Right then. It's ten years ago, Basel, and Roger has just won his first round match. I go into the locker-room, and hear what I can only describe as a kind of amateur opera-singing. Now this is seriously loud-singing, like a tenor giving it everything. Semi in-tune.
Why was he doing that? Because, like Rafa, he was absolutely buzzing with life and the thrill of victory. The more people laughed the louder the louder he sang. As his coach at the time told me, "He has so much excess energy, you have to let him scream sometimes."
It's made news that Nadal (a day after winning RG) hit the practice courts in Queens after doing a photoshoot at EuroDisney and taking the train from France to England. Even though it was raining, the boy couldn't wait to hit the courts.
Ok, so Rafa is in the locker-room. Rain-break. Everyone sitting around watching Wimbledon re-runs. Suddenly the tv shows the rain's stopped. Rafa sees this, jumps up, starts charging around the locker-room getting his stuff together, rounding up his team. Wants to practise. Now!
I just find such boysish (sic?) enthusiasm from a guy who has just won the French Open a fifth time utterly endearing.
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