A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words: Aging, Inclusive Masculinities, and Media Celebrity

Abstract

In this essay, I want to engage critically the concept of “inclusive masculinities” to argue that it needs to account for the dimension of age. As part of a third phase of masculinity research that goes beyond the theoretical framework of “hegemonic masculinity” (Connell) to fathom the diversification of forms of masculinity, Eric Anderson deploys “inclusive masculinities” to theorize the proliferation of a plurality of non-vertical, non-hegemonic types of masculinity. These varied types allow for emotional intimacy with friends and physical tactility with other men, embracing activities and objects once coded feminine and, crucially, they eschew violence and bullying. As inclusive as this paradigm of changing masculinities is, it has largely overlooked the dimension of age. Aging men in film, media, and popular culture are typically depicted in a stay of decay and decline, while shifting patterns of masculinity seem to be limited to youth males.

My case study for this cross-reading of inclusive masculinities with aging studies is an iconic photograph of two aging celebrity athletes. On September 23, 2022, freelance photographer Ella Ling captured an image of tennis superstars Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal holding hands while sobbing uncontrollably during the tribute paid to the former’s retirement from professional tennis. The photo went viral on social media, and journalists and fans were quick to embrace it as a corrective to what popular discourse refers to as “toxic masculinity.” I will analyze this photo as an iconic picture that captures the masculine zeitgeist of contemporary times. The image of the two male celebrities expressing affection and friendship is all the more significant given that failure in elite sports is usually tied to inability to manage emotions. This photo not only challenges prevailing norms around masculine behavior but also the way young athletes are socialized into sport (privileging hypermasculinity, dominance, and aggression). As a visual positive model of inclusive and of aging masculinities (compared to the infamous images of bravado of younger tennis stars such as Nick Kyrgios and Alexander Zverev), this photo also makes great strides in presenting a forward-looking picture of Iberian aging masculinities. This is particularly crucial for Rafael Nadal’s celebrity brand, which is associated with a traditional form of manhood (his brand logo is “the raging bull” connoting masculinity, strength, and power), and who has been involved in sound polemics regarding his backwards views on gender equality.

Keywords:

• ‘inclusive masculinities’
• aging
• celebrity
• Rafael Nadal
• Roger Federer

On September 23, 2022, freelance photographer Ella Ling captured an image of tennis superstars Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal holding hands while sobbing uncontrollably. This striking moment took place during the tribute paid to Federer for his retirement from professional tennis at the Laver Cup held in London. The photo encapsulated such a privileged moment that it almost felt like an intrusion into something meant to be confidential and private. As Susan Sontag stated, “there is something predatory in the act of taking a picture. To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves” (10). Due to its signifying potential, the photo went viral on social media, spurring varied reactions and comments. Many journalists and fans were quick to embrace it as a corrective act to what is popularly known as “toxic masculinity” (Villahermosa).¹ Having two of the most admired male athletes express their emotions so openly on the court was amply described as a raw moment that, in the words of the photographer, “will do a lot of good for society” (Riddell and Ramsay). For others, the recognition and hype over this incident was excessive and ran the risk of reinforcing certain power structures in our society. The same gesture carried out by men of diverse sexual identities has traditionally been met with repression and stigma. Why are we now glorifying it just because it is between “two privileged, heterosexual, white, multimillionaire and European men”? From this point of view, the real question that we need to ask is “who is allowed to show vulnerability and why, and who isn’t and why” (Pereyra).

Building on this intense public conversation, my goal in this essay is to analyze this photo as an iconic image that captures the masculine zeitgeist of contemporary times. This photo challenges outdated norms about masculine behavior by showing that it is fine for men to show vulnerabilities and to engage in physical and emotional intimacy with other men. It also shows an alternative to the way young athletes are socialized into sport (privileging hypermasculinity, dominance, and aggression) with a positive model of inclusive and aging masculinities that exudes fair play and camaraderie. In so doing, this photo also makes great strides in presenting a forward-looking picture of Iberian aging masculinities. This is particularly crucial for Rafael Nadal’s celebrity brand, which is associated with a traditional form of manhood (his brand logo is “the raging bull” connoting masculinity, strength, and power), and who, in the past, has been involved in sound polemics regarding his views on gender equality.

