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by Pete Bodo*
There is undoubtedly a real Rafael Nadal, lurking somewhere north of the sloe-eyed, wholesome, and humble young man whom women of a certain age (between, say, 12 and 98?) would love to hug to their bosoms—but south of the disingenuous, scheming, muscular ball-punisher recently given to whining about the state of the ATP and his knees, or some other injury de jour.
Finding that real Rafa is a job for him, and not for you or I. All we can do is wait.
That Nadal has become a somewhat polarizing figure can be put down to some extent to the number of people who accord Roger Federer the kind of devotion usually reserved for someone with a three-letter name beginning with "G." But lately the line in the sand has been cut deeper, and drawn more conspicously, thanks to Nadal's recent comments about Federer, and about the state of the ATP tour.
Some people share Nadal's feeling that Federer is somehow being too diplomatic and insufficiently outspoken about said problems. But the way Nadal has registered his own complaints (without articulating them precisely) and made (actually, failed to make) his points may be a far more damaging action than Federer's discreet silence. And worst of all for Nadal, his behavior suggests that he's angry, hurt, and—above all—confused. His criticisms have sounded all too personal.
The narrative Nadal has been promoting is that tennis has an overcrowded calendar and that the scheduling of Davis Cup matches is onerous. Nadal claims to speak for, if not exactly on behalf of, a "supermajority" of players. This simply cannot be true. As Nadal himself would say, the truth is that the top players are bridling against the number of mandatory tournaments they must play (which is very, very different from saying there are too many tournaments), and they want to make a lot more money from the tournaments they do play (in that, Nadal may indeed have that supermajority).
To wit: Discussing the level of discontent in the ATP these days, Andy Roddick yesterday told the press: "I'm not saying drop tournaments off the schedule. . .By no means am I saying get rid of events. I don't care if everyone else plays a million tournaments. I feel like I've played long enough and I know myself well enough to know what I need to play."
I appreciate that English is not Nadal's first language, and perhaps he articulated thoughts similar to those of Roddick to his Spanish camp followers. All I know is that Nadal's complaints have come across as vague and obtuse, thereby leaving many with the feeling that the real problem isn't the calendar, or Davis Cup. The real problem is Rafa, and how put out and put upon he feels. Who would have thought, as little as a year ago, that Nadal would become a poster boy for disgruntlement?
Nadal has a reputation for being humble and honest, and if you read between the lines these days I suppose you can argue that Nadal is at least being transparent. He's flailing around, unable to disguise his discontent. (We can infer that in the same position, Federer would be much better able to hide his disenchantment—as if that were a human failing.) But being such an open book doesn't do a player much good, not when he's carrying a target as big as the one Rafa has on his back.
Most people like Rafa the way he is and would rather he stay "himself." But that himself these days looks increasingly vulnerable, sensitive (of course)—but also something he never seemed before. He looks a little weak. For his own good, Nadal should suck it up, express his beefs in a clear, precise way, avoid sweeping generalizations or suggestions that he speaks for some silent majority, and leave his injuries out of it. It might seem too Federer-esque to attempt to control the message, but that's just what Nadal needs to do.