I do not think Carlos Alcaraz is over his loss to Novak Djokovic in the Olympic final last month. There are other possible explanations for the four-time major champion’s 1-2 record since that 7-6, 7-6 defeat, of course: Alcaraz is probably better on the natural surfaces than hard courts outside Indian Wells, Alcaraz’s body is wrecked after a torrid schedule the past few months, Alcaraz’s game is volatile and is now self-destructing after operating at a high level during Roland-Garros and Wimbledon. But none of that explains Alcaraz breaking a racket in an uncharacteristic fit of rage during his first-round match in Cincinnati, or the fact that he has been running down balls like a madman as per usual, he just can’t find the court. What we seem to have here is a 21-year-old fresh off some good old heartbreak.
Alcaraz has circumvented many of tennis’s typical obstacles to this point in his young and glorious career. He won a major, the 2022 U.S. Open, all of one year after announcing himself to the world with a win over Stefanos Tsitsipas at the 2021 event in Flushing. He did not experience any particularly difficult losses in the interim, save a five-set loss to Matteo Berrettini that he avenged a month later. Alcaraz does not share Jannik Sinner’s impotence in five-setters, Holger Rune’s battles with cramps, or even a hostile relationship with trying to improve a troublesome shot. Unlike Novak Djokovic, Alcaraz did not have to break through a pair of all-time-greats in their physical prime to win a major himself. None of his struggles — with injury, with surface, with opponent — have been prolonged. Alcaraz meets challenges and overcomes them with alarming speed.
The Olympic final, then, must have thrown him for a loop. He had just beaten Djokovic in the Wimbledon final to the ruthless tune of 6-2, 6-2, 7-6, not simply outclassing the greatest player to ever do it but humiliating him. Surely, winning that battle was the end of his competitive rivalry with Djokovic, or at least a meaningful blow that would affect their next bout. Instead, Djokovic returned in supersonic form for the gold medal match, thwarted Alcaraz on eight of eight break points, and handed the kid a loss that he won’t be able to correct until the next Olympics in 2028. Alcaraz, whether because of his aggressive brand of tennis or presence in a generation hopelessly addicted to screens, does not like to wait. Here, for the first time, is an obstacle he can’t just jump over.
Beating Djokovic in this U.S. Open final might have been consolation enough; now that chance is gone. Alcaraz just lost to Botic van de Zandschulp in the second round, the 6-1, 7-5, 6-4 scoreline not surprising numerically but in who scored the win. Alcaraz was erratic in the first set, trying to slam home a winner at every opportunity. He couldn’t even land one, foiled by his own glitches and his opponent’s bafflingly good defense. Alcaraz essentially stuck to the same strategy in set two — greater accuracy earned him a trace of momentum, but the misfires returned and the stanza fell away like the first. In the third, Alcaraz found his first and only break of serve, a love hold and another tense van de Zandschulp service game seemed to promise a fourth set at the least, then once more Alcaraz forgot how to put the ball between the lines. All the while, van de Zandschulp played steady tennis to a nearly comical degree: he sacrificed aces for smart first serves that would set him up to dictate the point, never took risks on a defensive shot since he knew he could count on Alcaraz to miss first, and produced a handful of magic moments at net usually reserved for his opponent.
Botic’s performance was one for the ages, and will stay with me primarily because he never even seemed to leave first gear. His expression changed less during a high-stakes multi-hour battle against a player who is exhausting to compete against then mine does during a peaceful nap. But it shouldn’t have been enough to beat a player of Alcaraz’s ilk, and it especially shouldn’t have been enough to beat him so smoothly. We have seen erratic Alcaraz (any of his five-setters this year) and we have seen tired Alcaraz (the 2022 U.S. Open final). Alcaraz’s off days do not get him bounced from a major in the second round, they drag him into a tough four or five-setter that he usually wins emphatically in the end. This was something new, and worse.
Alcaraz is among the most joyful tennis players you’ll ever see, delighting in not just his own brilliant shots but his opponent’s, and the happiness is infectious. If we’re being honest, though, his phenomenal success rate and nitro-powered path to greatness is probably a primary reason why he seems to enjoy the same kinds of matches that drive many of his peers to existential crises on court. Going out on a limb here, but I imagine it’s easier to smile mid-match when you’re the reigning Roland-Garros and Wimbledon champion than when you’re still trying to string together consecutive wins at a major for the first time in 2024, which van de Zandschulp was. Alcaraz has little to no baggage relative to his peers. Probably the thing he is under most pressure to do is to become one of the best players of all time; if he doesn’t, he’ll have to settle for eight or nine major titles and maybe $100 million in career prize money. Tragic stuff.
So, why the disastrous level in New York? He’s finally had his heart broken. He cannot get back that break point at 4-4 in the first set of the Olympic final on which he managed to get into a rally — having lost all the previous break points almost immediately after the serve — and burned his chance by hitting an uber-low-percentage backhand down the line when the shot wasn’t there. He can’t get back the four consecutive points he lost at the end of the first tiebreak to Djokovic, he can’t get back the five consecutive points he lost at the end of the second, he can’t get back that match and can’t get that gold medal and he just has to keep on playing and these early-round matches in stinking-hot America probably feel worthless by comparison. Alcaraz’s past 18 months on tour are the equivalent of an entire Hall of Fame career hypercondensed into a season and a half. He could probably use a break.
What I don’t think that break will get him, though, is the innocence he played with before losing that Olympic final. Tasting new highs and lows in life irrevocably alters your outlook on the world for better and worse. All your previous standards for emotion are recontextualized; you now know feel like you intimately understand the meaning of the words happy and sad. Alcaraz did flash his trademark grin at moments in this loss to van de Zandschulp, but the fleeting joy would last two minutes and then he’d slap another neutral backhand into the net.
Despite Alcaraz’s accelerated career path, he ran into heartbreak like anybody else. The question now is how he deals with it. Judging from how he’s rebounded from difficult defeats in the past, I imagine he will be fine. But the immediate emotional hangover is undeniable. Alcaraz has a scar now, inflicted upon him at the Olympic Games by a 37-year-old opponent who he was favored to beat and who he may not have many more chances to compete against. I hope Alcaraz keeps smiling on court, and I think he will, because his style of tennis is exhilarating enough to simply demand it at times. Still, I think he’s entered a new phase of his career now. As far as tennis is concerned, Alcaraz isn’t the golden child anymore, he’s just another player on tour, ripe for heartbreak in every big match and in every big moment. Boyhood’s over.
Popcorn Tennis 