Purple Tennis Royalty

Using the right hand, touch the nose. Run the fingers over the right ear. Touch the nose again. Run the fingers over the left ear. Quick tugs to the left and right sleeve. Finally, adjust the shorts with another quick tug. Then pick up and serve the ball that has been bouncing under the racquet held in the left hand. This is Rafael Nadal’s famous pre-serve ritual. Variations of which I have had the pleasure of watching since the early 2000’s.

 

The glorious Wimbledon finals in 2006, 2007 and 2008 that featured Nadal were such treats. I would abandon everything else on those Sundays waiting for the match. My brother and I would plant ourselves on the sofa in front of the TV, and act like the chair umpire shushing and saying “Please” when any stray sound was made at home. My brother was the biggest Nadal fan and would burst into tears when Federer, who I was supporting, won. Nadal and my brother enjoyed sweet revenge in 2008, when they finally won.

 

In school too the rivalry between Federer and Nadal divided the class. In one of those epic finals, while Nadal with his long hair and long shorts was reaching for the ball, his racquet escaped his hand and almost hit a cameraman. Talking about this “unacceptable behaviour” in class the next day, my classmate Sourav who was incensed by it said “Nadal should be fined!” while we all agreed.

 

With Federer there was a certain ease with which he played, it drew me to his game and made me a fan. But Nadal’s game, I always found, was laboured. He had to fight for every point, every game. During the tough moments in life though, I found myself thinking about Nadal and his fighting spirit. The self-belief that he showed and that it is not natural talent but hours and hours of hard work that finally pays off.

 

 

 

After all these years later, at 35, here he was at the finals of the Australian Open again. With our LED TV not working, my brother and I planted ourselves in front of our trusty old CRT TV just like the old days. The only difference this time was that both of us were rooting for Nadal. But after he had lost the first two sets I had to resort to some of my superstitious moves. I stood up, locked my fingers behind my back and said under my breath, “Come-on Rafa” exactly two times. Every time I got excited and said it more than twice, Nadal seemed to lose a point.

 

The other finalist, Daniil Medvedev put up such a good fight, smashing winners and playing brilliant dropped balls that made the match really gripping. It made me briefly forget the month I had. All the pain, the tiredness and all the pending work, faded away while watching them play. All I wanted was for Nadal to win the next point and then the next point.

 

Finally, after five sets in as many hours, Nadal emerged victorious. He sank to the ground and laughed, unable to believe what had just happened and we at home mirrored his emotions, unable to believe that he had done it. He had overtaken Roger Federer’s 20 Grand Slams and become the first man to win 21 Grand Slams.

 

Who knows maybe in May when he plays in the French Open he can make it 22, one less than Serena Williams’ Grand Slam tally. But one thing I know for certain is that in May I will be quietly saying under my breath, “Come-on Rafa… Come-on Rafa…”