“I hope Djokovic will lose.” when Roland Garros will host the 2024 Olympic Games;

“I hope he will lose.” a friend who knows we’re off to Roland Garros in the early evening for the men’s semi-finals followed by the mixed doubles final can’t help but shout about Djokovic playing Lorenzo Musetti. The friend accompanying me reminds me that Joko is not only a great player, but also an unusual guy. “He’s full of compassion and he champions a lot of causes, he has a lot to contribute, I love him for that, that’s his real relevance.” In the stands, we scrutinize everything. Coming to Roland Garros is as much about being interested in the game as it is about being there. Being there is as much about watching the match as watching it. A place has its own codes, its own worldliness, its own way of being and ways of dressing. But tonight, all that is shattered. the public is not there to be followed, but to unwaveringly support the champion of their country. There is no danger of the jacket turning over.

Tonight, Roland Garros is the Olympic Stadium, and that changes everything. In no time, Djokovic is leading without batting an eyelid, and we can feel Mussetti wilting fast. We are sad for the Italian, and our sadness is a measure of the fervor of the Italian public, who chanted “Lo/Re/Lo/Re” until the end in support of their failed champion, who sounded increasingly sad. Melancholy descends on Musetti and on the court, tennis is a brutal game, especially at night when people want to go elsewhere for dinner. The public quickly disperses after the victory, but not completely. another match arrives, less prestigious but still important: the mixed doubles final. The rest of society is energetic and noisy, its night is not numbered. Czechs on one side to support Tomasz Machac and Katerina Siniakova. Chinese on the other hand for Wang Xinyu and Jinzheng Zang.

They shout, hit the stands and anything that can make a noise, and curse a lot in English with knife-cut accents. After a while, we no longer understand anything but noise and excitement. Something happens in the audience itself, and we suddenly remember that we are not only at Roland Garros, but in the middle of the Olympic final. The stakes are different and the heroes are no longer just players, but hordes of fans who come head-to-head and win every battle. The beginning of the meeting is soft, almost painful. Night has fallen on the playground, and the desire is strong to leave, but suddenly something grabs, a ball or two stronger than the others, serves to tighten, crush, which causes fear. The stands are tense. It is after 10 pm, my friend exclaims. “That’s it, they’re finally getting to play.” And the game will be tense until the victory of the Czechs in the last minute. Katerina dominates at the end of the exchanges and we see her body open up into the night as the exchange drags on. The audience is shouting above us. “Keep fighting Katerina!” After the decisive point, the gold medalists Katerina and Thomas kiss.

“Are they together?” It must be hard to always do everything together, right? – asks my friend, stunned by so much love on the court. As we leave the stadium, Eurythmics’ hit Sweet Dreams in English plays. As we then walk towards Paris, we wonder about the essence and sweetness of our dreams after such encounters. What can Olympic champions dream about? The mystery thickens.