Joao Fonseca is following the Roland Garros trail blazed by Gustavo Kuerten

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In the waning days of Roland Garros in 1997, a festival took place the likes of which Paris had rarely, if ever, before seen. The ivy-covered walls of the stadium reverberated to the sound of drumming, chants and tin horns. The seats were a riot of green and buttercup yellow jerseys, the kit of the renowned Brazilian national soccer team. Some spectators danced the Samba.

But this was not futbol. It was the staid sport of tennis, hosting a pop-up, early-June version of Carnival. And at the eye of this hurricane of joy stood Gustavo “Guga” Kuerten, a 6'3", 20-year-old Brazilian with hair like a puffball mushroom, a passion for surfing, long and limber limbs, and a one-handed backhand to die for—or from.

Hordes of Brazilians in and around Paris, many who did not even understand tennis scoring, flooded Roland Garros as Kuerten advanced through the draw. Although tennis was still a buttoned-up sport, few spectators could resist the Brazilians’ passion and energy, and they were rewarded when Kuerten won his nation’s first men’s Grand Slam singles title.

Something like that is unfolding at the moment around another Brazilian, 18-year-old Joao Fonseca. Curly-haired, with the face of a cherub but the forehand of a terminator, Fonseca is tennis’ new sensation. His preternaturally mature game floors analysts, his peers shower him with accolades, and fans from Buenos Aires to Indian Wells to Madrid and, now, Paris wait for hours to see him—and to bring the noise and energy.

“He already has such a huge following,” Tennis Channel analyst Paul Annacone said of Fonseca’s impact in a recent broadcast. “He’s one of these guys who is a great shotmaker, who hits winners from everywhere on the court. And you talk about his charisma. . . Fonseca also says all the right things, and does all the right things.”

Annacone’s colleague Tracy Austin was more direct, saying:

He is the future of men’s tennis.

But Fonseca is also a link to the game’s past as he begins to build on the legacy of Kuerten, the first player ever to win a Challenger title and a Grand Slam title in succession (just before winning Roland Garros, Guga won the Challenger event in Curitiba, Brazil). Ranked No. 66 that year, Kuerten also ranks as one of just three unseeded players ever to claim a Roland Garros title.

Take note: Fonseca is already ranked higher than that in the live rankings.

Fonseca shares more than charisma and a spectacular game with Kuerten, who once told me that he learned the game on a strange surface that was more like a hard court than clay. Fonseca, while weaned on red dirt, has a similar tool box. It includes a big serve, a knockout forehand and an instinct for attacking play.

As fellow Brazilian Marcelo Melo, a doubles standout, said of Fonseca in a recent interview with ATP media: “He’d rather take the game, take the match and win—or not. He does not wait for the opponent, maybe to miss or lose. . . A couple of professional Top-10 players have this. They go for it.”

This isn’t what you might expect from a clay-bred player with an easy-going, Brazilian sensibility—and a sensitivity to why Kuerten became such a beloved, global star.

“We have Guga, who is a legend of this sport,” Fonseca said earlier in the week. “[But] he's a legend for us Brazilians, not because of his tennis but because of his charisma, the way he talks to people, the way that he does his interviews and et cetera.”

The example for Fonseca has been set, but the game has evolved a great deal since Guga’s heyday. Fonseca is a testament to that, and he’s clearly a product of his times.

The Big Three launched what could be called tennis’ industrial age—a time of robust, global growth—but also one of increasing uniformity and homogeneity at every level: training, equipment, style, court surface nutrition, team size. Fonseca was shaped in this more hyper-energized environment in which the degree of professionalism for all players went through the roof.

Foreshadowing the trend, Kuerten was one of the first players to experiment with and adopt polyester strings. They were a boon to his signature stroke, a one-handed, topspin backhand. But even that was not enough to revitalize the shot over the long term. Hence, Fonseca and most of his peers play with a standard issue if deadly two-hander.

Kuerten’s game had some features that in today’s world of clean ball-striking may seem like quirks, including his long take-backs and swings. Those traits account for the difficulties Kuerten experienced on grass (despite having been a year-end No. 1, Kuerten got as far as the third round at Wimbledon only once). Fonseca’s game is more compact, cleaner, and bombproof in the same way as, say, Jannik Sinner’s. You can put that down to high quality, early training.

The overall culture in which top players operate also is different. Back in the day, you could bump into Guga wandering the halls of a tournament hotel in a baja hoodie and “socks and (Birken)stocks.” But today’s level of professionalism, as well as sponsor obligations, rule out yielding to much individual style. Your uniform is whatever your sponsor says it is.

There’s an overall sense that tennis has gone corporate and media savvy, that careers are carefully scripted by an entire support team. That makes life for today’s pros easier in some ways, more difficult in others.

“I'm just enjoying my career,” Fonseca said in his pre-tournament press conference in Paris. “I'm reaching some good things. I'm young, so I'm learning every week. . .I try to focus on my routine, what I need to do, focus on good people on my side helping me achieve good things. I'm learning every week how to adapt.”

When Kuerten was inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame in 2012, he told a small group of reporters that he viewed the emergent Big Three as “super heroes.” He didn’t envy the advantages they enjoyed in the changing game, he just wished he were more “connnected” with them. He felt they helped make tennis accessible for everyone, in a way he understood at the gut level.

“You can feel them more close to a human being. I think that [also] was a big contribution that I did, bringing tennis a little bit closer to humanity, [making it] more easy to understand for all classes. In Brazil, for me it's a great pleasure when I see guys (who) sometimes have a hard time to write or to count, and [yet] they know 15-30, 30-All, break point.”

We are in a different era now, and the games, actions and attitudes of players like Fonseca will reflect that. The new Brazilian sensation won’t be able to walk in Kuerten’s footprints, but the trail that Guga blazed is still there and Fonseca seems aware of it.

The French fans who attend Roland Garros can be notoriously partisan, as Fonseca saw during his second-round win over Pierre-Hugues Herbert. But he embraced the atmosphere, taking their antics in stride. Enjoying it.

“I come from Brazil,” he told reporters after the clean three-set win, “I mean, I went to a lot of matches, football matches. It's loud. Brazilian people are loud also. I just respect [fans]. . . The rivalry between the crowds today was just super. [It was] nice to see the Brazilians calling my name, and then the French ones call Pierre's name. For me, [it was] just nice.”

Vibes similar to 1997 also enlivened Roland Garros on the other two occasions when Kuerten won (2000 and 2001). During that last go-round, Guga survived a match point in a match with Michael Russel, then immediately used his racquet to draw a heart for the fans in the red clay. By then, he was firmly entrenched in theirs as well.

Perhaps Fonseca will be lucky enough to experience something similar.