Tuesday Tirade

I like Rafael Nadal. While I don't consider myself a bona fide fan, his rise to the top of tennis after an historic run at No. 2 has been awe inspiring. So close but yet so far for so long, another wannabe king propped up by hype and circumstance and talent threatened to swat the Mallorcan aside and overthrow the Great One. Demeaned as one-dimensional by a chorus of rivals, fans, and experts alike - as though the repetition of the descriptor would make it so - Rafa went about his business, improving his game, fighting for every point. And winning.

A lesser man would not have held up.

But hold up he did. A fourth Roland Garros trophy. That coveted Wimbledon trophy of trophies. An Olympic Gold. The year-end No. 1 ranking trophy. Not to mention three Masters shields. Some smartass on a tennis forum I frequent had the nerve to say that compared to the best season of this generation's other great champion, Rafa's year was "nothing special." As I type this, the ATP website is headlining this poll on its frontpage: Federer Backed By Fans To Regain No. 1 Ranking by the end of 2009. That the ATP would even ask fans such a question before, say, next summer strikes me as a huge insult to 2008's best player.

Visceral resistance to Rafa's reign is the prevailing sentiment in many circles. To them, he's a sand nigger not worthy of such eminence. In a June 2007 GQ feature, a writer practically called him one. He tried to hide behind thinly veiled euphemisms and code words, if you can even call them that, describing Rafa as greasy, impure, brutish, and barbaric. The writer took so much heat for his racist characterization he felt compelled to make a visit to a few fan forums to defend his rhetoric as a literary exercise in irony. I didn't buy it. You see, tennis pundits and well-read analysts and bloggers refer to Rafa as a savage beast without batting an eyelash. The GQ writer simply put meat on the bone and the editor served it raw to his erudite readers. It's not called Gentlemen's Quarterly for nothing.

Any solidification of Spain as a world tennis power, with Rafa as its leader, in the wake of its Davis Cup victory is more than welcome. An embarrassment of riches, really.

And a big old Fuck You to the circle-jerking purists. Pun intended.

But I wanted Argentina to triumph. I did. Not because I'm a fan of any particular player, though I have enjoyed the best tennis that David Nalbandian and José Acasuso and Guillermo Cañas and Juan Mónaco and Agustín Calleri have to offer. They just don't offer it much. Remember Guillermo Coria? And Juan Martín del Potro could become a force if he could put some meat on his bones.

I wanted Argentina to triumph because too many of its players have been viciously smeared as dopers, scapegoated, if you will, in the face of compelling evidence to the contrary, while the high-profile dopers from predominantly white nations get to hide behind slaps on wrists, leaves of absence, and abrupt retirements. Even when one of them is caught on tape, so to speak, she retires in denial and her legacy is defended tooth and nail by those who put their trust in her lying innocence.

I wanted Argentina to triumph because when I look at these faces...



...I want Argentina to rise. The nation has produced a living legend, but never a Davis Cup victory. What better for its tennis future, for the future of all those round, brown, beautiful faces, than to win the coveted cup on home soil? What better for the sport than to have a future tennis power below the equator that isn't Australia? Argentina needs a big win. A Grand Slam. A Davis Cup. Even Chile has a pair of Olympic Golds.

I want change. I'll settle for nothing less. I'm spoiled now.