Rafael Nadal
TENNIS
DEC. 17, 2024
THANK YOU,
TENNIS
PHOTO BY Micah Crook/The Players' Tribune
BY RAFAEL NADAL
PRESENTED BY
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RAFAEL NADAL
Tennis was transforming from something that was just for fun — a child’s game — to a real goal to do for a living.
“
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I was not a kid who really had sports idols.
I suppose it has to do with my Mallorcan character. My heroes were people I knew in real life. But when I was 12 years old, I got to play with Carlos Moyà for the first time. A fellow Spaniard, also from Mallorca. The French Open champion and the first Spanish player to be #1. I was so nervous just to hit some balls with him. It was an unforgettable experience, a window to another world. Tennis was transforming from something that was just for fun — a child’s game — to a real goal to do for a living. It got me dreaming a bit more. One day, maybe I can play at Roland-Garros….
People love to ask about “moments,” but one moment does not change your life. Not in tennis.
In tennis, things are very different. There are more times losing a tournament or not winning it, than winning it. But it’s all about getting better, trying your best, trying hard and persevere. Things can change at one tournament but, the following tournament could be the other way around.
But if I am honest, there have been moments of special emotion. For me, it would be 2005 in Rome.
That Final against Coria is indelible. Not because of how I played, but because of how incredibly exhausted I was before the match. I was dead, physically and mentally. I didn’t think I had anything left to give. Thankfully, I was so young, and everything was so new. Every sensation. Every feeling. When you are 18, you have an extra battery that carries you on. There were moments during the match when I thought I had won it for sure. And moments when I thought I had completely lost it for sure. The emotion of the crowd pushed me forward. When the match started, I didn’t think I could play for an hour. Somehow, we went back and forth for 5 hours and 14 minutes. When it was over, I was a champion.
But pain is one of life’s greatest teachers.
I got hurt when I was 17 and I was told I would probably never play professional tennis again. I learned that things can end in an instant. It’s not just a tiny crack in my foot, it’s a disease. There’s no cure, only management. Mueller-Weiss syndrome. What does that even mean? You go from the greatest joy to waking up the next morning not being able to walk. I spent many days at home crying, but it was a great lesson in humility, and I was lucky to have a father — the real influence I’ve had in my life — who was always so positive. “We will find a solution,” he said. “And if we don’t, there are other things in life outside of tennis.” Hearing those words, I could barely process it, but thank God, after a lot of pain and surgeries and rehabilitation and tears, a solution was found, and for all these years, I was able to fight through it.
Tennis is also a teacher of life itself.
Most of the time, you don’t win the tournament you play. It doesn’t matter who you are, at the end of many weeks, you have lost. Real life is the same. You learn how to live with the moments of joy and the moments of pain, and you try to treat them the same. In the good moments, I never thought I was Superman, and in the bad moments, I never thought I was a failure. What makes you grow as a person is life itself — the failures, the nerves, the heartache, the joy, the process of waking up every day and trying to be a little better to achieve your goals.
Deep down, when all is said and done, one receives what one gives.
I hope that my legacy is that I always tried to treat others with deep respect. This was the golden rule of my parents. When I was a kid, my father would always tell me, “Inventing is hard. Copying is much easier.” He wasn’t talking about tennis. It was about life. Look around you and notice the people you admire. How they treat people. What you love about them. Act like them, and you will probably live a happy life. I carried that lesson with me into every match I ever played. I was not fueled by hatred of my rivals, but a deep respect and admiration. I simply tried to wake up every morning and get a little bit better, so I could keep up with them. It didn’t always work! But I tried…. I always tried.
For more than 30 years, I have given everything I can to this game.
In return, I received joy and happiness. Joy and happiness, love and friendship, and so much more….
Sincerely,
Rafa
THE GIFT
BY RAFAEL NADAL
When I was young, I learned a lesson that still sticks in my mind.
I am not sure exactly how old I was, but I think I was around 12. During that age, I loved to go fishing. I love the sea, because I am from Mallorca, and in my case the sea is part of my life. It’s about the feeling of being by the sea, sitting on the rocks with your family and friends, or out on a boat — the disconnection and peace you feel is something special. One day, I went out fishing when I could have been training. The next day, I lost my match. I remember I was crying in the car on the way back home, and my uncle, who at that young age had a big influence on me, and who was the one who made me fall in love with tennis, he said: “It’s OK, it’s just a tennis match. Don’t cry now, there is no point. If you want to fish, you can fish. No problem. But you will lose. If you want to win? If you want to win, then you have to do what you have to do first.” It was a very important lesson for me. If people see me as a perfectionist, then it comes from that inner voice that was calling to me on the car ride home. The voice has never left me. One day, I can be at the sea. Today, and tomorrow … I have to practice.
