Of fear and oblivion: Thoughts of a Rafa Nadal fan

Oblivion is always a dreaded word, especially in the sporting world. For, even though it remains shrouded in the darkest corners of one’s mind most of the time, the awareness of its existence is a glaring reminder of the ticking end to a sportsman’s professional timeline. And with Rafa Nadal as the topic of choice, the word oblivion goes on take on a completely different meaning and interpretation altogether.

Between the recent triumphs of Nole, Federer and Murray, the Spaniard somehow seems to have faded away. Not in complete oblivion, of course as periodic updates about his prognosis keep coming our way, but the idea of him fading away thoroughly from the active tennis world seems even more factual as each year Rafa’s tournament appearances dwindle as the season progresses by.

The end of 2008 was the start of the blip, 2009 a harsh reminder and 2012 – a reality check. And as regards 2013, it just seems far off. There are talks of comeback and however promising they might be, they are still talks and a tall order especially when juxtaposed with the unexpected that unfolded somewhere in June and escalated to shroud over the remainder of the season. But it’s not really about comebacks and achieving lost ground, as much as it is about being forgotten; about being discarded as a hero of the past, unable to sustain himself in the present. Be it 2008 or 2009 or the present, there’s that distinct feeling of an incoming state of forgetfulness, like a premonition of gloom, each time Rafa steps on and off the court.

A sportsman’s shelf-life can never be compared with that of his peers, for no two sportsmen are ever alike. But sometimes, we can’t help but wonder. ‘If only Rafa was much fitter and less vulnerable to injuries’ and ‘Why does it always have to be him?’ Questions raised, queries quelled, each time an injury sparks off. Hearts and minds, both ask queries – more serious the injury, the more distressed and repetitive the questions. But just as it always happens, queries like these are simply rhetorical with answers that are largely self- explanatory and more than that, answers that somehow seek verbal confirmation to deflect fears that nothing’s going to go wrong with their player.

Fear is natural, a state of life. But when injuries strike – either one’s own self or someone about whom we care about, someone to whom we are devoted to – fear becomes visible and tangible; a force that makes everyone want to tackle it, whether they can actually attempt to do so or not. It then becomes more than physical pain and transforms into an emotional and mental agony that drains endurance like no other.

People, it’s said of fear, don’t actually fear a particular thing but are rather scared of the symbolism of eventualities that’ll invariably unfold. The changes that that particular thing might bring about, the unwelcoming nature of these changes in their day-to-day lives and most of it all, the feeling that they’ll get used to the newer alterations, leave the old and the past behind and thereby, permanently alter their thoughts and their alliances with the past. And thus become totally and irrevocably oblivious to the past and its significance who, in this case, happens to be Rafa.

From oblivion to fear and then again to threatening obliviousness, it’s like a big vicious circle. Be it fear of further setbacks to Rafa’s career or dread for any risks that’ll prevent his successful return to the game, it’s all related to Rafa’s presence dissolving – slowly, but steadily. From the top of the rankings, from the top of his game and finally even from our active memory, till only a bleak shadow of the Spaniard remains in the farthest corners of our recollections.