He didn't like clay.
Since his accession to the highest level of world tennis, at barely 20 years old, everyone has wondered about his ability to perform well at Roland Garros.
Finalist in Australia, winner since two Masters 1000 on cement, he dispatched the exchanges in three strokes of the racket, and more often with his only service, falling from the top of his almost 2 meters and pinning the best raisers on the planet to the ground. .
My tennis culture was just the opposite.
Born into a family of fanatics of the little yellow ball, I had learned to play for granted, as one learns to read.
Without excessive pleasure, however, when it came to covered court, the annoying resonance of balls against the metal walls.
But with happiness as soon as the beginning of spring announced the return to the earth, the matt and velvety rebound, the pleasure of sliding, and even the chic of coral dust on white socks.
And then I liked the strategy
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