For 30 years, the image that I was transmitting to the world was not always what I was feeling inside.
Honestly, I have been nervous before every match I have ever played — it never leaves you. Every night before a match, I went to bed feeling that I could lose (and also when I woke up in the morning!) In tennis, the difference between players is very thin, and between rivals even more. When you go out there on the court, anything can happen, so all your senses must be awake, alive. That feeling, the inner fire and the nerves, the adrenaline of walking out and seeing a full court, it is a sensation that is very difficult to describe. It is a sensation that only a few can understand, and something that I am sure will never be the same now that I am retiring as a professional. There still will be those moments playing exhibitions and maybe other sports, too. I will always compete and try to give the best I can, but it won’t be the same feeling as walking out in front of the fans at any given stadium.
For most of my career, I was good at controlling these emotions. With one exception.
I went through a very difficult moment, mentally, a few years ago. Physical pain I was very used to, but there were times on the court when I had trouble controlling my breathing, and I couldn’t play at the highest level. I don’t have trouble saying it now. After all, we are human beings, not superheroes. The person you see at center court with a trophy is a person. Exhausted, relieved, happy, thankful — but just a person. Thankfully, I didn’t get to the point of not being able to control things like anxiety, but there are moments with every player when it’s difficult to control your mind, and when that happens it’s difficult to have total control of your game. There were months when I thought about taking a complete break from tennis to cleanse my mind. In the end, I worked on it every day to get better. I conquered it by always moving forward, and I slowly became myself again. The thing that I’m most proud of is that I may have struggled, but I never quit. I always gave the maximum.
EN
ES
EN
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PHOTO BY Micah Crook/The Players' Tribune
El Regalo
POR RAFAEL NADAL
Cuando era niño, aprendí una lección que todavía tengo grabada.
No sé exactamente a qué edad fue, pero creo que tenía unos 12 años. A esa edad, me encantaba ir a pescar, me encanta el mar, soy de Mallorca y en mi caso, el mar forma parte de mi vida. Se trata de la sensación de estar al lado del mar, sentado en las rocas con familia y amigos, o en un barco. La desconexión y la paz que sientes es algo especial. Un día fui a pescar, cuando podía haber estado entrenando y al día siguiente; Perdí mi partido. Recuerdo que, de vuelta a casa, estaba llorando en el coche y mi tío, que a esa corta edad tuvo una gran influencia en mí y que fue quien hizo que me enamorase del tenis, me dijo: “Está bien, es solo un partido de tenis. No llores ahora, no tiene sentido. Si quieres pescar, puedes pescar. No hay problema. Pero entonces perderás. ¿Y si quieres ganar? Si quieres ganar, lo primero es lo primero”. Fue una lección muy importante para mí. Si la gente me ve como un perfeccionista, es también por esa llamada interior que sentí aquel día en el coche de regreso a casa. Esa voz nunca me ha abandonado. Un día puedo estar en el mar, pero hoy y mañana; tenía que entrenar.
De niño, realmente no tenía ídolos deportivos.
Supongo que tiene que ver con mi carácter mallorquín. Mis héroes eran personas que conocía en la vida real ya fueran futbolistas compañeros de mi tío Miguel Angel o de algún otro ámbito. Pero cuando tenía 12 años, tuve ocasión de jugar con Carlos Moyà por primera vez. Un compatriota español, también mallorquín, campeón de Roland Garros y el primer jugador español en llegar a ser número uno. Estaba algo nervioso solo por pelotear con él. Fue una experiencia inolvidable, una ventana a otro mundo. Para mí el tenis estaba pasando de ser solo una diversión, un juego de niños, a ser un verdadero objetivo. Me hizo soñar un poco más: Un día, tal vez pueda jugar en Roland-Garros...
Pero el dolor es uno de los mayores maestros de la vida.
