Tennis: Nadal's New Spin

BREAK POINT: Nadal wants to project a more mature image and develop interests beyond tennis. "It's only a game," he says. "It's not work. It's hobby work."

Photograph for TIME by Lea Crespi

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This is particularly evident on a hard court, which offers less forgiveness than the softer surfaces of clay and grass, and may explain why Nadal has never managed to make the final of a Grand Slam hard-court event. Ask his trainer, Rafael Maymo, what parts of Nadal's body are under strain when he plays, and he answers: "Shoulder, feet, legs and back. Oh wait, that's every part." Sampras is even more direct: [Nadal] puts so much effort into each point that eventually something will break."

Just as his counter-punching style relies on a fundamental obstinacy, Nadal seems naturally resistant to criticism. In interviews, he consistently deflects questions with rhetorical returns ("But clearly I play better, no?" "I've won on grass before, no?"). At the BNP Paribas Masters in November, he insisted that what really needed changing was the length of the professional tennis season, not his game. (Two days later, tendinitis in his knee forced him to withdraw from the event.) "The Tour is very tough because the season is too long in my opinion," he told TIME as he melted four squares of butter into a steaming heap of plain pasta. (A portion of salmon waited to one side). "Next year is going to be very difficult for me because I have had such a tough season already."

But while Nadal gripes about too many matches, Toni has been reworking his nephew's game to make it less physically demanding. In recent months, the pair have focused on increasing the velocity of Nadal's serve in the hope of earning more aces, and improving Nadal's net play in the hope of shortening rallies. More drastically, they have begun altering Nadal's trademark forehand. In Paris, I spent two hours watching Nadal practice forehands with a follow-through that came around his body in the traditional manner rather than whiplashing behind his head. Toni barked complaints if his pupil unconsciously reverted to his old follow-through. At one point, unhappy with the results, Toni pointed at a promotional picture of Federer on the JumboTron above the court, a post-forehand action shot of the Swiss player with the caption hit that back if you can! See, like that!, Toni seemed to be indicating. "Federer is a wonderful player," Toni says later, before making a gesture with his hand in imitation of a painter's strokes. "He plays with [this]," he says, hand brushing up and down. "His spirit is so easy."

Is his coach encouraging Nadal to mimic Federer? "No, Federer is too good," says Toni. "Rafael must play like himself but better, [less spin], quicker points." But how can Federer be too good when Rafael is ranked No. 1? "There is a difference between who is better and who knows more," says Toni. "Better now is Rafael, he is No. 1 in the ranking. But who has the best game? Federer."

Playing the Game
Spend a few days with Nadal and it becomes clear that the changes he is making to his game are part of a wider makeover that he and his handlers have planned for 2009. At the center of these changes is the desire to project a more mature image. Whether that comes from Nadal himself is tough to say. Tennis stars can remain children long into their careers. Many players turn pro in their mid-teens. In the player's lounge at the Paris Masters, top pros in their late teens or early twenties lay around on faux-zebra-skin couches while their managers hustled the phones. The most popular section of the players' restaurant was a wall filled with jars of candy and licorice, and back at the hotel players spent a good portion of their time playing video games together. Even in this setting, there has always been something particularly childlike about Nadal's public persona, from his obsessive prematch routine of arranging his water bottles just so, to his compulsive butt-scratching between points, to his habit of posing for championship photographs while biting onto trophies like a teething tot.

Nadal's manager, Carlos Costa of the management company IMG, says the young champ is ready to grow up. The role model, again, is Federer, who has positioned himself as an elder statesman of the tour and whose exquisite touch on the court and advertiser-friendly image as a trilingual Swiss gentleman brought in an estimated $35 million in prize money and endorsements in 2008. (Nadal's camp won't discuss finances, but tennis writers estimate Nadal's earnings fall considerably short of that.) "When you see Nadal and Federer it's a different type of person," says Costa. [Federer] is more adult, [Nadal] seems more like a kid." If Nadal's earnings are to grow, that will have to change. Nadal's sponsors target "young people," says Costa. "But he needs to be the kind of guy that brands can think of as an ambassador. Someday he's going to be a man, more than a kid."

That day may be some way off. As part of the campaign to rebrand Nadal, Nike announced last summer that the player would wear a new line of attire at the U.S. Open. Nadal normally wears knee-length shorts and a sleeveless shirt — a trademark pirate costume loved by fans, which looks ridiculous on anything other than Nadal's muscled body. Nike said the new line would be "more mature" and appeal to an older tennis-playing public. But only days before the tournament began, the clothes were withdrawn because Nadal said he felt uncomfortable.

Could changing tennis's most unique and effective specimen backfire? Nadal will never lose certain aspects of what makes him so effective: his pugilist spirit, and the ability to impose his muscular game on more talented players. But so much of his success stems from his resistance to tradition that Toni's plan to make his charge more orthodox may dim Nadal's aura among fellow pros. When I asked the American player Andy Roddick about the changes, he couldn't believe that Nadal would voluntarily reduce the spin on his forehand. "One of the things that is difficult about facing [Nadal] is the extreme topspin he gets on the ball," Roddick told TIME. "If it's true, I don't think it would make him more effective."

And while sponsors may want Nadal to become a man, he needs to be his own man. Fans love Nadal because he seems so real. Even his most deliberate calculations — to pick up the racquet in his left hand and hit the ball in a way nobody has before — seem to stem from a subversive instinct. For tennis's antihero, on the court at least, normal might be a step too far.

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