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TennisEnthusiast

Whats so special about Rafael Nadal anyway?

by Moondancer

NOTE: If a reader knows a link for this article, please let me know so that I can add it to this post.

Tennis has always been one of my favourite sports. Two men introduced me to the game: my father and John McEnroe; the first by sitting next to me on the sofa in front of the tv, patiently explaining the rules and the second by playing a Wimbledon final against Borg. For me personally, the 90s are the dark ages of tennis, since Im not a fan of big servers. So, with the Sampras era, my interest for the sport faded away. However, in 2005, two men rekindled my passion for tennis: my dad and Rafael Nadal. Let me retrace my steps a bit.

My dad was a keen sports fan. He was a good athlete when he was a young man (I now have his medals with me at home) and he went on to be an armchair athlete later on. My father was a very strict man and I was often a bit scared of him, especially when he towered over me while disciplining me for something I probably shouldnt have done. He was a tall, strong man who expected his children to listen to him. At the same time, he was my hero.

One sunny Sunday afternoon in 1982, I decided to go outside to play with my friends. On my way out, I found my father in a very enthusiastic state. He was watching tennis and obviously having a lot of fun. So, I decided to sit down next to him on the sofa to find out what the fuss was all about. It was the Wimbledon final between Bjorn The Iceberg Borg and John The Brat McEnroe. John McEnroe and Bjorn Borg

In no time at all, I was hooked and became a huge McEnroe fan much to the chagrin of my father. He was a Connors fan, you see. People who remember that era can probably imagine that a Connors vs McEnroe match was not just a spectacle on court but often at our home as well. I was so fond of the sport that I even had tennis lessons back then but my eye-hand coordination or total lack thereof drove my tennis teacher crazy.

McEnroes retirement was tough for me to handle but I kept watching the sport since there were plenty of exciting players left in the game. I went through a Boris Becker stage; I had an ongoing argument with my best friend about Agassi until we reached the booming serve era of players like Sampras, Krajicek, Phillippoussis (only a very loyal fan of the man can probably write his name without checking first), Ivanisevic. As a tennis fan, I admire their skills (often enough, I wished that my own favourites possessed such an ace machine in their serving arm during tough moments) and achievements, but it introduced a break in my love for tennis for quite a while. I found an ally in my dad when I ranted about the boring big servers. Later on, I discovered the feisty Aussie Lleyton Hewitt and I liked the little fighter from down under right away but I still wasnt paying a lot of attention to tennis.

On another sunny Sunday afternoon in 2005, I was contemplating going outside to have some fun when my dad phoned me up.
Are you watching the match? he asked with clear excitement in his voice.
Match? Erno, why?
Well, let me put it this way: its been a long, long time since I had this much fun watching tennis.
Anytime my father was this visibly excited about something, it had to be about something very special because he was a reserved man in general so I switched on my tv, looked up the right channel to watch the match and got comfortable.

Rafael Nadal

Before I knew it, I was jumping up and down on my sofa, watching the tense moments between my fingers which were covering my eyes, urging one of the players on to win the final and doing a little celebration dance when my favourite came out as the winner: Rafael Nadal; hook, line and sinker.

Ive always preferred the clay court game. Somebody once called it chess on a big scale and I very much agree with that. None of the quick pointsace, ace, non returnable serve, acegame. No, give me two players patiently trading shots, mixing them up, varying the speed, using various tactics to outsmart the opponent while playing the cat and mouse game until the umpire utters the words game, set and match. Like father, like daughter. No wonder my father loved that Roland Garros final so much.

I was fascinated with the Spanish player wearing that non-typical tennis outfit: his movement, the patience shown, the drop shots, the slides with the timing so right that you had to watch the point back in slow motion to fully comprehend the beauty of it all.
And he's another lefty!
Rafael Nadal

Watching the trophy ceremony, I was struck by how different Rafael Nadal looked once the match was over. Gone was the scary glare and instead a great, beaming smile had taken up residence on his face.

Afterwards, I did two things: got online to look up the name Rafael Nadal and phoned my dad to thank him for urging me to watch the match and I heard him chuckle when he heard my enthusiasm.

I later got my hands on older matches of Rafael Nadal (like his Davis Cup final match against Roddick in Spain and the legendary Rome match against Coria; another player who used to be a lot of fun to watchthat match is one of my favourites) and I discussed those matches with my dad.

In one of those long conversations, my father expressed how he liked to see the joy when Rafael Nadal plays tennis, the passion. How relieved he was to see that the ATP had done something to slow down the game. He was also never such a big fan of the iceberg syndrome some players are able to use to their advantage: show very little emotion, give the opponent nothing to work with. As much as that worked for players like Borg: my father preferred to see fire, passion, visible emotion. Like father, like daughter.

My father has recently passed away and somehow I hope that hes able to watch sports from wherever he is. Now its my little nephew who comes to sit next to me on the sofa in front of the tv when he sees that Im watching a match. Hes a 7-year old boy who cannot talk and who finds it hard to cope in a world full of words. Hes a fun loving child who is passionate about football in the first place (and goalkeepers in particular) but he adores Rafa as well (like aunt, like nephew).

As he finds it hard to communicate with words, my nephew has no problem at all understanding Rafa. He often asks me to put a DVD of one of his matches on for the both of us to enjoy it together. His favourite Rafa moment is the last part of the Rome 2005 final. When watching a match together, the boy looks at every movement of Rafa, annoyed when the camera zooms away to the other player. He jumps up doing the fist-pump when he sees Rafa do it, he gets this huge beaming smile on his little face when Rafa wins a point and whenever Rafa has a lesser moment, my nephew looks at me with a sad face, asking me what is wrong and when he will be able to fist-pump again. When something is not clear to my nephew, he turns to me again, lifts up his eyebrow to ask for an explanation and as my father once did for me, I patiently explain it to him.
Rafael Nadal

All in all, tennis has always been my favourite sport to watch on tv. Football took over in the dark ages of the 90s but one special tennis player going by the name of Rafael Nadal brought me back to my old passion by making the sport fun again for me. From time to time, my little nephew asks me to take him to meet Rafa. When I explain to him that I cant arrange that, he replies by pulling up one eyebrow. I may one day take him to see a match from the stands, though. His grandfather will surely accompany us in spirit.