The image of Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal expressing affection and friendship was especially significant given that failure in professional sports tends to be entwined with incapacity to control emotions (Terry xv). There is an extensive body of research, even if narrowly focused on anxiety and stress (Furley 27), that contends that athletes who can manage their emotions, particularly in high-pressure situations, achieve optimal performance in their field. Emotions in sport contexts are understood as “phenomenal experiences exerting functional or dysfunctional effects towards performance” (Ruiz and Robazza xviii). That is, they influence professional athletes’ decision-making capacity and, therefore, the overall execution of their strategies. Sport psychologists have studied Rafael Nadal as an exemplary athlete in terms of managing his emotions on court. For instance, Montse Ruiz, Laura Bortoli, and Claudio Robazza deploy Nadal’s performance in the 2019 French Open final as the case study to introduce their “Multi-States (MuSt) Theory for Emotion- and Action-regulation in sports,” which intends “to describe and understand idiosyncratic performance experiences, predict performance, and identify the most effective emotion- and action-centred self-regulation strategies” (3). After losing the second set in that final with a flurry of unforced errors uncharacteristic of his playing style, Nadal left the court to regroup and came back with clean clothes and wet hair—suggesting that he might have taken a quick shower in the locker room. He won the next sixteen out of seventeen points they played to begin the third set and completed his victory over Dominic Thiem (his 12th title in Paris) with 6-1 and 6-1 in the third and fourth sets. It is apparent that “what happened during that break was a turning point for Rafael Nadal who re-entered the court with renewed energy” (Ruiz, Bortoli, and Robazza 3), and was able to regulate his emotions and thrive, as he has done countless times during his career, in response to a stressful performance scenario.

The emotional torrent at the Laver Cup was not the first time Federer and Nadal showed vulnerability on a tennis court by bursting into tears. The image of Federer weeping profusely after being defeated by his friendly rival Nadal in the 2008 Wimbledon and the 2009 Australian Open finals shocked the tennis world. Federer, so often thought of as a flawless performer and a near-immortal player, was human. Nadal has let out his fair share of tears after victories that were particularly meaningful to him—such as in his first French Open title in 2005, and in his victory in the 2010 Montecarlo Master Series event after one of his remarkable comebacks from a serious injury—but on both occasions he buried his face inside a towel to hide his emotions from the fans. The exception to this pattern came after his victory in the 2019 US Open, when the event organizers screened a video with highlights of Nadal’s illustrious career, and he could not hide underneath a towel to weep. Although in this case Nadal did not really have a choice, it does denote an evolution in his “sentimental education”: borrowing from the literary world (Gustave Flaubert’s nineteenth century novel), this refers to the capacity to discharge emotions properly as a sign of maturity. It leads the athlete to be less “agitated and therefore be less prone to negatively violent outbursts” (Tuncel 8, 23). Over the years, Nadal has proved to be a virtuoso in turning negative feelings and impulses into positive, uplifting practices.

One evident strategy of self-regulation of emotions that he uses is his well-known routines. For instance, he always takes a cold shower about forty-five minutes before every competitive match, and during matches he lines up two bottles of water symmetrically in a straight line in front of his chair and sips from each bottle in every change of end. He also has an elaborate ritual when preparing to serve that involves touching his underwear, his nose, each shoulder, and each ear. Another well-known quirky habit is that he adjusts his walk to avoid stepping on the lines of the court. While some players complain that these are distraction tactics to annoy his rivals (Dickson, Kemp), Nadal does this to keep his concentration and to discharge the emotional surplus from the previous point that could make him lose his focus. It is his way of starting every new point on a clean slate, emotionally speaking, “by bottling up his feelings” (Bliss 94), which improves his chances of defeating rivals. As Nadal himself expressed in his autobiography in collaboration with John Carlin, “the more bottled up they are, the greater the chances of winning” (8). It helps him put his head in order.

It took some time, but Federer also learned to cope with his emotions appropriately. When he was younger, he used to yell on court and break rackets when things were not going his way, casting doubts about his professionalism. Federer “was a terminal hothead, conforming to the well-worn stereotype of a tennis brat” (Wertheim 79). Tennis commentators agree that everything changed after he met his current wife, Miroslava Vavrinec, who shaped the polite and elegant player who ruled the ATP tour for years with his calm presence and dominant performance (Arenas and Plaza 104-105, Fest 131). Despite being masters in emotional self-regulation, both Nadal and Federer offered in the 2022 Laver Cup a rare image in elite men’s sports: willingness to show vulnerability and cry (Nadal even admitted afterwards to the press that crying is a good strategy to release emotions: “Soy una persona bastante sensible y a veces es bueno llorar” [Ciriza 85]), and what is more, expressing physical intimacy in public. Historian Michael Quinn contends that physical distancing between men became the hallmark of professional sports especially since the 1950s, for sports traded in the reaffirmation of an idealized form of masculinity in which any type of physical intimacy among men would be coded as feminine and gay—by virtue of a problematic conflation of gender and sexuality—and, therefore, rejected. Although Quinn made this statement referring to the specific context of American society, his point is no less valid in other settings in which “homotactility,” same-sex physical contact, in sports was also off-limits (84-96). Men’s sports have been a fertile preserve for “homohysteria,” which Eric Anderson and Mark McCormack define as “the fear of being socially perceived as gay” (498), a setting in which homophobia can thrive to the extent of utterly controlling men’s behaviors.

