A Complicated Identity

It was the summer of 2005. Life was at a tumultuous turn at twenty years and was rebelliously seeking newer avenues of expression and something intensely deep. It was at that time I had first noticed him; a ferociously competitive teenager from Spain who had defeated the then No. 1 Roger Federer in Semis at Rolland Garros. At First, it didn’t seem that Rafael Nadal belonged to the same sport which Sampras and Federer played. Clad in White capri pants and a sleeveless shirt with a warrior like muscular build, he didn’t look like a professional tennis player at all. He appeared almost fanatic with his shirt-tug, hair-tuck pre-serve rituals, making symmetrical placement of his bottles and towels, but couple of games into a match, one would have realized, he meant only business. And the kind of fierce tennis he played; he could have put courts on fire! I had liked him instantly that summer. So much that I sported black denim capri pants almost the whole of following year. The passion, the