Joy to the World: What Carlos Alcaraz has, and what we are enjoying

Among the many wonders we’re likely to witness when top-ranked Jannik Sinner and defending champion Carlos Alcaraz mix it up on Centre Court in the Wimbledon final, the rarest is likely to be a demonstration of this thing called “joy.”

The emotion, so commonly displayed in life, so rarely in tennis, seems to be at the very center of the 22-year-old Spaniard’s being. Some would call it his superpower. Others might describe it as the secret sauce in his success, and the happiness he knows at a time when so many of his peers struggle with occupation-induced stress.

Alcaraz is no stranger to the sting of defeat, or even the loneliness that is part and parcel of the itinerant life on tour. But he’s never lost his capacity for experiencing delight.

“I've been feeling down a lot of times on the tennis court, or on [at] the tournaments,” Alcaraz admitted after his second-round win at Wimbledon. “I'm just really happy to have found the right path again with such a good joy on the court.”

Alcaraz went on to explain that he tries not to focus on outcomes, but on the fundamental pleasure of playing the game—on “living in the moment” and “having fun.” Other players say such things, only to have those goals evaporate under live fire. Alcaraz described every match he gets at Wimbledon as a “gift.” Then he turns right around and presents it to the crowd. It’s a remarkable, three-way transaction.

A cynic might scoff at the idea that joy can be as effective a weapon as a killer drop shot or bazooka serve, but here’s what British star Cam Norrie said after bowing to Alcaraz in the quarterfinals:

Yeah, I think he makes it look quite easy because he's enjoying it so much. Cam Norrie

Alcaraz is gunning for his third consecutive Wimbledon title, his sixth major overall. Sseeded No. 2 despite his 19-match winning streak on the world’s most hallowed court, is one year and nine months younger than Sinner, but he already has two more major singles titles. Alcaraz also enjoys an 8-4 advantage in their series, and has swept their last five meetings—degree of mastery that is somewhat baffling given the spectacular recent arc of Sinner’s career.

Let’s not assume that Sinner doesn’t take as much pleasure out of his own accomplishments as Alcaraz does of his. But “joy “ is not synonymous with pleasure, or satisfaction. It’s more spontaneous, more emotional than mental and, ultimately, it is more communicable—as the French crowd demonstrated a few weeks ago, as it helped Alcaraz overcome Sinner in the waning moments of their epic final at Roland Garros.

“You were unbelievable,” Alcaraz told them when the smoke cleared. “You were insane for me. I mean, I just can't, can't thank you enough for the great support during the whole week, for today's match… For today's match, you were really, really important.”

Alcaraz’s claim that joy is the special fuel powering his game has given people plenty to think about. It has been a strange Wimbledon in that regard, with a number of players stepping up to publicly contemplate the things missing in their lives.

Alexander Zverev, the No. 3 seed, was shocked in the first round by Arthur Rinderknech, but afterward he suggested that his poor performance was based on general despondency. “I've never felt this empty before. Just lacking joy, just lacking joy in everything that I do.”

Former Wimbledon finalist Matteo Berrettini found himself in similar straits. “I am really sorry for the people that helped me to get here and everybody that made it possible,” the Italian star said after he was upset in the first round. Berrettini felt ashamed of his lack of passion on court, explaining, “This is not the way that I wanted to be on court and enjoy out there. I just have to take some time and think about my future.”

Compare that with the words Alcaraz spoke after he defeated Norrie:

Every time, once I start to enjoy a match, to enjoy the moment, I think my level shows (goes) up. My good level shows up. I think today the key was that I didn't think about anything. I just enjoy every single second out there. Playing a quarterfinal at Wimbledon is a gift. Carlos Alcaraz

The players all heard the words of those who have been struggling. To some, including Aryna Sabalenka, joy as personified by Alcaraz seems to have very little place in the hierarchy of desirable attributes and emotions. After losing to Amanda Anisimova in the semis, Sabalenka told reporters: “Losing sucks, you know? You always feel like you want to die, you don’t want to exist anymore, and this is the end of your life.”

That sentiment has always existed in the game, it has powered many a terrific career. It also represents a vision of play in which the premium is on characteristics like grit, tenacity, aggression, courage, determination, striving. It isn’t like Alcaraz doesn’t have some or all of those qualities. He has all of them, but they are all subordinate to joy.

Alcaraz’s peers on both tours appear to think that he’s onto something with this “joy” thing. It’s funny how often the word “enjoy” popped up during interviews at Wimbledon.

“I've been enjoying just this new feeling of being a bit more comfortable on grass,” Iga Swaitek said, just days before she won the singles title. “I'm kind of maybe thinking about it a bit more. Yeah, as you said, when you're playing well, it's easy to enjoy.”

Teenage sensation Mirra Andreeva is not quite as expressive as Alcaraz, but early in the tournament she was asked about her ambitions and mindset. She explained: “Of course, I wanted to win a lot and to achieve great things, but then after I started to play on tour, I was just approaching every match with, you know, trying to enjoy the game. I think that's what brought me here. Every match that I’ve played since the beginning, I was just trying to win every point, just to run for every point, put as many balls on the court as I can—but the most important thing is to just have fun and enjoy.”

It may sound a little yadda-yadda-yadda, but it's not. Tennis may not be joy-averse, but you can be a titan of the game without experiencing the kind of joy that Alcaraz talks about, the kind that often gets lost and discarded on the ladder of success. Somehow, Alcaraz has retained that almost child-like emotion that accompanies running, jumping, whacking a ball with a racquet.

“Here at Wimbledon for me is a gift,” he said last week. “Every match that I'm playing is a gift. I'm trying to make the most of it, trying to enjoy [it] as much as I can. Sometimes it's really difficult, I know. And I accept it.”