Today Rafael Nadal lost the U.S. Open semifinal to the long-limbed and powerful Argentine, Juan Martin Del Potro. Del Potro prevailed, and Rafa "faltered," "was dominated," according to the media reports. I always try to keep in mind that there is usually more to the story than meets the eye, and that's why I like to draw my conclusions after listening to Rafa directly. I take articles and columns with a grain of salt. There are lots of opinions, but accuracy and truth always seem more difficult to ferret out!
But beyond the immediate details of the match analysis, another question lingers for me. Why is Rafa's win (or loss) so important to me? Why does the outcome of his match make my heart sing, or send me into despair? It seems awfully silly. It's just a game, after all -- just a measure of two men -- both extraordinary athletes -- at a particular point in time.
As I explore this mystery of why and how Rafa speaks to me so deeply, what do I find? I find a man of great beauty and talent -- with exceptional heart and courage. And every time I see him play, I want to be like him. I want to have his undaunted courage in hitting the ball all out when he's one point away from going down. I want to feel with him the joy expressed in the fist pump -- the joy of seeing something good happening after you've risked it all.
I want to understand how he is so gracious and kind in defeat. I want to mirror his acceptance of the bad things that are sure to come. And when those bad things do come knocking at my door, I don't want to be destroyed by them.
Seeing how Rafa accepts defeat, though painful, is probably even more important for me than revelling in his youthful joys in victory. Because when I hear him say, "you must accept," meaning you must accept a win or loss for any match you play, I have hope that I, too, can accept the agonies and the thrills of life with equal grace and calm.
I love how Rafa refers to a "calm" that comes over him at times when he plays. I marvel in that calm when I observe it, and I long for that calm to reside in me. It is a mystery to me how this youthful king of a man accepts a discouraging defeat or carries an injury that wears on him over time until he must want to throw it all in, and yet he never seems to lose his joy, or at least his hope for having joy again, nor his courage to strike out after it.
Oh, how I wish I had his courage to accept my defeats and discouragements!
When I see him, I think "maybe I CAN do it." Maybe, if I watch Rafa enough times, I can find the strength inside to face the biggest blow I have ever endured: the death of my precious husband.
It may seem silly, it may seem weird, to express these kinds of feelings for tennis, and one tennis player in particular. Many of my friends tease me for watching Rafa, the "hunk" of tennis. Granted, that hunk factor cannot be denied or repressed! But I follow Rafa for deeper reasons.
I follow Rafael Nadal because he helps me come back to peace (calm), joy and hope. He is not, by any measure, a god. The God who has brought me such intense, overriding pain and sorrow (or at least allowed it) seems a little too scary to let close. However, in Rafa, I see an expression of the Creator's glory and grace, and I am drawn to it.
And maybe that's enough for right now.
But beyond the immediate details of the match analysis, another question lingers for me. Why is Rafa's win (or loss) so important to me? Why does the outcome of his match make my heart sing, or send me into despair? It seems awfully silly. It's just a game, after all -- just a measure of two men -- both extraordinary athletes -- at a particular point in time.
As I explore this mystery of why and how Rafa speaks to me so deeply, what do I find? I find a man of great beauty and talent -- with exceptional heart and courage. And every time I see him play, I want to be like him. I want to have his undaunted courage in hitting the ball all out when he's one point away from going down. I want to feel with him the joy expressed in the fist pump -- the joy of seeing something good happening after you've risked it all.
I want to understand how he is so gracious and kind in defeat. I want to mirror his acceptance of the bad things that are sure to come. And when those bad things do come knocking at my door, I don't want to be destroyed by them.
Seeing how Rafa accepts defeat, though painful, is probably even more important for me than revelling in his youthful joys in victory. Because when I hear him say, "you must accept," meaning you must accept a win or loss for any match you play, I have hope that I, too, can accept the agonies and the thrills of life with equal grace and calm.
I love how Rafa refers to a "calm" that comes over him at times when he plays. I marvel in that calm when I observe it, and I long for that calm to reside in me. It is a mystery to me how this youthful king of a man accepts a discouraging defeat or carries an injury that wears on him over time until he must want to throw it all in, and yet he never seems to lose his joy, or at least his hope for having joy again, nor his courage to strike out after it.
Oh, how I wish I had his courage to accept my defeats and discouragements!
When I see him, I think "maybe I CAN do it." Maybe, if I watch Rafa enough times, I can find the strength inside to face the biggest blow I have ever endured: the death of my precious husband.
It may seem silly, it may seem weird, to express these kinds of feelings for tennis, and one tennis player in particular. Many of my friends tease me for watching Rafa, the "hunk" of tennis. Granted, that hunk factor cannot be denied or repressed! But I follow Rafa for deeper reasons.
I follow Rafael Nadal because he helps me come back to peace (calm), joy and hope. He is not, by any measure, a god. The God who has brought me such intense, overriding pain and sorrow (or at least allowed it) seems a little too scary to let close. However, in Rafa, I see an expression of the Creator's glory and grace, and I am drawn to it.
And maybe that's enough for right now.