Me lesioné cuando tenía 17 años y me dijeron que probablemente nunca volvería a jugar al tenis profesional. Aprendí que todo puede terminar en un instante. No es solo una pequeña fisura en el pie, es una enfermedad, no tiene cura, solo tratamiento. Es el Síndrome de Mueller-Weiss: ¿Qué significa eso?. Pasas de la alegría más grande a despertarte a la mañana siguiente casi sin poder caminar. Pasé muchos días en casa llorando, pero fue una gran lección de humildad y tuve la suerte de tener una familia que siempre han estado y están muy cerca de mi en todo y sobre todo mi padre, la verdadera influencia que he tenido en mi vida, que siempre fue muy positivo: “Encontraremos una solución”, dijo. “Y si no, hay otras cosas en la vida aparte del tenis”. Escuchaba esas palabras y apenas podía procesarlo, pero por fortuna, después de mucho dolor, cirugías, rehabilitación y lágrimas, se encontró una solución, y durante todos estos años fui capaz de resistir.
El tenis es un deporte muy exigente mentalmente, pero hay muchos momentos de alegría que nunca olvidaré.
La Copa Davis en 2004, Roland-Garros en 2005, por supuesto Wimbledon en 2008. También mi primer US Open, o cuando cerré el círculo de los torneos Grand Slam en Melbourne. No olvido torneos como Madrid y Barcelona en mi país, Indian Wells , Miami o Cincinnati, donde llegué por primera vez al puesto número 1 del Ranking ATP. El hermoso y para mi siempre especial torneo de Montecarlo, la sensación de cercanía de Roma, Shanghái y Pekín con esa increíble afición… Canadá, México, Chile, Brasil, mis primeros días en Buenos Aires… ¡Hay tantos! Tengo muchísimos recuerdos increíbles. Sin embargo, nunca puedes dejar de esforzarte. Nunca puedes relajarte. Siempre tienes que mejorar. Esa ha sido la constante de mi vida: Siempre superar los límites y mejorar: Así fue como me convertí en un mejor jugador.
Durante 30 años, la imagen que transmití al mundo no siempre fue lo que sentía por dentro.
Sinceramente, he estado nervioso antes de cada partido, eso nunca te abandona. Todas las noches antes de un partido, me acostaba sintiendo que podía perder (¡también al despertarme por la mañana!). En el tenis, las diferencias entre jugadores son muy ajustadas y entre rivales aún más. Cuando sales a la pista, puede pasar cualquier cosa, por tanto, todos tus sentidos deben estar bien alerta. Esa sensación de fuego interior, los nervios, la adrenalina de salir y ver una pista llena, es una sensación muy difícil de describir. Es una sensación que solo unos pocos pueden entender y estoy seguro de que nunca será lo mismo ahora que me estoy retirando como profesional. Todavía habrá momentos de jugar exhibiciones y tal vez también tiempo para otros deportes. Yo siempre competiré e intentaré dar lo mejor de mí, pero no será la misma sensación que salir frente a los aficionados de cualquier estadio y jugar un partido con la presión enorme de la competición y la responsabilidad deportiva que tienes.
Durante la mayor parte de mi carrera, supe controlar estas emociones. Con una excepción.
Pasé por un momento muy difícil, mentalmente, hace unos años. El dolor físico era algo a lo que estaba muy acostumbrado, pero hubo momentos en la pista en que tenía problemas para controlar la respiración y no podía jugar a mi mejor nivel. No tengo problema en admitirlo ahora. Al fin y al cabo, somos seres humanos, no superhéroes. El jugador que ves en el centro de la pista con un trofeo es una persona; agotada, aliviada, feliz, agradecida, pero solo una persona. Afortunadamente, no llegué al punto de no poder controlar cosas como la ansiedad, pero todos los jugadores pasan por momentos de dificultad para controlar la mente y cuando eso sucede, es difícil tener el control total de tu juego. Hubo meses en los que pensé en tomarme un descanso absoluto del tenis para limpiar mi mente. Al final trabajé en ello cada día para mejorar y lo superé avanzando siempre y poco a poco volví a ser yo mismo. De lo que estoy más orgulloso, a pesar de haber luchado, es de que nunca me rendí, siempre di el máximo.
El tenis es también un maestro de vida.
La mayoría de las veces no ganas el torneo que juegas; no importa quién seas, al final de muchas semanas, has perdido. La vida real es igual. Aprendes a convivir con los momentos de alegría y con los momentos de sufrimiento o dolor e intentas llevarlos de la misma manera. En los buenos momentos nunca me creí Superman y en los malos, nunca pensé que todo era un desastre. Lo que te hace crecer como persona es la vida misma: las derrotas, los nervios, el dolor, la alegría, el proceso de despertar cada día e intentar ser un poco mejor para alcanzar tus metas.
