RAFAEL NADAL
The sun’s heat is penetrating ,
leaving no shadow at all on the court.
There is no place to hide,
no place for relief.
That is how I must play,
with the intensity of the sun.
Showing no mercy,
showing no forgiveness.
The ball feels good in my hand,
yellow felt, new and unused.
full of bounce,
full of recoil.
That is how I must play,
fresh and dynamic.
full of energy,
full of drive.
I clutch my racquet,
designed and intended for only me.
My strings loose, not tight,
my grip exact, precisely measured.
That is how I must play,
my game on my terms,
loosely using my power,
precisely hitting the lines.
The crowd roars my name,
as if I am a warrior entering battle.
Chanting for me,
willing me to win.
That is how I must play,
a soldier at war,
until I hear the words,
“Game, Set, Match.”
