Christopher Clarey, a sports writer, has covered over 100 Grand Slam tennis tournaments (and 15 Olympics) for The New York Times and The International Herald Tribune. He also wrote the celebrated 2021 book The Master: The Long Run and Beautiful Game of Roger Federer. His latest work, The Warrior: Rafael Nadal and His Kingdom of Clay, is the definitive account of the greatest clay-court player in history—though, as Clarey notes, Nadal also won eight other Grand Slam titles on different surfaces, an Olympic gold medal, and nearly every major honor in tennis.

We recently spoke with Clarey about his insightful book and asked him to highlight a few players—both men and women—to watch as the French Open begins this Sunday.

Vogue: Early in your book, you casually describe your approach as “method writing.” It’s structured around 20 chapters, covering everything from Nadal’s biography and development to deep dives into the history of European clay courts and past French Open champions. There’s even a technical breakdown of why Nadal’s strokes made him so dominant. It’s fascinating—but how did you decide on this format?

Christopher Clarey: I wrote The Master about Federer in 2021, which, while not strictly chronological, was very much his story—his rivals, his personal journey. When I considered writing about Nadal—whom I’d also covered since his early days—I didn’t want to retread the same creative ground. Then, when Nadal reached 14 French Open titles, I thought, That’s a number tennis fans will remember forever.

I’d long wanted to write a book about Roland-Garros. My wife is French, my kids are French-American, I’ve lived there for years, and I still have a place in Paris. I feel deeply connected to the tournament and wanted to tell its story. Combining these two ideas—Nadal and Roland-Garros—felt natural. Rafa transformed the tournament, both physically (there’s now a statue of him at the entrance) and in terms of what people believed was possible on clay. And Roland-Garros shaped Rafa, allowing him to reach his full potential. It was the perfect match.

Vogue: Seeing that statue at Roland-Garros was striking—a Spaniard honored so prominently at the French Open? It seemed surprising, yet who else could it be? But as you detail in the book, Nadal wasn’t always embraced there, was he?

Clarey: No, and that’s important to acknowledge. There’s a chapter called “The Backlash” that explores this. When Rafa first arrived in Paris, he was a teenage prodigy, and the crowd loved the novelty. But once it became clear he was unstoppable, some fans grew weary of the predictability. In 2009, when he lost to Robin Söderling, the atmosphere was openly hostile—people weren’t just cheering for the underdog; they were actively rooting against Rafa.

Over time, though, Nadal became inevitable, almost like a force of nature. He became part of Roland-Garros itself. The French eventually recognized the futility of resisting him and came to admire his perseverance, his discipline, his dignity, and how deeply he valued their tournament.

And what he was doing—winning 14 titles—was simply extraordinary.Let’s be honest—Rafa Nadal’s career was extraordinary, one of the greatest achievements in sports history. That was clear to anyone who watched last year’s Olympic opening ceremony, where he received the torch from Zinedine Zidane, France’s ultimate sports hero, in a defining moment—once again representing Spain.

Nadal carrying the Olympic torch in Paris during last year’s opening ceremony.
Photo: Getty Images

I heard they’re honoring him at Roland-Garros on Sunday?
Yes—that’s part of why my book is coming out now, to align with this tribute at the tournament he defined. When he left Roland-Garros last year, he didn’t announce his retirement or anything like that. He never really had that moment of closure. His final appearance at the Davis Cup in Spain last November didn’t go as planned—his team lost early in a late-night match. It wasn’t the grand farewell his incredible career deserved. So I expect Sunday to be something special—a big, emotional moment.

I’ve interviewed Rafa a couple of times and found him elusive in that typical athlete way—always saying things like, “I try my best.” You’ve known him much longer. Was it hard to get him to open up? For me, the language barrier didn’t help, but he also never seemed like someone who felt the need to explain himself.
The language barrier definitely plays a role—less so now, but especially early in his career. My Spanish was decent, so I always interviewed him in his native language, which helped me connect with him and his team. It also gave me a clearer sense of who he really is. He’s far more relaxed, expressive, and even funny in Spanish—more eloquent, too.

But you’re right—one of his strengths is that he sees things simply. He has incredible clarity about competition and his motivations. At the same time, there’s a contrarian streak in him—maybe it’s a family trait, or a Mallorcan thing, I’m not sure. If you tell Rafa he’s the greatest, he’ll argue. If you say he has no chance, he’ll argue that too. He always balances things out.