En el fondo, al fin y al cabo, uno recibe lo que da.
Espero que mi legado sea que siempre intenté tratar a los demás con profundo respeto. Esta era la regla de oro de mis padres. De niño, mi padre siempre me decía: “Inventar es difícil. Copiar es mucho más fácil”. No hablaba de tenis, se refería a la vida. Mira a tu alrededor y observa a las personas que admiras, cómo tratan a los demás: Qué te gusta de ellas, compórtate como ellas y seguramente vivas una vida mas feliz. Me llevé esa lección conmigo a todos los partidos que jugué. No me impulsaba el odio hacia mis rivales, sino un profundo respeto y admiración. Simplemente intentaba despertarme cada mañana y mejorar un poco para poder seguirles el ritmo. ¡No siempre funcionaba! Pero lo intentaba... Siempre lo intentaba.
Durante más de 30 años, he dado todo lo que he podido a este deporte.
A cambio, recibí alegría y felicidad. Alegría y felicidad, amor y amistad, y mucho más…
Con afecto,
Rafa
Rafael Nadal
TENNIS
DEC. 17, 2024
PRESENTED BY
RAFAEL NADAL
Para mí el tenis estaba pasando de ser solo una diversión, un juego de niños, a ser un verdadero objetivo.
“
Tennis is a sport that mentally demands very much of you, but there are many moments of joy that I will never forget.
The Davis Cup in 2004, Roland-Garros in 2005, of course Wimbledon in 2008. But then there’s my first US Open, and when I closed the circle of the Grand Slam tournaments in Melbourne. And I don’t forget those tournaments like Madrid and Barcelona in my country, or Indian Wells in Miami, or Cincinnati where I won for the first time in 2013, or the beautiful Monte Carlo, or the special feeling of Rome, or Shanghai and Beijing with those amazing fans … Canada, Mexico, Chile, Brazil, my early days in Buenos Aires … so many. I am filled with incredible memories. However, you can never stop pushing yourself. You can never relax. You always need to improve, and that has been the constant of my life. To always push the limits and improve. That was how I became a better player.
THE GIFT
BY RAFAEL NADAL
PHOTO BY Micah Crook/The Players' Tribune
When I was young, I learned a lesson that still sticks in my mind.
I am not sure exactly how old I was, but I think I was around 12. During that age, I loved to go fishing. I love the sea, because I am from Mallorca, and in my case the sea is part of my life. It’s about the feeling of being by the sea, sitting on the rocks with your family and friends, or out on a boat — the disconnection and peace you feel is something special. One day, I went out fishing when I could have been training. The next day, I lost my match. I remember I was crying in the car on the way back home, and my uncle, who at that young age had a big influence on me, and who was the one who made me fall in love with tennis, he said: “It’s OK, it’s just a tennis match. Don’t cry now, there is no point. If you want to fish, you can fish. No problem. But you will lose. If you want to win? If you want to win, then you have to do what you have to do first.” It was a very important lesson for me. If people see me as a perfectionist, then it comes from that inner voice that was calling to me on the car ride home. The voice has never left me. One day, I can be at the sea. Today, and tomorrow … I have to practice.
I was not a kid who really had sports idols.
I suppose it has to do with my Mallorcan character. My heroes were people I knew in real life. But when I was 12 years old, I got to play with Carlos Moyà for the first time. A fellow Spaniard, also from Mallorca. The French Open champion and the first Spanish player to be #1. I was so nervous just to hit some balls with him. It was an unforgettable experience, a window to another world. Tennis was transforming from something that was just for fun – a child’s game – to a real goal to do for a living. It got me dreaming a bit more. One day, maybe I can play at Roland-Garros….
But pain is one of life’s greatest teachers.
I got hurt when I was 17 and I was told I would probably never play professional tennis again. I learned that things can end in an instant. It’s not just a tiny crack in my foot, it’s a disease. There’s no cure, only management. Mueller-Weiss syndrome. What does that even mean? You go from the greatest joy to waking up the next morning not being able to walk. I spent many days at home crying, but it was a great lesson in humility, and I was lucky to have a father — the real influence I’ve had in my life — who was always so positive. “We will find a solution,” he said. “And if we don’t, there are other things in life outside of tennis.” Hearing those words, I could barely process it, but thank God, after a lot of pain and surgeries and rehabilitation and tears, a solution was found, and for all these years, I was able to fight through it.
