The Warrior

Unforced Error

This project starts out promising, with an early chapter teasing readers into thinking we’d get a unique look at the philosophy of Rafa, and in particular his uncle Tony, who is largely responsible for the ferocious style Nadal developed over his career. Alas, that promise is unfulfilled, and by the fourth chapter or so, this reader realized that the text would be little more than a scattershot survey of Nadal’s rise to fame and era of dominance. Clarey’s biggest sin, in my opinion, is that the book lacks both a narrative engine and a strong thematic structure. A possible and potentially rich path is hinted at in the first few chapters, but never realized, and the resulting collection of essays feel like drafts that could’ve done with a few more revisions. The back half of the book often made me angry in its meandering. The experience ends up feeling like the author was merely capitalizing on Nadal’s name, piggy-backing on the energy spent producing his preceding book on Roger Federer (The Master), and often feels sloppy and disjointed. I abandoned the book about 80% of the way through. It was just too frustrating a read, compounded by the fact that he centers himself, as a journalist, far too often. Clarey spends so much time discussing Fed and Djokovic, that more than anything, I couldn’t stop thinking he should’ve just written a book titled The Big Three where he could relate the stories and intersection of these great stars. Unfortunately, much of what’s contained in The Warrior is rehashed material from The Master (which is good, solid, but in the author’s own words, “episodic”), and presented with less care or motivation than he found in Fed’s book. I do anticipate he is in the midst of writing a book on Novak, and if this project on Nadal is any indication of what another sequel to The Master promises, I’ll not be picking up a copy. It’s a shame because clearly the research and information for a good book exists within the pages of The Warrior, but it’s so lazily organized and structured that a portrait of a generational tennis star who had an uncanny sense for detail and subtly is betrayed by an author who failed to treat his subject with the requisite respect and rigor that a book about Rafael Nadal demands. Please take more time with the next one, Mr. Clarey.