Carlos Alcaraz overcomes first-set shock to advance to second round at US Open

Flushing Meadows, a late August afternoon. The sun still poured over Arthur Ashe Stadium, but something felt different in the air. When Carlos Alcaraz emerged from the tunnel, I noticed he tied his shoes twice — a small habit I've only seen on days when he's not entirely comfortable with himself. His first-round US Open match against Australian qualifier Li Tu began with an unconvincing serve. I watch, I record, I keep — but what I kept most was the moment Alcaraz slammed his racket onto the hard court after losing his serve in the first set. The context of this match was not as simple as the scoreline suggested. Li Tu, 28, had retired from the sport in 2026 to work as a coach in Brisbane before returning to professional tennis in 2026. He arrived in New York through three qualifying rounds, winning nine consecutive sets before stepping onto the biggest court of his career. Facing a three-time Grand Slam champion, Li Tu showed no signs of intimidation. Instead, he played fearless attacking tennis, charging to the net 19 times in the first set and winning 14 of those points. Alcaraz, expected to cruise through, suddenly found himself chasing a match his opponent was dictating. What's notable is not that Alcaraz lost the first set — that has happened before. What's notable is how he responded. Looking back at the journey: at the 2026 Australian Open, he lost the first set to Alexander Bublik in round two before winning 3-1. At Roland Garros, he dropped the opening set to Sebastian Korda in round three and won 3-1. The pattern repeats like instinct, but the question remains: why does a player with such command of the court so often start slowly? Based on my experience following his matches since 2026, I've noticed that Alcaraz never enters a match with a rigid tactical plan. He needs time to read his opponent's rhythm, to feel the ball's bounce on that particular day's court surface. In tennis, this is often mistaken for a lack of focus. The second set began with a subtle adjustment. Alcaraz positioned himself about half a meter further behind the baseline when returning serve. He extended rallies, deliberately hitting high-looping balls to Li Tu's forehand instead of trying to end points quickly. His unforced errors dropped from 14 in the first set to just 5 in the second. His first-serve percentage climbed from 54% to 71%. These numbers don't tell the whole story, but they reveal a deliberate adjustment, not blind luck. Alcaraz took the second set 6-4, then the third 6-2, and the fourth 6-1. The match ended after 2 hours and 43 minutes at 4-6, 6-4, 6-2, 6-1. But there was a fire in the locker room after the match. Not the jubilation of an easy victory, but the quiet satisfaction of someone who had overcome himself. Alcaraz told reporters he felt "a bit nervous" in the first set — a rare admission from a player often described as a natural-born genius with limitless confidence. The truth lies in the opposite direction: Alcaraz is one of the most body-aware players on tour. He doesn't force himself to play well before he's ready. He accepts the slow start as part of the process, and that's precisely why he tends to finish stronger. The outside misunderstanding is when people look at a lost first set and conclude Alcaraz has form issues. In reality, look at his 2026 trajectory: Wimbledon champion, Australian Open finalist, Roland Garros quarterfinalist. This is not a player in crisis. This is a player building a deeper game, accepting that not every match begins the same way. In a Grand Slam season where pressure is compressed into two weeks, this adaptability matters more than any forehand. Li Tu, despite the loss, delivered a memorable performance. He left the court to applause, a mark of respect for someone who fought to the final point. The ball rolls past, the people remain — and Li Tu's story at this tournament may have just begun in a different way. For Alcaraz, the road ahead is long. He will face tougher opponents, players who will view his first set against Li Tu as a blueprint to exploit. But if six years of following professional tennis has taught me anything, it's this: never judge a match by the scoreline alone, and never judge a champion by a single set. The Westchester practice courts are quiet, but at Flushing Meadows, a new rhythm is forming. Alcaraz enters round two with a lesson wrapped inside his opening match: greatness is not about never falling, but about knowing when to rise. One beat, one day, one season. And this season, for Alcaraz, still has plenty left to be written.