Rafael Nadal helped me maintain a connection to my ailing father

Legacy – a term recently dismissed by Mike Tyson in an interview that has since gone viral – can be a difficult thing to quantify, especially when it comes to discussing the greats.

As Rafael Nadal bids farewell to professional tennis, his lasting impact on the sport, and beyond, is undeniable.

Since he exploded onto the scene two decades ago, young kids across the world put on capri pants and sleeveless shirts and vamos’ed their way to the nearest tennis court. Grown-ups watching him felt the urge to fight a little bit harder to get through a tough day.

Pro athletes envied his grit, his physique, his mentality, his ability to accept the things that are out of his control, and the class and humility he exuded through it all.

As tributes pour in for the one-of-a-kind champion, the ones that stand out are mostly from his peers.

Serena Williams thanked him for inspiring her “to be better, to play harder, to fight, to never give up, and to win more. No excuses just play the sport,” wrote the American.

Maria Sharapova said she has “so much respect for your grit, your love of the ‘fight’, and the pure class with which you showed up, even on a tough day.”

Roger Federer admitted Nadal forced him to reimagine his game so he could find ways to beat him. “You made me enjoy the game even more,” wrote the Swiss.

Marin Cilic marvelled at how the Spaniard carried himself. “Your virtues are the ones to be desired in any athlete,” he added. Lleyton Hewitt said Nadal, as a competitor, was “second to none”.

Ben Shelton echoed the Aussie’s sentiments, saying: “He's one of those guys you never think is out of it, one of those almost perfect competitors.” Taylor Fritz grew up watching Nadal and described him as “the perfect role model for younger tennis players”.

The list goes on and on.

Tyson said he doesn’t believe in the word ‘legacy’. “I just think that’s another word for ego. Legacy doesn’t mean nothing,” said the boxing legend. “It means absolutely nothing to me. I’m just passing through. I’m going to die and it’s going to be over. Who cares about legacy after that?”

As the world comes to terms with Nadal’s retirement following his Davis Cup defeat to the Netherlands' Botic van de Zandschulp on Tuesday, it’s impossible not to believe in his legacy. It’s vast, palpable, and for each one of us, it can be very personal.

I started watching Nadal on TV with my father when the Spaniard was just a teenager. We bonded over his tenacity, unique style, forehand topspin, and ability to pull off impossible comebacks.

When my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, watching Nadal with him became my favourite activity. I could ignore all the ways his brain was changing, and just enjoy our common love for the sport and our admiration for its fiercest competitor.

With time, my father started to forget all the intricacies of the tennis scoring system (something he had taught me himself when I was young) and repeatedly asked me to explain it to him during matches – a development that was hard for me to accept, except when I was watching the master of acceptance.

He started forgetting the meaning of terms like ‘deuce’ and ‘tiebreak’, but bizarrely never forgot the name ‘Nadal’. He stopped understanding what I did for a living, but for a long time remembered it had something to do with tennis, and the first question he always asked me was: “Did Nadal win?”

He was forgetting so much vocabulary, which made it hard for him to form sentences, but the name 'Nadal' was somehow still tucked away in some miraculously accessible part of his mind.

We had an annual tradition for a few years, which was to attend the Mubadala World Tennis Championship around Christmas time in Abu Dhabi. My parents would make the trip from Cairo and we’d all go to the tennis together. I’d sneak away from the press seats and go sit next to my dad to watch Nadal, who never missed that exhibition tournament in the years my father was there.

My dad couldn’t be happier.

After the matches, I’d tell him I have to run to the press conference room to speak to Nadal and he always said the same thing: “Tell him I said hi.” I’d explain to my dad that’s not something a journalist should do, but he kept asking me to do it anyway. I’m a little sad I never did.

My father passed away 13 months ago, and in his last few years, he wasn’t able to communicate much. We'd watch the occasional tennis match – just a few games – months and months apart, and all I wanted was for him to ask me about Nadal.

Instead, it was my mum who was the one asking. And my sisters. And everyone close to me. What started as a bonding experience for two, mushroomed into a community of appreciation for a sporting legend.

In Cairo, you are either an Ahly family, or a Zamalek family. The Abulleil household is a Nadal family.

When I think about the Spaniard’s legacy, I think about the joy he brought to my father, our family, and the many other families across the globe.

In my book, that doesn’t mean nothing. It’s everything.