There is a moment in tennis when talent stops being enough and the territory of champions begins. It is the moment in which the body must support what the head and hand are already doing perfectly. Lorenzo Musetti, in Paris as in Melbourne, arrived ahead of everyone: two sets ahead, the crowd on his side, the match in hand. Then, like a memory no one wanted to relive, the story stopped suddenly. Not for a mistake, not for an immediate break. For a retreat.
Against Alcaraz at Roland Garros, against Djokovic at the Australian Openthe script repeated itself with disturbing precision. And then the question stops being uncomfortable and becomes necessary: is it just bad luck or the price to pay when talent runs faster than body?
