So many days have gone by since Rafa announced his retirement. When he handed us the memo, I said to myself, It’s still not the final goodbye. The Davis Cup was still left—the last tournament where he was actually going to rest his sword. I kept busy, just like Rafa in his training. The toughest decision of his life had already been made. Deep down, I knew that an arrow had been shot—and it was a surefire kill.

When his final tournament arrived, and as I watched him play again for the last time, I was secretly hoping for a win, so that he could go out in some sort of epic showdown. Nevertheless, we saw flickers of his undying fighting spirit, reminding us once again why he is, and will always remain, so revered. Unfortunately, that flicker was extinguished, and all the images of his final year’s performance came flooding back. It was a similar sinking feeling—but this time, it came with a more excruciating blow: We would never see him compete again in an official tournament. He has officially retired.

As I carried on with my chores, hoping life would resume and things would get back on course, I secretly acknowledged that a tragedy had occurred—and that another misery had inadvertently added itself to my life.

I suppose I had bottled up all the emotions ever since the announcement and had been living in denial. But as I write this, I feel a rush of emotions toppling me over like dominos, and it’s hard to remain standing.

All this time, I couldn’t bring myself to post a single photo of him, let alone express my gratitude for the countless memories he left in my mind. Because how do you say thank you to your breath? It’s just there—an integral part of you that keeps you going.

I still remember why I started watching tennis. One of the cardinal reasons was that I had heard about a bloke who had been vanquishing Federer. Little did I know that the fandom sparked in those early days would end up spanning my entire life.

There was no coming back from there. I would watch all his matches—sharing his disappointment of his losses, but celebrating every win with him. Deep down, I knew he was going to be the greatest sportsman to ever embrace any sport. Even then, I believed he would be the one to surpass 20 Grand Slams and break all records.

The 2008 Wimbledon final was, hands down, the greatest match to have ever taken place in the world of tennis. I was glued to the TV—a kid back then—biting my nails with every point, jumping in joy with every point he won. When he lifted that trophy, and so many more after that, I was fortunate enough to remain a constant, joyously jumping fan. Rafa gave us so many reasons to be.

The King of Clay, aptly named, proved that he wasn’t just limited to one surface or playstyle. The Australian Open miracle, where he came back from 2 two-sets-to-love down, teaches one of life’s most important lessons: never lose hope, even when the chips are down. His undying commitment to every point—the adage play each point as if it is your last—is another life lesson in disguise.

There were many disrespectful opponents who tried to mess with the Spaniard. But where are they now? What legacy did they leave behind? No one remembers their names. Rafa proved time and again how important it is to remain focused on the goal at hand, regardless of the world trying to bring you down.

One thing is certain—there will never be another sportsman like him. Not only was he humble, but he also wore another crown with pride: he never threw his racquet in anger. Even during the most testing times, he proved it was possible. To him, the tennis racquet was a gift from the Gods. How could he disrespect any aspect of the game that had given him so much?

Since his retirement, I’ve been living in a quiet kind of depression—in a world without Rafael Nadal, without the exhilaration of googling his name to find out where he was placed in a draw or which tournament he would be playing next. Tennis suddenly lost its meaning. There’s no particular name I search for the way I used to with Rafa. There’s no particular match I watch in full awe. His absence from the court feels like a bland experience.

Even though many youngsters are already climbing the ladder of success, what Rafa brought to the court was something no one else ever could. His presence on the court was the biggest part of me. So many matches watched, tennis truly admired and respected through his passion for the game.

I’ve seen thousands of videos since—all trying to show what a great athlete he was. What a player! These captions and titles attempt to justify every shot, as if that’s all the tennis he ever played. But how can we forget the tough times? There were plenty of unforced errors life flung at him—moments often overlooked when glorifying someone. I truly felt every such dip—like a body shot taken alongside him. Especially through all the injuries, without which he could have easily added a few more Grand Slams to his name.

Towards the end, he was going through the hardest of moments, as the weight gradually seeped into his bones, asking him to lay down his sword, which he eventually did. It was killing me more than him. But, as all good things must come to an end, he too accepted it—far more gracefully than I had imagined.

Unlike him, I couldn’t. All this time, I haven’t been able to—and maybe I never will. I can keep busy, sure, try to take tennis off my mind, but deep down I know that whenever I look at the court, with all the new faces trying to compete at the international level, I will secretly remember this rarest of gems—a player like no other, who battled like a true gladiator, with a relentless energy and force so awe-inspiring that even the Gods must have marveled at what could be achieved if you fight—truly fight—for it.

Rafa! I know you’re not dead. And it feels absurd that this writing might even hint at something like that—but to all of us tennis fans, it truly feels that way. As if something crucial has passed on, like the torch you handed over to the next generation in the Olympics.

I want to thank you—truly, from the bottom of my heart—for existing in our universe, for letting us witness the most incredible tennis the world has ever seen, for turning the most extraordinary feats into reality, and for being an inspiration not only to tennis lovers but to every sportsperson who looks at your resilience and fathoms that anything is possible—that you have to fight till your very last breath.

This one’s for you.

Love forever.
Rafa forever!