The intense moment of emotional intimacy between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal was described by Federer, in an interview with the New York Times, as “a secret thank you” to Nadal (Clarey). After all, his longtime rival had made the effort to be there and play doubles with him in Federer’s last professional tennis match despite the delicate health situation his wife was going through due to complications with her pregnancy. Federer grabbed Nadal’s hand while Ellie Goulding was performing the love song “Still Falling for You,” which added an extra subtext to the symbolic display of what was popularized as a “bromance.” Since Federer and Nadal joined forces on the court as a doubles team in the inaugural Laver Cup in 2017, global media and fans have presented their friendship as a form of bromance with its own portmanteau, the “Fedal.” The catalyst of the bromance discourse was also another iconic photograph. After Federer won the decisive point of the competition against Nick Kyrgios, Nadal ran in excitement to give his teammate a big hug, and the photo went instantly viral. Media quickly grasped that having the two archrivals melted in an emotive and spontaneous hug opened a communications gold mine. The “Fedal” fever had begun. The team format of the Laver Cup, which pits Europe against the rest of the world, and the relaxed, exhibition nature of the competition, is a context that provides more opportunities for homosocial bonding and bromantic development among teammates than one would find in a regular tennis tournament where these stars usually play individually.

The term “bromance” became popular in the mid-2000s to account for the upsurge in on-screen romances among male friends in cinema and television. As the label indicates, these relationships encapsulate features from two types of bonds among heterosexual men: “the loyalty, kinship, and trust found in a brother (companionate love); and the excitement, infatuation, and intimacy found in romantic relationships” (Scoats and Robinson 385). While adopted widely in popular culture, academic research into the bromance phenomenon has been negligible, mostly reduced to the context of media and celebrity culture and focused on underlining the shifting nature of male friendships in cinema and television as well as on defining the main features of what Michael DeAngelis refers to as a “bromance genre” in cinema (17). Recently, a few masculinity scholars have expanded the research on bromance to the area of sports and have noticed that men “are engaging in more affectionate, emotional, and physical relationships with their same-sex friends” (Robinson and Anderson 10), even though these studies have focused only on college team sports, not on professional individual sports.

Notably, this growing research on bromance has drawn from Eric Anderson’s concept of “inclusive masculinities.” Anderson first coined it in 2009 in his Inclusive Masculinity Theory (IMT) and has subsequently elaborated the concept in collaboration with other scholars to refer to a plurality of masculinity types that can now be present in multiple countries where homophobia has decreased. Although Anderson did not provide a specific definition of inclusive masculinities, the overarching principle is that inclusive masculinities can only emerge in cultures where there is low hostility toward homosexuality and where homophobia, and not homosexuality, carries a negative stigma (Anderson 8). Exploring the importance of homophobia to the construction and supervision of masculinities, Anderson and Mark McCormack argue that “in the absence of homophobia, men’s gender came to be founded upon emotional openness, increased peer tactility, softening gender codes and close friendship based on emotional disclosure” (547). Furthermore, in these contexts, even if heterosexism and/or homophobia endures (Anderson 97), heterosexual men are more willing to show weaknesses, vulnerabilities, express fear, cry, and engage in activities that were once coded as feminine or gay in homohysteric contexts.

