There is no need to be a genius or a prodigy of intuition, nor even part of his closest circle, to realise that Rafael Nadal is fundamentally a scaredy-cat. Just having paid attention to some things he said, still says, did, still does. That and, of course, having read RAFA. My Story, the book he co-wrote with John Carlin more than thirteen years ago, revealing in this regard and in every sense. A lot of time has passed, true, and today Rafa probably no longer needs to sleep with a light on or the TV on…
In many and varied ways it has been written or said that “he who is not afraid is not brave…”. We now stick with the quote attributed to Nelson Mandela: “The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” Rafa has done nothing but strive almost daily to conquer his fears, besiege them, tame them, subdue them as much as possible. That is why Nadal, the scaredy-cat, is also fundamentally a BRAVE man in capital letters.
Surely many of Rafa’s rivals felt intimidated by his warrior routines before the duel on the court, but there is a reasonable suspicion: perhaps the primary purpose of such rituals was not so much to intimidate as to conquer his own fears.
The paradox has been fascinating throughout all these years: watching him play you could feel his fears, almost touch them (those hundreds of thousands of timid first serves?), and then let yourself be carried away, joyfully, by the torrent of immense power. All compressed, even in a single point. In a single game. Not to mention in a single set, in a single match.
In for a penny, in for a pound. As many times as needed. Thank you very much, Rafa, for repeatedly going against your ‘nature’ and going, in for a penny, in for a pound. What a constant lesson. What a joy. What a joy. What a joy.
