“He reminds me of Federer,” said Ivan Ljubicic, Federer’s former coach, recently regarding Carlos Alcaraz, as if the tennis world had completed a poetic dialogue spanning two decades. This Croatian patriarch precisely captured the ineffable similarity between two geniuses from different eras: “They are always looking for the winning point, always staying proactive.” Alcaraz’s rise not only signifies a shift in power within men’s tennis but also symbolizes a revival of a nearly extinct tennis aesthetic: the ability to perfectly blend competitive sharpness with artistic expression, which was thought to have vanished forever with Federer’s retirement.
The similarity between Alcaraz and Federer is first evident in their eternal desire for control in matches. Ljubicic astutely noted that both players “always keep you guessing about what will happen next.” In a modern tennis landscape dominated by baseline rallies, Federer paved a new path with his elegant all-court style, while today’s Alcaraz embodies that spirit in a more wild manner. The young Spaniard’s seemingly impossible net shots, sudden drop shots, and astonishing passing shots essentially echo Federer’s half-volley tactics, challenging the conventional logic of tennis. While most players pursue stability and low error rates, they turn unpredictability into a weapon. This spiritual similarity runs deeper than mere technical resemblance.
However, Ljubicic’s observation conceals a more subtle contrast: “Federer plays more efficiently, while Alcaraz seems to enjoy the game more.” This judgment reveals the evolution of tennis aesthetics across different eras. Federer’s elegance is built on near-machine-like precision in his play, with every movement meticulously honed, akin to Swiss watchmaking. In contrast, Alcaraz’s game is infused with a spontaneous Latin flair, his smile and exaggerated body language expressing more primal emotions. This difference reflects, to some extent, the transition of tennis from a gentleman’s club to mass entertainment, with Federer being the last king to uphold traditional tennis modesty, while Alcaraz is the first true “performer” of the digital age.
Ljubicic emphasized: “Spectacular performances are a byproduct of Federer’s game, not a deliberate pursuit.” This statement encapsulates the essential contradiction of the tennis artist. Federer’s greatness lies in the fact that his breathtaking shots were never designed to please the audience but are natural products of a logic aimed at victory. This purity is at the core of his aesthetic value. In contrast, Alcaraz, the young Spaniard, does occasionally exhibit a tendency to perform for the sake of performance, with risky attempts sometimes exceeding the actual needs of the match. Yet it is this very trait that has garnered him unprecedented resonance among the new generation of viewers. In an era dominated by short videos, Alcaraz’s matches are naturally suited for editing into highlight reels, and his awareness of performance is, in some ways, an evolutionary response to the new media environment.
On a technical level, the similarities and differences between the two players are equally intriguing. Federer’s single-handed backhand contrasts sharply with Alcaraz’s double-handed one, but both possess textbook-quality forehands. The Swiss’s serving efficiency is higher, while the young Spaniard’s mobility may be superior. The greatest commonality lies in their extraordinary control over spin and placement; Federer’s flat shots and Alcaraz’s super topspin may seem polar opposites, yet both can create a bounce that is difficult for opponents to handle. A more fundamental similarity is found in their tactical intelligence: both excel at continuously adjusting their strategies during matches, winning not just through power but also through intellect.
Ljubicic’s comparison inevitably raises a deeper question: Can we find Federer’s shadow in Alcaraz to fill the emotional void left by the Swiss maestro’s retirement? To some extent, this projection does exist. Federer’s departure created a significant void in the tennis viewing experience, and audiences yearn for a new figure to carry that torch. Alcaraz has emerged at just the right moment, fulfilling this desire with his rich technical arsenal and distinct personal charm. However, it is unfair to view the young player merely as a replica of his predecessor; Alcaraz is crafting his own legend, and his achievements do not require comparisons with anyone else to validate them.
Tennis is at a critical turning point. As the era of the Big Three gradually comes to an end, the sport needs new narratives and new heroes. Alcaraz embodies both the weight of tradition and the vitality of innovation. He evokes memories of Federer, yet he is entirely a product of the 2020s. Ljubicic’s evaluation is precious because it acknowledges the continuity of history while not overlooking the uniqueness of the new generation. In Alcaraz’s imaginative shots, we can indeed see the continuation of Federer’s spirit, but more importantly, we witness the sport’s capacity for self-renewal. When this young Spaniard smiles on the court, it is not only a display of personal charm but also a testament to the enduring appeal of this ancient sport.(Source: Tennis Home, Author: Mei )