Homohysteria is a key notion to understand when and where inclusive masculinities can flourish, for homophobia only controls men’s behaviors in contexts that are prominently homohysteric. According to the IMT, “in homohysteric cultures, men’s behaviours are severely restricted, and archetypes of masculinity are stratified, hierarchically, with one hegemonic form of masculinity being culturally exalted” (Anderson and McCormack 548). This is what happened in the scenario described by Raewyn Connell for the context of the 1980s and early 1990s, where she observed a hegemonic form of masculinity as an idealized type that imposed stratifications of accepted masculinity roles and was predicated upon homophobia and rejection of the feminine. Connell proposed that these lightly defined categories of masculinity, which comprised a ladder of actual men from the most privileged to the most marginalized groups, formed a structurally organized mechanism that reproduced patriarchy (77). Hegemonic masculinity has been the dominant framework to explain the complexities connected with masculinity and gender relations in sport contexts. As a “crucial site for the reproduction of patriarchal structures and values” that celebrates “the physically aggressive and often violent deeds of men,” sport has been a fundamental component of “self-sustaining forms of exclusivist male culture, lubricating a closed system of male bonding and female denigration” (Rowe 246). The use of this theoretical framework led to a representation of sport as a cultural site in which the hegemonic power structures of modern capitalist societies were persistently reinforced.

One is tempted to follow in the steps of hegemonic masculinity theorists to examine gender roles in tennis. After all, men’s tennis has been a quintessential domain of upper- and middle-class, white, heterosexual men and, therefore, one could expect that everything surrounding it would provide ideological backing for the same group. However, I concur with Richard Pringle that the hegemonic masculinity framework furnishes a view of sports cultures that is too unitary and, therefore, does not “accommodate ambiguities and contradictions of lived sporting experiences” (264). If sports are dominated by such monolithic power structures, is there any room for transformation? My argument throughout this essay is that the iconic photo of the “Fedal” in the 2022 Laver Cup is a media text that demonstrates that such a transformation is not only possible but already a reality, and exploring it seems indispensable for a more fertile articulation of the relations between masculinity and sport. It illustrates the diversification of accepted forms of masculinity within cultures with an apparent decrease in homohysteria. This inclusive paradigm allows us to examine the escalating emotionality and closeness between men, as well as the friendly co-existence of multiple masculinities (Ralph and Roberts 32).

The inclusive masculinities paradigm is suitable for my case study because it was conceptualized to make room for a plurality of masculinities, thus avoiding simplifying generalizations. Also, this framework emphasizes that “the concept of ‘inclusive’ masculinities does not mean that men are inclusive of everything. They might still be racists; they might still be sexist; they might still be classist” (Robinson and Anderson 51). This clarification is particularly relevant for the context of tennis, which is a sport often identified with elite groups in terms of class and race, and still fraught with gender asymmetries.² In fact, absence of class analysis in Anderson’s initial formulation was one of the early critiques of this theory (Ingram and Waller), which was later corrected. Some scholars also took issue with the formulation that homophobia has declined in contemporary societies and considered it a dangerously misleading proposition (de Boise 331). My own quibble with this framework has to do with the exclusive focus of the research that supports the theory on young masculinities. Anderson conceptualized the IMT to understand the shifting correlation between adolescent males and their masculinities. Subsequent research on bromance in sport contexts relying on the findings of IMT also centered on young college students (Robinson and Anderson). As inclusive as this paradigm of changing masculinities is, it has largely overlooked the dimension of age. The upshot of this exclusive focus is that shifting patterns of masculinity seem to be limited to young males, while aging males are assumed to belong into a different bracket of masculinity apparently devoid of the possibility of inclusivity.

My case study calls for a cross-reading of inclusive masculinities with perspectives from aging studies. First, age was central to the moment captured by Ella Ling’s photo because the celebration represented the end of a golden era. Federer’s retirement from professional tennis meant that the sport was losing its biggest icon at age 41—a feat for anyone in men’s tennis to be still competing at the highest level at that age. Furthermore, it was the end of the Big Three rivalry, the competition between Federer, Nadal, and Novak Djokovic to determine who the G.O.A.T. (Greatest of All Time) of tennis is. This fierce yet always respectful rivalry has elevated the media profile of the sport and has attracted sponsors and millions of fans worldwide. A major hook of media attention has always been the exemplary conduct of Federer and Nadal (Djokovic has had a more tense relationship with global audiences by inciting many controversies with his views on COVID vaccines and other idiosyncratic conducts), on and off the court. They were not only idolized for their tennis aptitudes and their triumphs, but also for the human values they both embraced, their fair play, and their philanthropic work on behalf of marginalized populations.³ Compare this with the infamous images of bravado of younger tennis stars such as Nick Kyrgios, Alexander Zverev, Alexander Shapovalov, and Holger Rune, who are known for smashing rackets on the court after outbursts, using abusive language toward chair umpires and even hitting umpire’s chairs with brutal violence. They leave some tournaments having to pay more money in fines for unsportsmanlike conduct than they earned with their tennis performance.

