When Rafael Nadal is back on the island of Mallorca, where he was born and raised, he is neither a tennis star nor a global icon.He’s Rafa, who’s somehow connected to everyone. His parents eat at my nephew’s restaurant. His sister was friends in school with my husband’s sister. The selfie requests are minimal. Nobody cares what he’s wearing (invariably, a T-shirt, shorts and sandals) or eating (bet on some form of seafood pasta). When he fills up his car in his hometown of Manacor or buys bait in Porto Cristo, he does so without eliciting interruption or awe.
There are, however, a few drawbacks to living among familiar surroundings and remaining part of your community. For instance, when Nadal leaves for a tournament, everyone in town knows that he’s away. They know where he lives. They know that his plot of land—on a bay on the island’s east side, leading to the Mediterranean—is a drop-dead-gorgeous spot, prime for both cliff jumping and hanging out. When Nadal returns from the road, he often finds forensic evidence that his property was public property. “The beer cans, especially,” he says. “It means [kids] have a good time.”
Last year, however, the locals didn’t get much use out of Nadal’s land, as the owner didn’t spend much time away. And for a while it looked as if the kids of Mallorca would never again have months of free reign on the property. Ever since Nadal turned pro, 20 (gulp) years ago, his career has been pocked with injuries. Knee. Back. Arm. But the injury that flared up in 2021 was different. He’d had a rare foot injury, Mueller-Weiss syndrome, earlier in his career and had overcome it. But here it was again in his left foot, roaring back and bringing a stab of pain even when he walked around casually. Nadal’s doctors feared the bone near the top of his arch was simply disintegrating.
