It sat there on the corner of the tennis court, existing idly, a sort of plastic buoy set adrift in a blue ocean. Rafael Nadal had finished a practice session—taxing, as ever—at the 2008 U.S. Open. He headed off, grabbing a bag full of his gear, but absently leaving behind a bottle of Evian water.
Back in the locker room, Nadal realized he had committed a grievous unforced error. The infraction: littering. But really, it was something more. He had left open the door to a cardinal sin of arrogance, or the appearance thereof. To Nadal, there was no greater violation of the social compact than thinking you were better than anyone else.
