Hey, look—not all at once—there’s an Italian man in the Wimbledon semifinals. It is not, however, the Italian man you were expecting to see. It’s probably not your second guess, either. Those two guys slugged it out last week, and Jannik Sinner survived that testy second-round stress test from Matteo Berrettini. Sinner, playing in his first-ever major as the top seed, floated through the next two rounds, never in much of a patch of peril, only for his Wimbledon to be cut short in the quarterfinals by a vengeful octopus. Daniil Medvedev, who, after winning his first six matches against Sinner, had lost the last five in a row, managed to stop the bleeding here on the lawns of SW19. It was an exacting, resourceful performance from the player who lost to Sinner in the Australian Open final despite a two-sets-to-none lead, a reminder that Medvedev is more than talented enough to trouble the two prodigious punks who’ve passed him by in the rankings. Sinner, who looked ashen-faced in the middle of the match and took an 11-minute medical time-out for dizziness, has already pulled out of what would’ve been some pre-Olympics clay warm-up in Bastad next week. But meanwhile, on the other side of the draw, another 22-year-old Italian went where Sinner could not: the No. 25 seed with the whooping ground strokes, Lorenzo Musetti.

Musetti is a born stylist on the court, an avatar of fluidity and feel, and many have hoped he’d close the gap between how fun he was to watch and how good he was at tennis. Early in his career he had a whiff of prodigy about him, entering the top 100 as an 18-year-old in the spring of 2021, but he plateaued over the next year, which he attributed to increased pressure and some post-breakup blues. (He has since become a married father!) He clearly has some skills that bother even the best players, and the statement wins would trickle in every so often, typically on clay: Carlos Alcaraz in Hamburg 2022, Novak Djokovic in Monte-Carlo 2023. (Just don’t ask poor Lorenzo about the two separate instances at Roland-Garros where he won two sets against Djokovic before having the life slowly smushed out of him, boa constrictor-style, in 2021 and 2024.) Amid hard-court struggles, it seemed for a while that Musetti would top out as a clay specialist. He is a true dirtballer, controlling rallies with shape and depth. But he seems to be developing a taste for dirt with grass growing in it, too. He is enjoying perhaps the most consistent grass-court season of anyone on tour, with a semifinal in Stuttgart, a final at Queens Club, and now five more wins in gray London.

There are aspects of Musetti’s game that serve him well on both of the natural surfaces. There’s the movement, which is precise and versatile, nullifying the challenges of each, allowing him to defend well on grass and set up his offense well on clay. He can tweak it as needed. This week he has looked just as comfortable playing in Medvedevian deep court positions as he has playing cat-and-mouse points in the front court. And there’s all the pure talent in his hands. Musetti’s got some unteachable touch, which is most apparent in his drop shots and slices but also shines through in his return of serve. For many a one-handed backhand, the return spells death; see dire entries for “Shapovalov, Denis” and “Tsitsipas, Stefanos.” The ball comes in too hot and heavy to time cleanly, and they lack the added stability of a second hand, so they end up slashing at the serve in desperation, with brutally shanky results. But Musetti is a refreshing counter to this trend, even on grass, where the sliding balls complicate the returner’s task even further. Musetti’s deft hand skills open up a whole world of chip returns, letting him block the ball into play with little risk of error and still keep the ball at an awkward height and depth for the opponent.

Those returns tormented Taylor Fritz throughout their five-set quarterfinal on Wednesday. Fritz, who has had to deal with Novak and Rafa misery in all four of his previous major quarterfinals, probably felt cool relief at the sight of a mere Musetti across the net. But he never found a workable solution for the Italian’s variety, for the slice and depth-related high jinks, backed up by some standard-issue baseline bashing. Musetti often liked to chop the ball shallow in the court, daring the net-averse American to move forward and dance at the net. It was the right tactic against Fritz, who has improved his movement throughout his career but won’t be confused for a natural all-court player; just keep him scrambling, never let him feel balanced, and he won’t be able to dial in those technically flawless ground strokes. Musetti said as much afterward: “With a good baseliner like Taylor, if you play every time flat, I cannot win a point. I mean, I’m playing his game. So probably it was the strategy to try to mix every ball and try to lead the game.” He noted that variety has been fundamental to his tennis since he was a kid, and that he never liked being—bless the curious English of tennis players—“mono-automatic on the court.” Musetti saved his best for the fifth set, which he blew open with a double-break before securing the 3–6, 7–6, 6–2, 3–6, 6–1 win.

I would’ve bet good money that Musetti’s first major semifinal would come in Paris, but he’s done it here instead, having survived an in-form Fritz and the service hellfire of Giovanni Mpetshi Perricard in the last two rounds. The dubious reward for his newfound grass-court brilliance: a well-rested Novak Djokovic, who erased Holger Rune in the fourth round and got an Alex de Minaur walkover instead of a quarterfinal. Musetti will need something new for that familiar opponent. The Fritz game plan would not be so effective against Djokovic, who, despite being a month removed from meniscus surgery, is still scooting and sliding around the court the way he has for years and is far more practiced at finishing points at the net. Musetti will have to rummage around amongst his many options and find something else. And if he somehow manages to win two sets, he’ll have to stay cool and block out any intrusive memories of how that’s gone for him, historically. Woof!