Even more, they have frequently made the headlines for making petulant comments and trash-talking other players on tour. This includes belittling their older and much more accomplished colleagues. On spring 2022, Alexander Zverev described Nadal as an old car that stops every few miles, suggesting that he could no longer sustain the physicality required to win the biggest titles. Ironically enough, the two of them met in a dramatic semifinal of the French Open in June 2022, and it was Zverev’s young body, not Nadal’s, that failed him and forced him to retire from the match with an injury. Zverev backed up that kind of ageist comment when he predicted, without any evidence, in an interview with Eurosport in January 2023, that “Rafael Nadal will, unfortunately, retire at Roland-Garros” (Pledger). But make no mistake. Zverev’s tactless comments about Nadal were not isolated incidents by one of the most prominent brats of the game. Speculation about Nadal’s retirement has been common currency across media outlets in the last few years in view of the sheer number of serious injuries that the Mallorcan player has had to handle. From being “the king of muscles for years on the circuit” (Fest 173), Nadal became the poster boy of narratives of physical fragility. Conjectures have especially escalated after Federer’s retirement, to the point of irritating Nadal, who usually has a serene attitude toward the issue of stepping down from professional tennis. After losing to Cameron Norrie at the United Cup in early January 2023, Nadal responded visibly bothered: “Every time I come to a press conference it seems that I have to retire” (Pledger). Nadal is facing the sports version of what Margaret Morganroth Gullette calls “premature superannuation,” the process by which middle-aged workers are dispatched from their jobs, increasingly at a younger age, and then are incapable of finding another job (Aged by Culture 30). That is, they are virtually forced into early retirement.

Nadal’s frustration with the insistence on talking about his retirement comes from the perception that he is addressed as a being-who-ages, rather than according to his athletic skills. In media discourses aging equals decline, a devastating equation that works as “an ideology that distorts visual culture” (28). From a social constructionist perspective, Gullette argues that whatever happens to our bodies, we are, first and foremost, aged by culture (Declining 3). Bodies do become frail as they age, but cultural ageism cracks down on “the undervaluing of aging men’s lives through taken for granted representations and narratives” (Jackson 8). The aging body is a socially constructed phenomenon at the mercy of decline narratives that, unfortunately, are pervasive in our society (Gullette, Agewise 7), to the extent that they have become the default content of any discourse on age. To talk about age is to talk about declining bodies. Traditionally, this social construction was also highly gendered, as the aging discourses seemed to only affect women, and the literature on masculinity largely omitted older men (Arber, Davidson and Ginn 4). Although one could argue that certain gendered asymmetries persist, with the escalating attention to the gendered dimensions of aging, men are losing “their immunity as a group” and, thus, are also subjected to the master narrative of aging (Gullette, Declining 8). Yet, it is imperative to recognize that age is also affected by “institutional practices and social structures of segregation and exclusion” (Jackson 9), as it “is supported by institutions and dollar signs” (Gullette, Aged 28). That is, age is more than a social construct.

The tennis world comfortably lines up with these cultural discourses and institutional structures. Tennis media is fond of premature superannuation and decline narratives that are structured around age cohorts with catchy names manufactured for marketing purposes. The era of the “Big Three” (formerly “Big Four” until Andy Murray was demoted from the elite group when his body accelerated his “decline”) has been pitted against the over-hyped (and under-performing) “Next Gen” tennis players. Take the Netflix series Break Point, released on 13 January 2023 with the promise of offering a behind-the-scenes look into the lives of top tennis players during the 2022 season. In effect, it is more a portrait of the ups and downs of the Next Gen players and their girlfriends—some part of the tennis world, like Ajla Tomljanovic, most of them featuring as mere trophy girlfriends who know nothing about the sport. Each episode focuses on one or two players, beginning with the opening episode devoted to Nick Kyrgios, hands down the most mercurial and controversial player on tour, and his influencer girlfriend. Subsequent episodes offer views on Matteo Berrettini, Taylor Fritz, Félix Auger-Aliassime, and Casper Ruud. The marketing strategy behind the selection is evident: selling the alleged appeal of youth, even if some of these players are terrible examples of behavior on and off the court for future generations.

