After losing what is likely to be his final professional match, Rafael Nadal said that he probably does not deserve to be selected again, even if Spain should come through their Davis Cup tie against Netherlands.
Nadal went out in characteristically gladiatorial style, straining every sinew to keep pace with the Dutch No 2 Botic van de Zandschulp. Unfortunately, those sinews are considerably less taut than they used to be, and Van de Zandschulp brought down the guillotine with a 6-4, 6-4 victory that will probably draw a line under Nadal’s 20-year career.
I say probably, because at the time of writing, Spain had not yet been eliminated from the Davis Cup finals week in Malaga. But when it came to the interview room, a crestfallen Nadal did not sound especially impressed with his own performance.
“Have been a lot of conversations during the week,” said Nadal, in relation to his selection ahead of Spain’s alternative second singles player, world No 46 Roberto Bautista Agut. “I practised quite well. David [Ferrer, the Spanish captain] was confident that I was the player to play.
“I tried to help the team to put a win out there, but was not possible. Just didn’t work. Probably the easy move and maybe the right move is to change. If I would be the captain, probably I will change. If we go through, that’s my feeling. But at the end, is not my decision, and I’m sure that he will make the best decision possible for the team.”
When asked in Spanish if he would actively prefer not to play, Nadal clarified: “That’s not what I said. I would play every match if I could.”
At 38, Nadal still has the capacity to hit the occasional blinder. Take, for instance, the leaping backhand overhead he made early in the second set (watch below), which nearly blew the roof off the stadium. On a point-to-point basis, though, he is heavy-legged around the court and often looks like he is playing uphill.
The match was enjoyable as an occasion, offering plenty of fan excitement and one last glimpse of Nadal’s famous quirks: the pant-tugging, the line-walking and the water bottle-fiddling.
But while Nadal had declared himself fit and ready, there was evidence from early on that he did not back himself to play long rallies. He was making extensive use of serve-volley tactics, which would have been wholly alien to the young clay-courter who burst into our consciousness all those years ago by defeating Andy Roddick in an early Davis Cup clash.
In those days, Nadal could neither serve nor volley with any great penetration, relying almost entirely on his world-beating forehand. The fact that he would sharpen up those facets of his game so methodically offers a glimpse of his extraordinary work ethic. Nevertheless, this is still not his preferred style of play, and his reliance on it betrayed his own inner doubts.
The emotions of the occasion were clearly a factor for Nadal. We could see them written on his face some 20 minutes before the first ball was hit, as the Spanish team walked up the tunnel and out into the arena.
The other members of the team included Carlos Alcaraz, the world No 3 and arguably the most thrilling young player to emerge in a generation. They might as well not have been there. The roars filled this hall, which seats 11,500 lucky fans, with an almost physical intensity, but they were reserved for one man only. Well, one man and his oversized white bandanna, which seemed to glow with a saintly light.
As the anthems played, Nadal already looked suspiciously moist around the eyes, and then his bottom lip began to wobble as well. We rarely see him show anything less than complete focus, for he is the king of game-face. But here, making his last stand, he showed a more vulnerable side.
His game, too, was vulnerable to the cold-eyed, cold-blooded Van de Zandschulp – a quirky player who considered retirement during the summer, so poor was his form, yet regrouped effectively enough to shock Alcaraz at September’s US Open.
The only question related to Botic’s bottle: did he have enough to see Nadal off the premises? He gave the answer in no uncertain terms, fizzing a low and scudding forehand up the line to complete his win. Van de Zandschulp always comes across like a man with a low heartbeat, which must be useful when you are playing in front of a partisan mob who cheer every time you miss a serve. Not to mention the King of Spain, as well.
The defeat puts a rare stain on Nadal’s Davis Cup record, which now stands at 29 singles wins and only two losses (of which the previous came against Jiri Novak in his very first tie). But nothing will stain the extraordinary legend and legacy he leaves behind.
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