It had to happen one day. Novak Dkojovic would meet his Novak Djokovic. Tennis’s most stubborn champion would encounter a contender who was respectful but unshaken, who wasn’t rattled by his legend, or endurance, or head games, and would rise to the moment, unabashedly, as a young Djokovic once did, long ago.
Djokovic would relinquish the throne, as kings eventually do. But he kept winning, and tennis started to have its doubts. Djokovic continued to add to his unprecedented men’s singles career—23 major titles, the most of all time.
He won another in Australia in January, and Paris in June. He raced to the final of this year’s Wimbledon, already the winner of seven titles here, including the last four. At 36, Djokovic’s grip was firm.
Youth remained foiled. Up-and-comers were spellbound, beaten from the start. It appeared to be happening again Sunday, as Djokovic blew away an inexperienced finalist in the first set.
Then it changed—gradually, then all at once, as the old saying goes. The empire is done. Wimbledon has a new king: Carlos Alcaraz, a 1-6, 7-6(6), 6-1, 3-6, 6-4 winner over an aging titan who finally relinquished his reign.
It was a rollicking match you could feel in your guts, no matter who you pulled for. It offered a bit of everything: momentum for both players, a one-sided start, a tense tiebreaker, a time violation, an extended bathroom break, a broken racket, a rowdy audience alternating between silence and rapture, and a VIP list that included the Prince and Princess of Wales, the King of Spain, and Brad Pitt, the Duke of Handsome. Alcaraz had won a major before—last year’s U.S.
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