Ova novinarka je napisala svoj dojam o Rafi nakon što ga je srela
Tennis at every age
To find yourself on a court facing Rafael Nadal, the best tennis player in the world ? Not even a shiver ! You see, Dr Aga (the name she uses for her writings on Elle magazine) knows a thing or two about tanned, muscled young men and she discovered a couple of secrets about the great champion!
The French tennis federation confirms that you can start hitting that yellow ball at any age. Fine, I say, but not against just anybody. So, imagine my joy when I find out that Rafael Nadal, ATP n°1, muse of the new fragrance of Lanvin L’Homme Sport, is willing to face normal journalists - that is to say; not sports journalists (the colleagues from L’Equipe will appreciate this).
Time to nag the press agent into letting me have access to a particular court, annoy the Lacoste company into sending me an outfit, bothering my daughter into lending me her racket and off I go, in the Thalys heading for the Rotterdam tournament with a “An Introduction to Tennis” DVD in my computer.
Rafa is Féfé
Rafael Nadal has entered the training court, his racket bag loosely hanging on his shoulder. The only player to have won 81 consecutive matches on clay. He has the reputation of being a machine out to crush his opponents. I look at him, amazed: so this is it? The killer who never lets go, the champion with blood on his bandana? This young man with the very innocent smile? I know that athletes always look more slender in real life but standing in front of his 1m85 of sheer muscles, only one thought enters my mind: Rafa is Féfé.
Rafa - as his millions of fans call him - and Féfé – as his friends call my son Félix, almost 18 years old (I know what you’re going to think: “Not possible. Dr. Aga is too young to have a child of that age! You see, I had my share of dramas. Like others, I also experienced the shock of getting pregnant at an early age from a man much older than I was, a man who had the sheer nerve of making sure that I had two other children, forcing me to raise them together…but I digress. You can read about it under the title “My story”, about 65 pages long.)
Typical Teen
So, my friends, Rafa is Féfé or in other words; a typical teen. At the age of 22, all the signs are there: his shyness forces him to look away directly followed by a couple of unexpected kisses. Incomprehensible electrocution: like my son, Nadal makes sounds more than he uses words. Like my son, when you least expect it, he has a stupid, yet contagious laughter. Really, I don’t see what’s to laugh at the way I hold my racket. For heaven’s sake; so what if I want to hold it like you do in ping pong?
That striking grace
Like Féfé, Rafa still lives with his mum and he doesn’t talk about his girlfriend (a certain María Fransesca). Like Féfé, Rafa wears clothes that reveal his muscles and I’m going to get killed for that because Felix hates it when I comment about his muscles and whats more: on that day, Nadal is really elegant with sleeves. See for yourself in the picture. Well, usually, those two boys are not really fashion victims, it has to be said.
Like Féfé, Nadal high fives his friends about every six seconds.
To conclude : like my son, Rafael has the striking grace of youth with a spontaneous elegance, unaware of his beauty although it’s very obvious at the same time.
A seductive boy
I say to myself that it’s a pity that you only see Nadal during his matches when he’s very concentrated with a closed look on his face because when you see him off court, with the smile of an archangel…my god, what a seductive boy he is! I become aware of the fact that I’m not the only one looking at him with mouth wide open. Ten, twenty, perhaps thirty people have come to watch along the court. The word “Nadal is on 8” quickly spreads among the public. “They’ve recognized me, they’re here for me”, I say ironically and Rafael politely laughs. Later, when it’s no longer thirty but two hundred and fifty people who are eager to witness me sending balls into the net, my giggling fades quite a bit. Just how do those top athletes stay focused with all those eyes locked on them?
Shy, like others
Earlier, a female colleague of mine interviewed Nadal and afterwards, she told me: “it’s odd how he doesn’t look you in the eyes”. I understand it. He doesn’t look to avoid the gaze of all those eyes zoomed into him. Rafael Nadal is a young man like many others. By this, I mean that he’s shy like others.
