Agency :
This was the sort of point in the sort of contest that, if 19-year-old Carlos Alcaraz eventually reaches the heights so many believe he will, the lucky folks on hand at Court Simonne Mathieu on Wednesday night just might regale dinner guests for years with tales that begin, “We were there when …” Not, mind you, the match point Alcaraz saved in his second-round French Open marathon against Albert Ramos-Vinolas, a fellow Spaniard who is 15 years his elder.
That one, necessary as it was, of course, to the eventual 6-1, 6-7 (7), 5-7, 7-6 (2), 6-4 outcome in the No. 6-seeded Alcaraz’s favour, was rather mundane: a three-stroke exchange that ended with Ramos-Vinolas pushing a nervous-looking forehand into the net while serving for the win at 5-4 in the fourth set.
No, instead, let’s examine what happened on a break point at 4-all in the fifth, with Alcaraz leading, Ramos-Vinolas serving, the crowd holding its breath and the stadium clock already reading 4 hours, 31 minutes.
On the sixth of what would become 15 strokes, Alcaraz tried one of his feathery drop shots. Ramos-Vinolas got to it and responded by sending the ball off the baseline, forcing Alcaraz to race to his left to flick a no-look backhand lob.
Ramos-Vinolas replied with an overhead to that corner, sending Alcaraz well wide of the doubles alley for another defensive backhand lob.
Vinolas-Ramos guided this one to the opposite corner, pushing Alcaraz to his forehand side, so he sprinted, then slid almost into the splits, to retrieve that one.
Yet another lob produced yet another overhead, again back to Alcaraz’s left, and this time he came up with a down-the-line backhand passing shot that Ramos-Vinola volleyed into the net.
Some in the crowd were on their feet during that series of exchanges; all were by the end. Ramos-Vinola chucked his racket into the net.
Alcaraz raised his arms and index fingers to the sky – a gesture for “No. 1,” a spot expected of him one day, perhaps soon – while in the stands, his coach, 2003 French Open champion Juan Carlos Ferrero, pointed to his temples. Alcaraz wouldn’t cede another point.
