Masters Cup 2025: Alcaraz completes a splendid comeback against Fritz | Tennis | Sport

Carlos Alcaraz gasps, because this is a day of action. Of sweats. Twisted. Not without shine, but this time more inclined towards blue overalls and stained hands than goldsmithing. Decorations, if necessary. They will never fail. There is that winning intern with a hand that surprises himself, as in the case of a certain Roger Federer. But no, this Alcaraz is the Alcaraz who doesn’t forget his tricks, but at the same time the one who fights in the mud and knows how to use the best of himself to overcome an opponent who turns out to be a mouthful of nettles. It requires the episode of work and growth in delicate moments, which is why it proceeds and gets back up; This is how he defeats the challenging Taylor Fritz (6-7(2), 7-5 and 6-3, after 2h 48min) and reaches the semi-finals of this Masters Cup.

Alcaraz wins and sighs. Honey, come on. After the victory obtained on Sunday against Alex de Minaur, he only needs one more push to reach the semi-final; If the Australian beats Lorenzo Musetti tonight (8.30pm, Movistar+), it will be confirmed. And he also has the other prize at hand, given that if he beats the Italian on Thursday in the group final, he will remain number one. First of all, work and more work. Then, happiness. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of waiting for the right moment. “Everything can change in one point. At 6-5 (in the second set) I had the break pointand this was the turning point. He gave me confidence. I stayed focused and mentally strong and was able to get into third place better. I am very happy to have taken advantage of this opportunity; from there everything went well.

This happens at full speed, without respite from the first exchange and tightening every shot, with nerves on edge. So much intensity, palpable at the first change thanks to Fritz’s concentrated gesture and constant turning of his neck. Again and again the American looks towards his bench, to see if there is any clue that can orient him a little more. The emotional comfort that never fails. The front is hard. His wife covers for him (apparently influencer), his mother, his trainers. Affirmative head nods, choral psychology: You can do it, Taylor. Traditionally optimistic, the North American is guided by will, probably being one of those who place the most trust in it today. If you continue like this the reward will come to you.

Alcaraz pressed from the start, without hesitation: there was no room for stalling here. It is forbidden to fall into haste, but not into mediocrity either. This is the Masters Cup, a field of determined minds and precise shots, because every shot is worth gold and failures translate into tons of ballast. Then he starts as he should, in tune, imposing the rhythm and trying to open an opening right from the start; He understands it, it seems good, but in the war of failures Fritz’s prevails, always in a fixed gear. The mechanics, those two stilts and the light suspension help the ball slide very low and not rise. Flat shot from him and wave for the Murcian, who complains: no, not now. He didn’t touch it. “Fuck you!” he says to himself.

In the tiebreaker, one backhand goes long and another stays in the net. He snorts, he rejoices, but his rival doesn’t turn around and points forward, aware that the day is a question of sensations (of knowing how to enjoy, of knowing how to suffer) and now he is the one who seizes the positive wave, convinced, straight, damaging on a pitch grateful above all to that ball that always travels deep and barely lifts a pair of hands from the ground. Not suitable for those suffering from sciatica. Alcaraz bends his back again and again. “Let’s continue, let’s go, come on!” his people ask from the side, to which he, Murcianico pro, he responds by resisting and pushing back because Fritz pulls and pulls the cart, and the thread can break at any moment: just like that, every man for himself.

The stands are packed and having fun, entertained by those two tennis players who continually rub each other and hit, yes, but who also force themselves to think. Alcaraz steps back on the American’s second serve, to see if he can dent something there, and tries to raise his right foot a little more to see if Fritz, in flames, doubts this. It’s a big mistake for those who reduce this tennis to stones. It’s as long as the solo, 1.96 Californian, but not at all awkward. He moves well, flexes correctly in maneuvers and subtracts sharply. He reads the situation, even if he misses the intern and the Spaniard wags his finger: no, no and no. Number one approaches him. “So you will find things!” “Stay there!” “Battle, battle!” And he survives.

Gritting your teeth, fighting like back in the day terrestrials of May, barely manages to save the third tour of duty, which stretched to 12 minutes. Then he takes a breath in the chair and asks if it’s time to drink the mixture, because the coming and going is putting a strain on his legs and the physical load is getting high, which is more than 75 games in the body and there is thirst. Necessity, rather: “Drink, drink…”. It’s about being there, not about detaching yourself. To trust. And, of course, wait for the moment. Fritz’s crazy performance when he attacks the ball into the net, in the decisive stretch of the second round, opens a door for him and he enters the back of the room. Suddenly, a blessing. The spring I needed. Second victory.