4,500 rpm on the forehand. Borg’s topspin revolution doubled, squared. All that topspin means net clearance, safety, angles. The perfect weapon for clay, its wars of attrition. Not far from the arena of Roland Garros lay the caves of Lascaux. In the womb of their history lay hundreds of familiar, mysterious beasts. Rafa’s afraid of animals, the dark. He sleeps with his lights on at night. Before each match he seeks rituals: chants, mind games, order, control. A cold shower focuses the mind. He wraps six racquets, watches like a boxer as his hands are taped. He stares at the walls, remembers, rehearses. The words of his Uncle Toni: Go without, do more. Endure. Get every ball back. Endure. Do not be afraid to take risks. He sprints back and forth. Vamos, vamos. Let’s go, Let’s go. The plural we is important; his entire family, his team, is involved. He ties on his bandanna, jumps up and down. Anything to deliver the mind from fear. Fear of winning, fear of losing, fear of injury: childhood’s broken bone in the foot, the patella, the tendons, of this knee, that knee. Play with pain, conquer fear. Spill your guts every point. Sweat. Take your time between points. The drip, drip of sweat.
Artist Bio: The artwork of Rafael Nadal is by the digital artist, Sam Brannan, from St. Petersburg, Russia. Sam’s beautiful digital artwork on tennis players can be seen on Instagram.
For free posts every Thursday in your email featuring original art from around the world and creative new perspectives and prose, follow Tennis Players as Works of Art below:
Rafael Nadal and the Lascaux Cave Paintings was first published in Cagibi. It was also first published with Tennis Players as Works of Art in October, 2020.
Happy to announce that this blog has been named one of Feedspot’s top tennis blogs, websites & influencers of 2024.
4 replies on “Rafael Nadal and the Lascaux Cave Paintings”
David, great write up! Really, I felt the tension, excitement that went with the digital art! Intense! Bravo!
Glorious!
Gwen.
Marvelous!
I enjoy how you write, in this case describing obsession with urgency and elegance. Your remark about “Vamos” being plural made me think how its English equivalent “Let’s go” is also plural, though we often say it to our singular selves. I may be heard to mutter, ‘Let’s go, Jim!” when I sense I’m underperforming. I can’t think of a singular form with which to urge oneself forward. “Let me go” just doesn’t work.