Carlos Alcaraz opened a bag of tricks en route to a third-straight Wimbledon final that would have you believe it was the 80s all over again, writes JONATHAN McEVOY

Teatime in Wimbledon is some occasion to attend at this stage of high summer, and that is for certain when Carlos Alcaraz is on manoeuvres.

Two people in the crowd found it too much to handle, medics moving in to take them away from Centre Court under purple and green brollies — the Pimm’s or the sun too much for them.

But Alcaraz kept his cool to reach the final at the All England Club for a third successive time, a 24th victory in succession chalked up since April, and he’s a chief reason to be here at any stage of day in a corner of the capital an American walking in from the tube called ‘a cute little town’.

An unreturnable backhand up the line clinched it in a fourth-set tiebreak, providing a full stop in the afternoon’s proceedings. This most likeable of Spaniards is just 22 and may write one of the latest fairytales of sport if he manages, on a sun-buttered tomorrow, to win the greatest prize in tennis, as he did last year and the one before.

Nobody, not even Roger Federer, who achieved the triple Wimbledon titles aged 23, has succeeded in this task so young, and the Swiss maestro was the all-time darling of the place in the eyes of many, with apologies to a certain Andy.

We might be Federer devotees, or not (I am). But Alcaraz is special, too. Facts say he has made five Grand Slam finals. He has won them all.

This, actually, was not a nerve-jangling contest in some respects, nor was there more than a sprinkling of mega-rallies, but it was far more than a fine, battling win over American Taylor Fritz.

Some of Alcaraz’s serves were wonderfully effective, not his known forte as such — a second-serve beauty that bounced as if on stilts stands out in the memory. 

He powered them over the line so well you could scarcely believe it, unless you had watched this development at Queen’s or in his progress here at SW19.

More typically, what dexterity around the net! Some sensational poise there, a flick, a volley that had you on your knees in admiration, or his opponent on the seat of his pants. It was like the 1980s all over again, that kind of tennis on grass, serve-and-volley in excelsis. ‘He is seeing things in slow motion,’ gushed Andre Agassi, in awe on the BBC.

The crowd — a few bleachers spare among them, mind you — got what they wanted. It was clear from the start where their affections lay. Big-serving Fritz, a flinty opponent, opened the fight. But a beautiful drop shot from Alcaraz won the first point of the match. The acclaim was off the dial, even here in rarefied Wimbledon.

Both played fast throughout, getting on with it. Fair dos to them. Fritz was silent as he played, no exhaling or rasping or yelling. Alcaraz let out the odd grunt, but nothing too bad.

The match was resolved in a sensational tiebreak. Two set points against Alcaraz. He had lost five points on the bounce and, my, the 6ft 5in Californian Fritz fought hard. He refused to disappear. He was granite.

Fritz is a grass-court specialist and that Alcaraz succeeded in closing the match off without it going into a fifth set was a triumph to garner with the win itself, 8-6 in that tiebreak.

‘It was a really difficult match,’ said Alcaraz. ‘It was tough with the conditions, really hot. I am just happy it was the four sets and saving two set points. I am really proud about the way I stayed calm.’

Alcaraz, flushed by success, added: ‘This is my dream, stepping on these beautiful courts at the most beautiful tournament in the world. That is all I try to think about.’

At least, he avoided a deciding set that would have taken a lot more out of him and his legs.

‘I don’t want to think about Sunday,’ he added. ‘I just want to think about this moment.’

That’s what he tried to tell himself, anyway.