix of cunning and enthusiasm. .
To deploy it effectively, however, he needs his heart rate and blood pressure to stay relatively low. Certainly lower than in Paris, where they both kicked into high gear, and his muscle fibers locked in sympathy. As Alcaraz said at the time, “If someone says he walks onto the pitch with no nerves playing against Novak, he’s lying.”
Over to you, Mrs. Balaguer.
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