Your book is called The Warrior, which captures his relentless will to win. You quote his uncle Toni, his longtime mentor, saying after Rafa’s hard-fought fourth French Open title: “It’s more beautiful when it’s hard.” Later, Rafa himself says, “Maybe I like more fighting to win than to win.”
That really gets to the heart of who he is. He’s not Federer—you don’t watch him for effortless elegance. It’s about sheer determination, refusing to lose no matter what. That unbreakable will to keep going.

You nailed it—and I love that you highlighted those quotes, especially “I like more fighting to win than to win.” If there’s one line to sum up Rafa, that’s it.

The other quote came from a moment of self-reflection, where he was trying to explain what drove him. This book dives deep into his rivalry with Djokovic (The Master focused more on Federer and Nadal), and while writing it, I realized Djokovic seems to… [text continues]Some players feel they have something to prove to the world, but I believe Rafael Nadal has always played to prove something to himself. Proving yourself to others might have an endpoint, but proving it to yourself never really does. That’s why Rafa pushed himself through Toni Nadal’s grueling practice sessions—hitting the ball twice as hard as necessary—or why he brought Grand Slam final-level intensity to early-round matches against weaker opponents. There was never any letup. In the end, Toni and Rafa reached a mindset where the race wasn’t about winning—it was about embracing the challenge itself. That was the only way it could work.

Another Spaniard, Carlos Alcaraz, has openly expressed his admiration for Rafa. Is he Nadal’s true successor in terms of relentless fighting spirit?

In terms of on-court demeanor, I’d say Jannik Sinner actually resembles Rafa more than Alcaraz does. For Sinner, tennis isn’t lighthearted—he shares that same drive for self-improvement. Stylistically, Alcaraz and Rafa are very different. Alcaraz loves to entertain the crowd—much like Federer did, though Federer didn’t always show it outwardly. You can see it in Alcaraz’s play—have you ever seen Rafa cup his ear to hype up the crowd after a winner? Never. And you never saw Rafa smash a racket in frustration like Alcaraz did last year after tough losses. Their Spanish heritage and talent connect them, but Rafa was built—or built himself—to last. Whether Alcaraz can do the same remains to be seen. His career might be more unpredictable, with injury risks due to his aggressive style. But my goodness, he’s thrilling to watch—some of his shots leave me in awe.

Who else should we watch at the French Open? Is it too soon for João Fonseca?

Fonseca could make some noise, but I don’t think he’s ready to dominate yet. Still, he’s worth keeping an eye on.

The player who really intrigues me is Arthur Fils, a 20-year-old Frenchman. He’s flashy, powerful, and charismatic, and he’s had some tight matches against top players like Alcaraz on clay this season. He’s clearly leveled up and will have the home crowd behind him—the kind of energy he thrives on.

If I had to pick a winner, I’d go with Alcaraz—if he’s at his best. But whether he can sustain that is uncertain. Alexander Zverev is another interesting case—he’s too talented to never win a major, and with this being a somewhat open year, he has a real shot if he finds his form.

You can’t count out Sinner—his ball-striking is phenomenal, and while clay isn’t his best surface, he’s still dangerous. Then there’s Casper Ruud, a two-time French Open finalist with a game perfectly suited for clay. His heavy topspin forehand and court coverage mirror Rafa’s style. In his past finals, he lost only to Nadal and Djokovic—neither of whom will be in his way this year unless Djokovic (who recently split with his longtime coach) makes a late surge.Former coach Andy Murray pulled off one of the all-time comebacks and somehow turned his career around. You can never completely count out a player of his caliber, but lately, he hasn’t shown many signs of being a true contender.

What about the women’s side? Have you seen Mirra Andreeva play?

I have—Mirra is in that exciting phase where big things could happen, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she becomes a French Open champion. She loves the game and plays with maturity, though she can still lose her temper and lose focus at times. Mentally, she’s not unshakable. But she has a strong serve, a commanding presence on the court, and the ability to handle different situations with composure. She’s definitely a contender.

I’d put Aryna Sabalenka at the top, especially since conditions in Paris tend to be a bit faster. She’s a step ahead of everyone else right now. Iga Świątek, on the other hand, seems to be struggling—both mentally and physically. She hasn’t looked like herself this season and appears vulnerable.

Coco Gauff can be brilliant on her best days, but at times, her old issues with the forehand and serve resurface. Then there are players like Jasmine Paolini and Diana Shnaider, the young Russian Paolini beat in Rome last week. Shnaider is a solid dark horse—huge forehand, powerful game, and she thrives on clay.

It’s shaping up to be a fascinating year, with so many possibilities on both tours. That’s what makes it exciting. My only request? Don’t give us a different winner every year. I’d love to see some rivalries and continuity alongside the surprises.

This conversation has been edited and condensed.

The Warrior: Rafael Nadal and His Kingdom of Clay
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