First exchange and Rafael tells me that we’re going to work on my forehand. With a bit of luck, it passes. It goes well above the net even though it doesn’t exactly land where I imagined it would go. Nadal moves to catch my ball, seemingly in slow motion whereas I need to run like a rabbit on my little back paws. He sends back a soft ball to me, straight to my racket and he says: “muy bien, Alice”. This is when Rafa is no longer like Féfé because my son, when we play ping pong, finds sheer joy in sending me scud missiles accompanied by aggressive grunts.
Just before this, he lost a doubles match with his Spanish friend. I ask him if he was referring to that earlier. He shakes his head: “Oh no, doubles is of no importance. In fact, we knew that we were going to lose.” He explains to me that his friend is not really tournament level but they let him pick a partner himself so Nadal chose him because it’s gives his friend the opportunity to earn a nice amount of money. Like Féfé, Rafa has elaborate plans with his friends to make money, like baby-sitting or trading mathematics notes….
He smells really good
We move on to working on my backhand. With the advice of his uncle and coach Toni Nadal. Rafa is now ambidextrous but he learned to play like a lefty from the age of 4 whereas he’s a natural right hander. After a couple of tentative backhands, which I personally find remarkable, Rafa grimaces and advices me to use two hands after which he calmly say: “It’s worse, go back to one hand” without malice. I manage to return a couple of balls but not a lot and it annoys me all the more because his shots really look like he’s playing with a 5-year old. I make him understand that his soft balls are driving me crazy. I can manage a good smash in ping pong, for heaven's sake, so he needs to really go for it.
Nadal gives me a huge grin, looks me straight in the eyes and then, he shoots off a missile that flies far behind me and hits the white line with a flat noise. I think that it was a ball because I didn’t have time to look.
I think that it’s time to fulfill my true mission: whatever it takes, I'm to check out if the fragrance he represents - Lanvin L’Homme Sport - really smells good. Without warning, I move to the other side of the net and I throw myself into the neck of the champion to smell him. Like my son, he instinctively moves back when I suddenly invade his personal space. Like my son, he explains to me that he didn’t have time to shower yet. Like my son, in fact, he smells really good. Lavender, that’s certain, and something else. Sage perhaps?
Rafael Nadal and his complexes
We’re now standing on the same side opposing a murmuring crowd. Rafael has undertaken the mission to show me the serving technique with his huge body close behind mine. He lifts his arm and takes mine along with it in the same movement until he stands on the tip of his shoes, totally stretching out, still glued to my back. I try to feel nothing but maternal emotions but without much success. I tell him: “Oh, this looks really difficult as a shot, the serve”. He jokingly replies: “Yes, it’s the worst. It poses me problems as well ». You see, even though he’s the world number one, Rafael Nadal has his share of complexes. Not only about his serve but about his entire game on surfaces he hates. The surface in Rotterdam is synthetic “and it’s not a given that I will go far in this tournament because it’s not my thing” he adds with a pout that’s quite similar to the pout of the best student of the class who returns from a physics test saying: “I failed half of the questions” while everybody knows that he will succeed with a huge margin.
No time to chat
We barely have time to chat, only to ask him about his tennis idols. The names I mention make him smile politely: “Borg, McEnroe, Lendl…I’ve heard people talk about them but I’ve never seen them play.” This makes me realize that Nadal was born three years after Noah’s victory in Roland Garros and I take a big sip from my coffee but the shy young man immediately murmurs: “For me, the best of them all is Roger Federer”. I think about this display of fair play: Federer, former n°1, Nadal’s historic opponent. Then, I remember that Rafa has beaten the Swiss on a regular basis for almost a year now. Symbolically, what he’s telling me implies that he’s better than the “best of them all”. Clearly, Rafael Nadal has a bit of an ego of his own and with good reason because he’s an exceptional young man. Just like my son.
http://www.elle.fr/elle/societe/les-enquetes/a-nous-deux-nadal/le-tennis-a-n-importe-quel-age/(gid)
Opisala ga je baš onakvog kako meni djeluje

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