Sinner conquers himself in hard-hitting showpiece

They started at the net with their arms around each other and finished 184 minutes later in the same place in roughly the same pose.

- Rohit Brijnath

Respect underpins their rivalry. Skill burnishes it. Ruthlessness triple-coats it. Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz raise roofs and each other's level. They scorch the chalk off lines. They move like a video clip on fast forward. They make rallies sound like firecracker demonstrations.

Damn, they make tennis better. This isn't Jimmy Connors snarling or John McEnroe spraying spittle. That was some rough-hewn, bare-knuckle fun, too, but this is new-age, well-mannered fisticuffs. When Sinner walks up to his family, Alcaraz sits in his chair and applauds. This day, this crown, belonged to the Italian.

People flock to Alcaraz because his smile is like a sunbeam after the rain. Because he'd make a sword swallower blush with the risks he takes. Because he can beat you in four different ways on three different Sundays.

Sinner is more polished architect than adventurer, his game played in straighter, powerful lines, his emotions handcuffed till finally in the end he revealed them, bending down to pat the grass. No one conquers Everest, for that is a conceited idea, they are just thankful for the chance to summit.