At Philippe Chatrier, 15,000 throats call out to one. They celebrate each of Karolina Muchova’s points.

The love of the Parisian is curious, who opts for the most fragile competitor.

Paris adopts the Czech, the revelation of the tournament these days, an unexpected soul in this Roland Garros final.

And Muchova leaves the skin.

Muchova is not Navratilova, nor Novotna, nor Mandlikova, and in front of her is Iga Swiatek (22), the Polish woman who has already won four majors, three of them at Roland Garros, and who is going to win many more, since there is an abyss between her and the rest.

This is the era of Swiatek, it is absurd to question it.

It is absurd to say that women’s tennis rides aimlessly, without a consolidated leader, when it is in the hands of such an empress.

Swiatek dominates the circuit as Court, Evert, Navratilova, Graf, Seles or Serena Williams had done in their day. His game and his spirit connect her with those, also the stage fright that he instills in his rivals.

Swiatek pulls his cap down to half his face, adjusts his T-shirt so that it falls halfway down his skirt, hides his feelings, barely gesticulates, barely shouts, never curses, puts tennis before glamour, appears fragile, is presumed vulnerable, but his game is a sledgehammer.

His performance is robotic.

He stands at the back of the track and hits with his whole body. It twists when hit, nothing is left in any exchange.

This is how he had progressed through the tournament, without anyone coughing on him. Not a single set had dropped in these two weeks. However, before Muchova, he hesitates.

Muchova opposes, is fierce, sees in this his day.

He has never been here before, who knows if he will experience it again. She is 26 years old and is the 43rd in the world. She will be the 16th this Monday, when the ranking is updated, she is not bad at all, but that does not guarantee her future achievements.

She thinks she sees a light in the second set, when she breaks Swiatek’s serve twice and wins the second set, and Paris applauds her.

And what does Swiatek do?

He takes a breath and settles down. He closes the skylight and draws the curtain: hitting from the back of the court, lengthening the rallies and insisting on the backhand of the czech, he crushes the rebellion.

At 2h45m into the game, perhaps overwhelmed by the weight of the event, Muchova commits a double fault and Swiatek flies over Paris.