Farewells and claw marks

No me dejes!

The earth shattered and cried and resisted but in the end there was only one. Only one left of the big three, of the greatest tennis players the world had ever seen, the three who pushed each other to new heights so high it was dizzying to watch. Rafael Nadal has bid farewell. Finally, some would say, but I would venture to argue he did it in the only way he knew how. Fighting until the very last moment, until the last drop of sweat was shed, tears and blood accepted as part of the journey, until his body screamed at the top of its lung: ENOUGH. Enough already, leave me be. Find peace, let go. Let THE FUCK go.

In David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest there is a sentence that has always reminded me of Rafael Nadal for some reason: “Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.”

Of course, in Infinite Jest it’s a poster at an AA meeting supposedly helping alcoholics to remain sober. But then again, isn’t addiction an accurate analogy to playing tennis professionally? Maybe not in the beginning when everything seems swell but later on when it’s time to go. It becomes that, an addiction. Something you lost ownership of. You used to play tennis, now tennis plays you. The ups, the downs, the moodiness, the neglecting the family to pursue your thing. Even if at one point it seems to be destroying your life and your body, your hairline and your relationships.

It’s been a thorny path for the kid who shot on the scene like a comet - only 16-years-old with those deep set eyes, the eyebrows above raised in perpetual intensity, successful from the get go - ever since that abdominal injury against Taylor Fritz at Wimbledon. Multiple attempts at comebacks just to endure the immediate setback. The hoping it will become better, the hope shattered shortly thereafter. His flogged body plagued by injuries and daily decisions to test the limits just a bit more seemed to be overwrought. Nadal’s biggest strength became his biggest weakness - as it so often does with human beings. His attitude, his belief that anything is possible if you want it badly enough, his upbringing that giving up is not an option, suddenly stood in his way of seeing things clearly. His body had given him everything and more. 22 major titles, 14 of those at Roland Garros alone, 92 ATP titles, the Olympic gold medal, Davis Cup titles abound. It could not give him anymore. It was done.

the passage of time

Nowadays, people forget how much adversity Rafa faced from audiences. People loved Roger and could not fathom a challenger as dangerous as this boy from Manacor whose whipped forehand opened the tennis court in ways thought geometrically impossible. Rafael Nadal stuck with it. He did his thing, kept winning, kept beating Roger, kept beating him with grace and humility in his heart.

And slowly, they began to like him, increasingly they warmed to him, in the end: they loved him. Passionately. For his decency and his broken English, for the random music video where he makes out with Shakira and his humour that started to shine through once his English improved. Most of all, they loved him for his fighting spirit on court. First, he won titles; then he won the hearts of the people that were so ready to hate him.

la leyenda

The one thing people get wrong about Rafa is his biggest strength. They say it’s his forehand, his athleticism, his tactical intelligence, his way of adapting, his surprising talent at the net. All of this is true in its own right but none of these aspects of his game are his biggest strength. His biggest strength had always been that he was scared. Before every match, even in the 14th year of him winning the French Open, he deeply and profoundly believed that he would lose in the first round to a qualifier. It made him run faster, work harder, try more. It’s where the intensity we learned to love stems from. It’s the source of all his being. This fear made him who he is as a tennis player. Who he was. It made him the greatest athlete to ever play a sport with fear in his heart.

He got away. He took the plunge into the unknown. May he set aside the fear for something else. We wish him luck.

And we will, forever, miss him.

*ugly cries*

this is me since rafa retired

Things that make me happy:

Is there really anything that could make me happy in the same week Rafael Nadal retires from tennis? Well, yes, yes there is. But literally only one thing. My comfort food, my soul cookie, my weighted blanket, my ginger tea: 30 Rock. Particularly when Jack says he can’t have bed bugs because he went to Princeton. Genius.

me and my bodyguard

Things that make me unhappy:

Rafael Nadal retiring, obviously. Also, coffee shops that open at 8am (what about before, people who wake up earlier than 8am need coffee arguably more), rain on my first day of New York and me forgetting that grocery stores in New York are open until basically forever where I could have bought coffee to have in the house. Europe could never. Come on, Europe.

I hope this finds you all well and prepped for the wintery months of rain and tea. As the tennis season is winding down, I will take a break until United Cup and be back better than ever (LOL… those were her last words). It’s not only that it’s the off-season, I am also trying to write a novel and have reserved these next few weeks to focus on only that. But until then, I remain as always:

Yours truly, Andrea