How Novak Djokovic beat Carlos Alcaraz to win Olympic gold

PARIS — What does it take to beat the best tennis player in the world?

On Sunday, the greatest player of all time played one of the best matches of his career, taking him nearly three grueling hours and two heart-pounding tie-breaks to win what he has never won in tennis.

With a performance worthy of his age that resulted in a 7-6(3), 7-6(2) victory over Spaniard Carlos Alcaraz on Sunday afternoon at Roland Garros, Serb Novak Djokovic won the Olympic men’s singles gold medal, an award he coveted more than any other but one that had somehow eluded him throughout his unparalleled two-decade career.

When the moment of triumph finally arrived, with an inside-in forehand into the corner, the 37-year-old Djokovic knelt down and immediately gave in to the first round of tears. He went to the net to embrace Alcaraz, who was soon sobbing too, more from heartbreak than euphoria.

And then Djokovic unleashed a spontaneous outpouring of emotion, reminding the world that even after winning more than $100m (£128m) in prize money, 24 Grand Slam singles titles and securing the unofficial title of the greatest tennis player of the modern era, an Olympic gold medal is a white whale for him.

That was what made his career seem incomplete. It wasn’t incomplete anymore.

Djokovic went to the center of the court and knelt in prayer, crossing his chest, eyes closed, looking at the sky, hands raised in the air. He crouched on the clay, crying even harder, his hands shaking.

He stood up and headed toward the stands, where his wife Jelena and children Tara and Stefan were waiting for him a few rows back from the court. Tara grabbed him by the neck first, reducing her father to a puddle as Jelena and Stefan joined in the embrace.

Just two months ago, in this same city, he was lying on an operating table as surgeons worked on a torn meniscus that ended his French Open title defense before the quarterfinals. Now he’s back at Roland Garros to achieve the goal he said was most important to him when he started the season — a season that dragged on for months, filled mostly with frustration and injuries, and definitely not filled with tournament wins.

It all ended in bright, late afternoon sunshine on Court Philippe-Chatrier, where Djokovic had won the French Open three times. Thomas Bach, the president of the International Olympic Committee, hung the gold medal around his neck.

Djokovic kissed the ball repeatedly, showing it to his family and the rest of the crowd, who had been chanting his name from the very beginning of the match.

“The most special feeling,” Djokovic said later. He considered carrying his country’s flag at the 2012 Open to be the greatest experience of his sporting life.

“It’s beyond anything I could have imagined,” he said.

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A little over a year ago, the Parisian public watched him win a record-breaking 23rd Grand Slam. On Sunday, they came to see him make a more personal version of history.

Few gave him any real chance of beating Alcaraz, who has won two Grand Slam titles in the past two months and has reached a level of awe-inspiring superiority at the age of 21. He plays a version of tennis that few, if any, are familiar with. Djokovic has found a way to match him anyway.

Alcaraz gave Djokovic everything he could handle, reaching a level he had only had to reach against the greatest of all time – Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, Stan Wawrinka and Andy Murray.

From the first balls on Sunday afternoon it was clear that Djokovic and Alcaraz wanted to play and that defeating their opponent would require only their best play.

It was nothing compared to last month’s Wimbledon final, when Djokovic, 39 days after knee surgery, returned to the court exhausted and Alcaraz pushed him off.

This was still Alcaraz, who hits almost every backhand and forehand he can, while also adding the world’s most delicate and deceptive drop shots. But this time he met Djokovic, who chases more balls than anyone else and returns them with a quality that switches him from defense to attack in a heartbeat. It was a case of shared intensity raising the bar, less than shared stakes. Alcaraz has many more Olympics left in him; these are probably Djokovic’s last.

They lasered serves down the line at key moments. They sprinted into drop-shot returns that flew almost parallel to the net. Djokovic whined through points he desperately needed. Alcaraz whined on forehands that he hit into the deepest corners from 200 feet away, sounding like he was shouting in your ear.

Already in the first games, Alcaraz sensed that this would be a completely different Djokovic than the one he had faced for a long time.

“I had a really hungry Novak in front of me,” he said later, as his sadness at letting down the Spanish nation turned into pride and satisfaction at the effort he had put in.

“I’m leaving this tournament with my head held high. I gave it my all on the court today.”

Both did so. The first set lasted 93 minutes. The second set lasted 77 minutes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever played like that for three hours,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief at what he had just endured. Only the occasional decision — crossing the court down the line, hitting a drop shot or lob before serving — was off. The ultimate difference was Djokovic, who found his best tennis in saving break points and taking advantage of opportunities; Alcaraz could only do the former.

That was still almost enough, and no less than two of Djokovic’s trademark flawless tie-breaks were enough to win the match. One mistake in either one and a different-colored medal could have landed around his neck.

He scored the first goal by running all over the court and diving for a forehand drop volley that even the fastest player in the game couldn’t be bothered to attempt.

In the second instance, the player with arguably the greatest backhand in history played four of the most perfect forehands of his career when everything was on the line.

The first came on the first point, in a full sprint across the baseline. He unleashed a scandalous short, twisting cross-court, from an angle familiar to anyone who watched when he first began to redraw the dimensions of the court two years ago.

Four points later he did it again, again driving right and landing a cross-court shot, a “hit it like you really want it” (as he put it long ago) that he smashed to give Roger Federer the match point that clinched the 2011 US Open semifinals.

Same shot. Same result.

On the next point, there would be another killer forehand, inside-in, to the postage stamp corner to set up a drop shot. And then there would be another one, the target of which was obvious even before his hand started moving forward. Inside-in again, that corner again, and once again Alcaraz couldn’t get it back.

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“The intensity of emotion I felt then was something I had never felt before,” Djokovic said.

The pressure has been building for 16 years, and the intensity of his country’s expectations to deliver a gold medal has only grown stronger. Alcaraz also said the pressure of the Olympics was so different from anything he has endured before, knowing that even the best players with the longest careers only have a handful of chances to win a gold medal.

Djokovic felt his first liberation when he defeated Lorenzo Musetti in the semifinals. Surpassing his 2008 bronze medal, he fell on his back and celebrated as if he had won the tournament.

After that victory, he spoke in a way that suggested he had found a way to convince himself that Alcaraz was beatable, despite the beating he had suffered three weeks earlier.

Alcaraz was the favorite. He had won the last two Grand Slams. His Wimbledon title, won after the French Open, is no less a transfer of power in tennis because of that result.

But Djokovic felt he was a different player now, three weeks after knee surgery. He moved and hit the ball better, and that was before Sunday, when the sound of a racket hitting sounded like it hadn’t sounded in a year, maybe longer.

“I feel more confident and have a better chance of reaching the final,” he said.

In other words, somehow the world had changed completely in less than a month, at least in his mind, even if it hadn’t really. And these were the Olympics, he said. Best of three sets—“anyone can win.”

Of course there were doubts. There always are.

“But the faith and conviction I have in this are stronger than my doubts,” he said.

Earlier in the Games, he had told Bach not to count him out for Los Angeles in 2028, when he would be 41. He said it again Sunday night, with a gold medal around his neck and a Serbian flag draped over his shoulders, and then quickly snapped his thoughts back to the present, something few have done better on the tennis court.

Aside from Gumby’s flexibility, agility, and lightning-fast reflexes, this is his true superpower.

“It’s been a long journey, many, many years of dreaming of winning a gold medal,” he said.

“I knew it would happen, I just didn’t know when.”

(Top photos: Getty Images; design: Dan Goldfarb)