The crowd, as it always seems to be anywhere other than Spain, was firmly in the Swiss's corner. “Everyone's favourite player,” as he was introduced at the post-final ceremony, just before he could not hold back the tears. “Not everyone,” a lone voice responded and it must have felt to Nadal that lone voices were all he could call on.
But to look at his support team yesterday - uncle Toni, his coach, Sebastien, his father, and Rafael, his physical trainer - in the front row, was to be privy to something intriguing. Even when their boy was down, when to the rest of us he had to be playing on fumes rather than adrenalin, they could not stop smiling. We know that this is the Spanish disposition, but it was as if they knew something those outside the circle required four hours, 23 minutes to ascertain. That Nadal would be holding new silverware.
Our own Helen W is right: it's an excellent essay.
He nails it to the wall.
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