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…

I came to tennis late in life, despite a connection that had been well-marked since childhood by the annual rhythm of Roland-Garros every spring. It just happened like that, during an ordinary match: the sound of a ball snapping against the strings. A click. That sound you then dream of hearing again and again, the adrenaline of it—that sound that brings such a unique sense of joy. That sound which Jannik Sinner once explained plays a special role in his work and his relationship with tennis. Ces moments de joie répétés me ramènent curieusement au cœur des philosophies des arts martiaux et du zen lorsque l’esprit, débarrassé du mental bruyant,…