Rafael Nadal's Battle of Wounded Knee: A Drama Viewed from the Tramlines

Rafael Nadal must wonder what he has done to Switzerland to deserve the battering he's received at their sons’ hands in the last month.

First Roger Federer claimed the Madrid Master’s title from the Spanish hero on his home ground.

Then he claimed Nadal’s French crown.

Finally, at a little—formerly unnoticed—tennis event just up the road from the hallowed turf of Wimbledon itself, Stanislav Wawrinka rubbed salt into the wound that had been sliced, like a papercut, by Lleyton Hewitt just a day earlier.

To the throng of media and the select Hurlingham audience gathered around this exquisite patch of grass in the refined suburbs of Putney, his performance could mean only one thing. Nadal would have to withdraw from Wimbledon.

When the media room heard, 15 minutes after his defeat by the Swiss, that Nadal was holding his press conference more than two hours later at Wimbledon itself, it as good as confirmed that the decision was taken.

Sure enough, at just after seven in the evening, the announcement was made: Nadal was not 100 percent fit and had decided to withdraw from the most prestigious tournament of the year.

He went on to say it was one of the most painful decisions of his career. “It’s tough, but it is what it is."

In truth, none of this came as a surprise. Even if the tennis world had suspended belief in the aftermath of Uncle Toni’s press statements the night before, the reality was writ large in Nadal’s match against Wawrinka.

He had looked discontented almost from the outset, despite sunshine, a perfect playing surface, and a hushed environment redolent of the practice court.

His usual fleetness of foot and never-say-die retrieval were clearly absent. But there were problems with several parts of his shot-making, too.

The dip into his service action was more shallow than usual—a sure sign that he was attempting to protect his knees from too strong an upward thrust.

Then there was the frequent use of shots relatively unfamiliar in the Nadal armory.

On the forehand side, he several times played a one-handed, undercut squash shot from one deep corner of the court to the further diagonal. The twist required for this shot comes more from the torso, shoulders, and arms than the standard double-hander, and so imposes less twist on the knees.

On the other wing, he frequently employed the sliced backhand. Of course, this is a mainstay of the grass court game and is confirmation that Nadal is still working hard to develop his all-round skills. But it is also less punishing on the legs than the full-blooded double-handed top spin or drive.

The real giveaway in this event—and it was employed very effectively against Wawrinka—was the serve-volley and the return-and-volley strategy.

Two things could be read into this. Nadal was determined to avoid the long baseline rallies that his opponent would quite happily have played. He has also learnt that this style of play will reduce the pounding on his over-worked knees, shorten matches, and give his other talents a chance to shine. It was certainly a point-winning play against the Swiss.

What Nadal was unable to do was retrieve low balls, change direction with his usual ease and, of course, serve the number of outright winners that Wawrinka did. By the end of the match he had all but given up chasing any balls at all.

So the well-heeled pundits who had shelled out upwards of £400 a head for their lavish lunch, champagne, and high tea got a lot more than they expected: history in the making.

Nadal is only the fourth man in the modern era not to defend his Wimbledon title. More worryingly, he’s only the second to pull out due to injury, and at a full eight years younger than the other, Goran Ivanisevic, who withdrew in 2002 with a shoulder injury.

Which raises an important question for the man who has been the soaring eagle of the men’s game for more than year. Where to now for Nadal? Have the eagle’s wings been clipped?

He revealed in his press conference that he had been playing with pain for some months, and that he didn't know how long he would now be out of the game. With his usual positive outlook, he also said he expected to fully recover and have a long career.

Does this mean he will opt for surgery or, at the very least, an extended layoff?

There’s no question that his tendinitis has become a chronic condition, and the rehabilitation of the last couple of weeks has not solved the problem.

What is more, the breaks he took from last year’s Davis Cup final and the Masters Cup in Shanghai seemed merely to put off the decision. One wonders how much longer he will want to see the latter tournaments of the annual cycle fade from his grasp as his body becomes more battered.

Drastic treatment would take him out of the game for months and he would most likely see his hard-won No.1 ranking slip. With usual Rafa pragmatism, he responded to that particular question with “I’m going to accept it like the four years I was No.2 and work hard to improve.”

But in the long term, drastic action now would give him the time and enthusiasm to rebuild his game, his fitness and his endurance. He has already developed the tools to play a different, more all-round game—a real positive to take away from a sad day.

He could come back a more complete player.

So the slowly-evolving Rafa drama has turned, in the blink of an eye, into the kind of cliff-hanger normally associated with soap operas.

This gifted, magnificent Spaniard has been as responsible for the revitalisation of tennis as his polar opposite, Roger Federer. The game can manage without him for a while, just as long as he returns with his old vigor, and with the charming smile that graced his face today, even in one of his darkest hours.