For years, many Grand Slam finals became, spontaneously, anevent.When Rafael Nadal played Roger Federer, or Federer faced Novak Djokovic, or Djokovic took on Andy Murray, and the games stretched into sets, and sets into hours, and morning on the East Coast turned to afternoon, word would spread. Something was happening, something not to be missed—something precious because it was both rare and recognizable, not least because it kept happening. But thenFederer retired, and Murray andNadalacceded to the inevitable, and there was only Djokovic, chasing his own shadow. The sport, in the United States at least, became something smaller, more niche. But, on a Sunday in early June, tennis was happening again.
There, in the 2025 French Open final, was the No. 1 player in the world facing the No. 2. An orderly Italian known for his precision and Alpine reserve against a passionate Spaniard. A machine of suffocating reliability against a creative, unpredictable genius. As Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz played deep into the fourth and fifth sets, word spread, just as it used to. Social media lit up. TVs turned on. Texts flew. Even the most hard-core fans, the ones who know how little separates the good from the great, who see brilliant tennis played in an ordinary second round at a smaller event in Metz, struggled to put what they were witnessing into context. Was it the best match since Federer had played Nadal in the 2008 Wimbledon final? Was it better than that? The quality of shotmaking only increased as the pressure went up and up, and time passed, and the reserves depleted. Late in the fourth set, after Alcaraz had already saved three match points, and throughout the fifth, they nailed quick-twitch volleys, raced to drop shots that were dead on the bounce, flung forehands on the run, obliterated the distinction between offense and defense. Finally, the pyrotechnics reached a grand finale, as Alcaraz raced to a 7–0 lead in the fifth-set tiebreak and finally won the match with a sprinting forehand down the line. Alcaraz’s tennis during that bout was more than impressive; it was euphoric. And the match had the same old magic, the quality of something new.
Alcaraz knew. “I think I have a rival,” he had said, afterdefeating Djokovicto win the 2023 Wimbledon title. “I’m not afraid to say it.” He wasn’t talking about the old guard—it was Sinner against whom he gauged himself. “He and I have already had great battles on all surfaces and in various tournaments, and I believe we will fight together for major titles in the future as well.” The tantalizing potential of the rivalry became apparent during a match at the 2022 U.S. Open—featuring not only long exchanges of bludgeoning ground strokes but feathery drop shots and sharp angles, all-court innovations that obliterated the usual axes between offense and defense, front court and back. Still, it was a surprising thing to say at the time. Alcaraz was already a champion, newly No. 1; Sinner was the eighth seed and, in the semifinals, had been easy prey for Djokovic.
It has seemed, in a way, as if Alcaraz willed the rivalry into being, even before 2022. Alcaraz, then fifteen years old, faced Sinner, then seventeen, in the Spaniard’s first-ever professional tennis match; Alcaraz won in three sets. Perhaps that set the stage for him, his sense of what the sport would be. Perhaps he needed it, to focus his ambition. He is an intuitive player, prone to emotional swings; he’s at his best when he is happiest, inspired. During matches against other players, he seemed at times to be distracted, irritated, a showman. Against Sinner, he was routinely sublime. Sinner, for his part, played back then a more ordinary baseliner’s game—pure, clean ball-striking, but hit in predictable patterns. As he ascended the ranking, partly behind a much-improved serve, he added new dimensions to his game, more variation and touch, until only Alcaraz could unsettle him. Last year, Sinner’s record against all other A.T.P. players was 73–3. Against Alcaraz, it was 0–3.
“It is a privilege to share the court with you in every tournament,” Alcaraz said to Sinner, on court at Roland Garros, after defeating him for the title. “I am just really, really happy to be able to make history with you.” Easy for Alcaraz to say, maybe. He won. That the rivalry favors Alcaraz so far—he leads Sinner 8–4—may be one reason he seems so invested in it. But there is another dimension to his frequent references to Sinner, his eagerness to put them on par. Alcaraz took home his first Grand Slam when he was only nineteen years old. He was five when Federer faced Nadal at Wimbledon in that iconic match. He grew up with the Big Three, with the sense that rivalries make history, just as he grew up with light racquets and polyester monofilament strings. For Sinner, who is more consistent than Alcaraz from week to week, the rivalry is humanizing. Sinner, who can come across as robotic and cool, seems to need that, too. “Every time when I play against him, I feel, like, that we both try to push ourselves to the limit,”Sinner said,in 2023. “We hate losing, especially against each other. We have a very good relationship off court—and I feel like we are good friends. But still, you know, on court . . . you feel a little bit nervous.” There are limits to that friendship. When Sinner missed three months of the tour after the Australian Open, while serving a doping suspension as part of a settlement for failed drug tests in 2024 (it was judged an accidental contamination), Alcaraz said he was not among those who reached out to him. But, when Alcaraz defeated Sinner in the final of the Rome Open, Sinner’s first tournament back, Alcaraz had nothing but warm words: “I’m not gonna get tired of saying how amazing a person, an athlete you are.”
How is it possible that a rivalry this sublime has emerged so soon after the sport’s golden era? The tennis journalist Giri Nathan has a book, “Changeover,” about Sinner and Alcaraz that isn’t even out yet, but already seems thrillingly historical. “The era that they were ushering in is—the ushering is over; we’re just in it,” hetoldanother tennis journalist, Ben Rothenberg. “We’re in it right now.” Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised. Alcaraz’s game, like Sinner’s, is built on inheritances—and that’s how it should be. From a young age, Sinner and Alcaraz learned to hit ground strokes that dipped and drove, as Nadal’s did, with clear margins and heavy with spin. They slid into corners, like Djokovic, and learned to hit rally forehands from a full stretch; like Federer, they were not afraid of the net. They kept abreast of the latest recovery science, guarded their rest, treated food as fuel, found coaches who seemed to care for them as people, who fussed over their happiness, who concerned themselves with the fullness of life.
There are differences between Sinner’s and Alcaraz’s games. So far, at least, Alcaraz has looked a little more comfortable on natural surfaces, clay and grass, and Sinner has dominated on hard courts. Alcaraz’s level has more variance, and his game has more variation. Sinner always comes to play. At the French Open, Sinner won more of the shorter points, while Alcaraz won more points that lasted longer than four shots. But, when they face each other, their games are remarkable not because of the contrasting styles but because of how much they converge.
What the players are missing, they can find in the example of each other. Their dynamic seems born not of enmity but something almost more collaborative. That’s true on a technical level, as they improve their games to keep pace and push ahead. Sinner changed his service mechanics, moving from a platform to a pinpoint stance, which helped vault him to the top of the game. Alcaraz changed his serve, too, shoring up what was perhaps the most underdeveloped part of his game. (In the final at Queen’s Club, leading up to Wimbledon, Alcaraz hit eighteen aces.) And it is true in a more psychological sense as well, encouraging creativity from Sinner, and discipline from Alcaraz. This week is the beginning of Wimbledon—tennis’s most prestigious title. Alcaraz has won the past two years in a row. Part of the glory of sport comes from a constant sense of renewal. The ball is in Sinner’s court now. ♦