Tennis is a sport that mentally demands very much of you, but there are many moments of joy that I will never forget.
The Davis Cup in 2004, Roland-Garros in 2005, of course Wimbledon in 2008. But then there’s my first US Open, and when I closed the circle of the Grand Slam tournaments in Melbourne. And I don’t forget those tournaments like Madrid and Barcelona in my country, or Indian Wells in Miami, or Cincinnati where I won for the first time in 2013, or the beautiful Monte Carlo, or the special feeling of Rome, or Shanghai and Beijing with those amazing fans … Canada, Mexico, Chile, Brazil, my early days in Buenos Aires … so many. I am filled with incredible memories. However, you can never stop pushing yourself. You can never relax. You always need to improve, and that has been the constant of my life. To always push the limits and improve. That was how I became a better player.
For 30 years, the image that I was transmitting to the world was not always what I was feeling inside.
Honestly, I have been nervous before every match I have ever played — it never leaves you. Every night before a match, I went to bed feeling that I could lose (and also when I woke up in the morning!) In tennis, the difference between players is very thin, and between rivals even more. When you go out there on the court, anything can happen, so all your senses must be awake, alive. That feeling, the inner fire and the nerves, the adrenaline of walking out and seeing a full court, it is a sensation that is very difficult to describe. It is a sensation that only a few can understand, and something that I am sure will never be the same now that I am retiring as a professional. There still will be those moments playing exhibitions and maybe other sports, too. I will always compete and try to give the best I can, but it won’t be the same feeling as walking out in front of the fans at any given stadium.
For most of my career, I was good at controlling these emotions. With one exception.
I went through a very difficult moment, mentally, a few years ago. Physical pain I was very used to, but there were times on the court when I had trouble controlling my breathing, and I couldn’t play at the highest level. I don’t have trouble saying it now. After all, we are human beings, not superheroes. The person you see at center court with a trophy is a person. Exhausted, relieved, happy, thankful — but just a person. Thankfully, I didn’t get to the point of not being able to control things like anxiety, but there are moments with every player when it’s difficult to control your mind, and when that happens it’s difficult to have total control of your game. There were months when I thought about taking a complete break from tennis to cleanse my mind. In the end, I worked on it every day to get better. I conquered it by always moving forward, and I slowly became myself again. The thing that I’m most proud of is that I may have struggled, but I never quit. I always gave the maximum.
Tennis is also a teacher of life itself.
Most of the time, you don’t win the tournament you play. It doesn’t matter who you are, at the end of many weeks, you have lost. Real life is the same. You learn how to live with the moments of joy and the moments of pain, and you try to treat them the same. In the good moments, I never thought I was Superman, and in the bad moments, I never thought I was a failure. What makes you grow as a person is life itself — the failures, the nerves, the heartache, the joy, the process of waking up every day and trying to be a little better to achieve your goals.
Deep down, when all is said and done, one receives what one gives.
I hope that my legacy is that I always tried to treat others with deep respect. This was the golden rule of my parents. When I was a kid, my father would always tell me, “Inventing is hard. Copying is much easier.” He wasn’t talking about tennis. It was about life. Look around you and notice the people you admire. How they treat people. What you love about them. Act like them, and you will probably live a happy life. I carried that lesson with me into every match I ever played. I was not fueled by hatred of my rivals, but a deep respect and admiration. I simply tried to wake up every morning and get a little bit better, so I could keep up with them. It didn’t always work! But I tried…. I always tried.
For more than 30 years, I have given everything I can to this game.
In return, I received joy and happiness. Joy and happiness, love and friendship, and so much more….
Sincerely,
Rafa
Rafael Nadal
TENNIS
DEC. 17, 2024
RAFAEL NADAL
Tennis was transforming from something that was just for fun — a child’s game — to a real goal to do for
a living.
“
PRESENTED BY
EN
ES
PHOTO BY AOP.Press/Corbis via Getty Images
PHOTO BY Julian Finney/Getty Images
PHOTO BY Julian Finney/Getty Images
PHOTO BY AOP.Press/Corbis via Getty Images
PHOTO BY AOP.Press/Corbis via Getty Images
PHOTO BY AOP.Press/Corbis via Getty Images
PHOTO BY Julian Finney/Getty Images