Alcaraz, the joy of the game

You have to see him play in person to fully feel it—Carlos Alcaraz.

To sense that he is not, or not only, the player so often described in the media. Of course, he lights up his sport with his talent, his achievements. His smile alone is enough to win over crowds from one stadium to the next. Because Carlos moves lightly, almost playfully, racket in hand.

His duels with Jannik Sinner already belong to the story of tennis. The radiant Spaniard against the impassive snow of the Dolomites. A new kind of yin and yang, all the more compelling as both players consistently show deep respect for one another—like that almost fraternal embrace at the end of last week’s Monte-Carlo final.

Why him? Destiny? Talent? The right environment to nurture the potential he showed from a very young age? Probably a bit of all that.

But there is something else—often noted, often analyzed, so not a surprise: the joy of the game.

Close your eyes for a moment. Breathe. Observe. When Carlos Alcaraz steps onto a court, something in him has already made it his own. Of course, there is the drive to perform, the pre-match adrenaline. But what stands out is his presence—an almost childlike eagerness to play.

Carlos Alcaraz is the joy of the game; the joy of remaining true to oneself, despite pressure and doubt. It is also the acceptance of emotion. And that is precisely what gives his tennis its color, its personality—so bright, so creative. He succeeds, too, because he does not give up who he is in order to reach the top. It is part of the learning process.

Too often, the demands of performance push players into predefined molds, asking them to set aside parts of themselves to carve out a path and face such a challenging world. Yet this very renunciation can turn against us in key moments—when we most need to be fully supported by our own mind.

It is by accepting our strengths, our qualities and our flaws—and by fully integrating them into our game—that tennis begins to resemble us, becoming more personal, more expressive, and ultimately more compelling.

And in those moments, we may also touch one of Carlos Alcaraz’s truths: the joy of the game, and of the present moment.

Illustration generated by Gemini