Frankie’s News has today intercepted a letter from Novak Djokovic—a tennis player known for his sense of humour—to his (former) tennis buddy, Rafael Nadal. However, this letter is anything but funny. It seems that a beautiful friendship has come to an end, and we at Frankie’s News are still wiping away our tears.
We advise our readers to grab a box of tissues before reading the letter, which is printed below:
Dear Rafa,
We have always been good friends, you and I. We have enjoyed a spot of golf together, had fun playing some poker in Monte Carlo, and spent many a night debating who has the larger female fan base (I don’t care the size, at least I am kind enough to remove my shirt for my female fans when I have won a tournament).
I have always taken defeat at your hands very gracefully, especially when we play on clay, as I know that you will always be the overwhelming favourite there.
Did I complain when you won in Monte Carlo, even though I managed to take a set from you? No.
Did I manage to keep a smile plastered on my face a couple of weeks later when you stole my title in Rome? Yes.
So I really feel that you could have at least given me Madrid. Yeah, yeah, I know, it is your home turf and all that, but you didn’t even want to play there at first! Don’t think I didn’t hear you complaining about the altitude, the bad ball bounces, and the fast surface.
You know, the minute I start complaining, the whole media pounce on me.
I did not moan even though I had to fly all the way to Spain after only just having won the Serbian Open. I (unlike some) am proud to have set up an event in my home country and to have played in front of my home crowd.
You couldn’t even be bothered to do me a favour and come and play in Serbia to give the event a bit more prestige…and then you complained about your own country’s event!
OK, so perhaps I am going slightly off the point here, but I am still very cross about the whole thing.
I didn’t complain about the heat once, and I made less fuss about my aches and pains than you did about your knees. I won the first set 6-3 in a matter of minutes, and I took you to two tiebreakers. I did not give up when you won the second set, and I played phenomenal tennis throughout the match.
In my opinion, I actually played better than you.
I had two match points, for God’s sake. What more do I have to do? Do you have no heart? No mercy?
I may have given you a hug at the end of the match, but I was thinking about “accidentally” whacking you around the head with my racket.
You have torn out my heart and shred it to pieces. It is a good thing this wasn’t a final, or I may have pulled a “Roger” in the trophy ceremony.
To make matters worse, you then lost to Roger in straight sets the next day. What are you trying to do? Humiliate me?
So that’s it. I am no longer your friend. If you see me in the locker room in Paris, please do not come up to me, or you may end up having to pull out of the French Open due to some serious injuries.
Your ex-tennis buddy,
