and former players. He’s a beast
(Federer). He’s money under pres-
sure (Jim Courier). He’s a stone-
cold killer (Bob Bryan). Nadal’s
level of fixed determination dur-
ing matches is jarring, even to his
own coach, Carlos Moyá, a former
No. 1 player. “If I had 50% of his
intensity,” says Moyá, “probably
things would have been better
for me.”
Finally, there is some data on
Nadal to back up what is obvi-
ous to the naked eye. The ATP has
crafted an “under pressure” stat.
In that category Nadal is No. 1.,
and it’s not even close. He con-
verts more break points—almost
45%—than any peer. When he
faces break points, Nadal staves
them off more than two-thirds
of the time. He wins more than
two-thirds of his tiebreakers and three-fourths of his
decisive sets.
Nadal is, by his own admission, a creature of habit. He
has what he calls his “rituals,” down to making sure his
water bottles at the side of his chair are aligned just so.
His practice sessions are famously intense, often lasting
two hours, even in the middle of a tournament. They are
also exercises in consistency. Says former Federer coach
Paul Annacone, now a Tennis Channel commentator,
“If you had watched [Nadal] practice as a teenager and
watched him today, you’d see a lot of similarities.”
Nadal has, essentially, kept the same team for his
entire career. That includes his physio, Rafael Maymo,
a native of Manacor whom Nadal hired in 2006, when
Nadal was 20 and Maymo was 26. Given the bodily wear
and tear Nadal was absorbing, there were whispers he
should hire a more experienced and credentialed physi-
cal trainer. Nadal wouldn’t hear of it, explaining that
there was no replacing the trust he had in Maymo. With
Nadal still winning majors closer to age 40 than 30, the
results speak for themselves.
Yet Nadal doesn’t get sufficient recognition for his
willingness to make small changes. Like a technician
going down to the basement and tinkering, he has added
dimensions to his game. A f licking backhand volley here,
a twist to his serve there. Nadal paired with Spanish
player Marc López to win the gold medal in doubles at
the Rio Olympics in 2016. When Lopez retired last year,
Nadal invited him onto his team.In his ever-improving English, he sounds like a busi-
ness leader (which he effectively is) when he sizes up
the operation. “You want to have [faith] in what you are
doing and know the history,” he says. “But you also want
to be open to change and new ideas and new people.”
This recent blast of success often has Nadal looking
backward. Asked recently for the origin story of his on-
court aura, he paused to ref lect and offered this, typical
of both the depth and length of public statements lately:
“The reason I have the right self-control or I have the
right attitude or fighting spirit during my whole career
is simple, because I grow with this kind of education.
My uncle, my family, never allowed me to break a racket,
never allowed me to say bad words or give up a match.
They didn’t care much about winning or losing, but
the most important thing was the education, and that
I grow with the right values.”
Nadal is also looking to the future, and not neces-
sarily his. He has been cautious not to gush too much,
which would only stoke the hype, but Nadal is thrilled
by the ascent of Carlos Alcaraz, a Spaniard who just
turned 19 and is the brightest prospect in men’s ten-
nis since...19-year-old Spaniard Rafael Nadal broke
out in the spring of 2005. Alcaraz, says Nadal, “has
all the ingredients to become a major champion, no?”
That Nadal so clearly inf luenced Alcaraz—from his
modest disposition, to his commitment to breaking
the Spaniard-as-clay-courter stereotype—is a special
70 source of pride.
RE
GINA (^) C
OR
TIN
A/
QU
AL
ITY
(^) SP
OR
T (^) I
MA
GE
S/G
ET
TY
IM
AG
ES
“MY FAMILY NEVER ALLOWED ME TO BREAK A
RACKET.... THE MOST IMPORTANT THING WAS THAT
I GROW [UP] WITH THE
RIGHT VALUES.”
COMEBACK KING
Nadal’s renowned
determination has allowed
him to stay competitive even as
injuries have stacked up.