“I have the worst memories of Spain, but very few bad memories of the Spanish.”
George Orwell, ‘Homage to Catalonia’
I don’t know about you, but for me the summer crossing of the desert, the season of football drought, is unexpectedly brightening up tennis, a sport I thought I would give up with the absence of Rafa Nadal. To my surprise I found myself in front of the television nine days ago watching the final of a minor tournament, Queen’s in London, which had never before aroused the slightest interest in me.
The reason: the most explosive and most charismatic young athlete in the world, Carlos Alcaraz, winner at Queen’s and number one in the world ranking. I’m not alone. Wherever he plays in the world, the stands are overflowing. The Swede Mats Wilander, a great tennis player in his day and today a television commentator, said it: “Alcaraz is the most exciting tennis player who has ever set foot on a court”.
And, perhaps, with the possible exception of Novak Djokovic, the most complete. The loquacious John McEnroe, who today comments on the Wimbledon matches for the BBC, struggles to find the words to adequately express the admiration he feels for the young Spaniard.
Among the things I noted McEnroe said about him during his three-match win at Wimbledon last week: “He’s got it all, absolutely everything… Backhand, forehand, volley, serve…Brave, tactical, ready, very fast, subtle…. Both good in defense and attack… Adapted to all surfaces… He makes some magical shots, that others can’t even imagine… Incredible… Inexplicable… Surprising…”.
To Alcaraz’s extraordinary ability is added a presence on the court that, at just 20 years old, intimidates the rival and dazzles the public. Bit of a cliché to say that about a Spaniard, and more than an individual with such authentically Iberian facial features, but he is a bull. Fight like a bull, snort like a bull. And he is, at the same time, a showman. He aspires not only to win, but to put on a show. He conveys the arrogance of someone who knows himself as a champion, but it goes down well because you can see that he is having fun with the game like a child and, like a child, he needs the applause of the adults. When he makes a big throw he doesn’t hide his satisfaction, it’s not another plus point. He heads to the stands in search of recognition, but not as a bull this time, but as a bullfighter.
At Wimbledon they have already fallen in love with him. Win or lose, in the current tournament he will be the favorite of the English for a while, and he joins a long list of Spanish athletes that the perfidious Albion have treated as if he were one of their own. Nadal has been the object of adoration in the islands too, as Manolo Santana once was, winner of Wimbledon in 1966. In golf we have Severiano Ballesteros, more loved in the United Kingdom than in Spain.
In football, well, where to start? Xabi Alonso, Juan Mata, David Silva, Fernando Torres and Cesc Fábregas all belong to the rare breed of players admired almost as much by their rivals as by their own fans. In England, they are considered, beyond their sporting gifts, as “good guys”. In the same way as coaches Pep Guardiola, Mikel Arteta, Juande Ramos or Roberto Martínez and even Quique Sánchez Flores.
This makes me happy. As a half-British and half-Spanish person who prefers his Spanish half, I am fueled by a prejudice I have in favor of the country in which I have chosen to live. It consolidates me in the idea that the Spanish are cheerful and friendly, true to what they say they value most in life, being good people. There is no better person than Rafa Nadal in the world of sport, and that is why he has enjoyed a special affection since he became famous in tennis almost two decades ago, when he was the age of his heir from Murcia.
Will Alcaraz be as big as Nadal? Will the prince live up to the king?
Alcaraz has all the resources of Nadal, in addition to a great service, a weapon that the Mallorcan never had, which adds even more merit – along with the ordeal of injuries he has suffered – to the feat of having won 22 Grand Slam trophies. We will see if the injuries respect Alcaraz more. The very serious possibility that he will become the best of all time will depend on this. And if fame and money and the love of the crowds allow him, like Christmas, to keep his feet on the ground, on the grass and on the asphalt. I want to bet yes.
