The Warrior: Rafael Nadal and his Kingdom of Clay review: A tennis legend’s secrets

Nadal has won 14 titles on clay out of the 22 Grand Slams he has claimed. He also lost in eight other Slam finals. Had he won those, tennis might have had only one undisputed great. Instead, we have three: Roger Federer (20 Slam titles), Novak Djokovic (24 and counting), and Nadal himself — legends who have elevated tennis into a truly global sport, with over a thousand top professionals touring the world year-round, inspired by this golden trio.

Clarey, the New York Times tennis correspondent, has been covering the sport throughout the reign of these three giants. With a ringside view of their careers, triumphs, and rivalries, he is well positioned to write Nadal’s biography, having already penned The Master: The Brilliant Career of Roger Federer (2022). Clarey can thus be called the Walter Isaacson of sports biographers — and we now await his verdict on Djokovic.

‘Learnt to enjoy suffering’

Sports biography has reached its peak in the last few decades, with most of the seminal works coming out of the United States — led, of course, by biographies of heavyweight boxers, whose ups, downs, and uppercuts are the stuff of both legend and history. Among these, the two biographies of Muhammad Ali — by David Remnick and Jonathan Eig — stand out as masterclasses in the form.

Then comes the worldwide bestselling autobiography Open by Andre Agassi (2009), and Undisputed Truth (2013), the raw, riveting autobiography of Mike Tyson. Both are ghostwritten, yet manage to take us straight to the heart of these great sportsmen — their struggles, their despairs, and their demons. From them, we understand not just how greatness is achieved, but how an individual conquers the world.

Christopher Clarey, by contrast, appears too much in love with the subjects of his biographies. Both of his books — on Federer and Nadal — border on hagiography. But then again, what fault can you find in world conquerors? The tragic flaws that make us human are mostly left out — unlike in Tyson’s account, where the vulnerabilities are part of the legend.

Also read: Not just Master of Clay, Nadal unleashed brute power on other surfaces too

Reading Clarey’s Nadal and Federer biographies, we are reminded, almost painfully, of how we all fall terribly short in the terrible battles of life. These men, on the other hand, stood tall: focused, training, winning, losing, and then winning again. Never giving up. Rising over and over to claim yet another title. To last out a five-set battle is the very epitome of sporting achievement. Of the last 70-odd Grand Slam titles, only three or four have gone to outliers. The rest are tucked safely into the overflowing cupboards of Nadal, Federer, and Djokovic.

In such stories, there is no frailty, no weakness, no injury that cannot be conquered, no major epic that cannot be stitched together. Everything is perfect. These men don’t seem human anymore — they are more like the stunning statue of Nadal at the entrance of Roland Garros: all steel.

So, it’s only natural that we seek the secret of such global success. Clarey, in pursuit of this answer, asks player after player who were demolished by Nadal about the reasons for the Spaniard’s greatness. “I have learnt to enjoy suffering,” Nadal told the press after winning the 2009 Australian Open, having come through two gruelling five-setters against Verdasco and then Federer. Well, there are others who have suffered, too, but few have come through the five-setters of life.

The secret to reach the top

Feliciano López, who is now in tennis management, says: “To play Rafa on clay is the worst experience a tennis player can have. First of all, it is 99.9 per cent certain you are going to lose. And second, he makes you feel so vulnerable. You can lose 6–1, 6–1 without doing anything wrong.”

Clarey seems too sold on the idea that clay is all Nadal is about, even though members of Nadal’s own team have said he can play superbly on any surface — as the evidence clearly shows. Clarey delves into the origins of clay at Roland Garros, the history of clay courts themselves, and even debunks a few long-standing theories. But for the player who’s losing, does it really matter whether it’s red clay or yellow? A loss is a loss.

Continuing the Nadal-clay connection, Clarey takes it several steps further: “Clay-court tennis suits his values, and surely some of those values came from clay-court tennis: the work ethic, the aversion to shortcuts, the need to think of others by pulling the drag mat after a practice session to smooth out the surface and the bumps for the next players...” This is a bit difficult to believe because all champions, regardless of surface, possess these values. And not all of them picked them up from clay. Some found them in books, in mentors, in personal hardship.

Also read: French Open 2025: Farewell for Nadal at a tournament he won a record 14 times

It has always been the eternal task of sports writers to figure out the elusive secret that champions have to reach the top. But where is this secret hidden? That’s the question. It’s the same reason why great players are often appointed coaches after retirement, like in Indian cricket. But the truth is: there is no secret device, hidden or open. There is no secret muscle, ligament, or bone that propels someone to the top. Nor is sporting talent automatically passed from father to son — or else Arjun Tendulkar wouldn’t have spent five years warming the bench for the Mumbai Indians without getting a single match.

Etched in memory

A player reaches the top by dint of sheer practice and hard work. Clarey tries hard to dig out any secrets — if there are any. In this voyage, he approaches several coaches as well. Coach Darren Cahill says this about Nadal’s cruel forehand: “It’s the physics of it — the RPMs he gets on it, the hand speed, and the fact that he’s actually a righty and can generate that much hand speed as a lefty is phenomenal. It’s a thing of beauty.”

Nadal, too, agrees that his forehand is the stroke he enjoys most — and it’s the most lethal: “The forehand, without a doubt. When I’m playing well, it is a true pleasure. I feel that I can control it, I can do what I want with it,” Nadal tells Clarey. It is interesting to note that Nadal is ambidextrous — he plays golf with his right hand. In his early years, he wasn’t sure whether to play tennis right-handed or left-handed. It was Uncle Toni, his guide and philosopher, who made the call. What a decision it turned out to be.

Wojtek Fibak, a former top-10 player from Poland who coached Ivan Lendl, has been an informal advisor to the Nadals. In 2004, he was in Sopot, Poland, where Nadal won his first ATP title. “I told everybody he was a genius, and he would win Roland-Garros. But that wasn’t a hard prediction to make. He has the gift of concentration. He didn’t win fourteen Roland-Garros titles with his muscles. He won them with his head.”

Whether it was his head or his left forearm, Nadal reached the top and stayed there for a long time. His five-setters are a delight for fans and a lesson for aspiring players, just as they are in the careers of his two great comrades-in-arms. Last week, when a plaque was unveiled on the red clay near the court as part of Roland-Garros’ celebration of Nadal, it felt like a sign of permanence. But even without a plaque, Nadal would have remained with us — etched in memory, myth, and history.