This Netflix series suits a broader blueprint in contemporary visual cultures. Discussing the potential of age studies as a useful theoretical framework for film studies, Barbara Zecchi, Raquel Medina, Cristina Moreiras, and Pilar Rodríguez argue that film functions, similarly to what Teresa de Lauretis claimed in relation to gender, as a technology of age, a significant medium to reinforce the hegemony of the young gaze. In mainstream cinema, aging appears with negative connotations, typically associated with decline narratives that shore up the heteropatriarchal order, if given any visibility at all (23). It is apparent that other media forms, in this case a documentary series, also operate as technologies of age, thus proving that “decline culture is insidiously promoted” by “new regimes of decline” (Gullette, Agewise 5, 15). They are omnipresent and rather influential. However, just like Zecchi et al pose that there are cinematic practices that challenge the decline narrative and its corresponding visual style by offering affirmative imaginaries with meanings that embrace the complexity of the experience of aging (28), the iconic hand-holding photo of the “Fedal” tells us a counteracting story to existing stereotypical notions of aging men seen as inevitably tied to bodily fragility and physical decay.

With this assessment, I am presuming that this photograph constitutes a valuable source of information about complex cultural processes. John Ibson maintains that photographs have been conventionally used by historians to exemplify a written narrative, but not necessarily “as a cultural artifact with a history of its own,” not as the primary object of inquiry (11). In his landmark study on photography and the evolution of male friendships in the United States, Ibson shows that photographs can be analyzed “not only as a manifestation of particular cultural beliefs and practices but also as a shaper of those beliefs and practices as well” (11). Following Ibson, I claim that the “Fedal” photo is both an index and an agent in evolving notions of masculinity. This iconic photograph does not merely reflect forms of masculinities that existed prior to it but actively contributes to those developing types.

While aging men are routinely depicted in film, media, and popular culture in a stay of decay, this photo renders the complexity of their lived experiences by presenting two aging male celebrities as social beings who evolve. David Jackson notes that aging men construct their changing masculine identities “through social practices, narratives and discursive regimes” (10). Ella Ling’s photo is a cogent media text that denotes how Federer’s and Nadal’s masculine identities have transformed through the course of their lives. That is, it is already part and parcel of the discourses that have enacted their growth as aging men. In Federer’s case, it exemplifies his drastic conversion from spoiled brat to groomed metrosexual who is deemed a model of masculinity in terms of his elegant style on and off the court—molded, as Federer has admitted, by his close friend Anna Wintour (Fest 115-16), editor-in-chief of Vogue and arguably the most influential person in the fashion industry—exquisite public behavior, and commitment to social causes. For Nadal, it epitomizes the process by which the Mallorcan player has softened the image of “piratical brute” (Brown), “whoomphing brutality” and “hypermuscular hypermasculinity” (Wertheim 4) with which media sources pigeonholed him during most of this career.

Let us elaborate on this. When Nadal first emerged on tour, brands immediately jumped into the commercial potential of his appearance to sell a new image of masculinity. His muscular body constituted a departure from the most common physique of tennis players at that time. The sleeveless shirts that he wore until the end of the 2008 season—his signature stylistic element along with the capri pants—enhanced the aura of corporeal prowess that accompanied his playing style by calling attention to his well-developed arms. Nadal became the center of all kinds of comparisons with a variety of historical, fictional, and mythological figures associated with strength and a warrior mentality, such as Hercules (Wertheim 4), Apache leader Geronimo (Marín 31), El Cid Campeador (Cubeiro and Gallardo 32) and Superman (Bliss 6). To be fair, that image was not only manufactured by the media to generate lucrative headlines but also deployed by Nadal’s own camp. He was soon baptized with the nickname “raging bull” because he grinds “opponents into submission with a combination of power, speed and raw muscle” (Bliss 6). His celebrity brand fed off this taurine virility and imagery of aggression, including the logo that appears in all his tennis apparel and merchandise available for purchase (t-shirts, shorts, hats, sneakers): two symmetrical bull horns and thunderclaps that allude to his playing style.

This taurine imagery helped Nadal become a national celebrity—he has always voiced that he feels “proudly Spanish” in “a country where a lot of people are ambiguous about their national identity” (Nadal and Carlin 92)—with a global projection associated with a traditional form, certainly the most stereotypical one of Iberian masculinity. Nadal seemed content with embodying—and cashing in on—a refurbished version of the myth of “Iberian bravado and passion” that was presented as the ideal contrast to Federer’s equally manufactured image of polished metrosexual (Wertheim 4). He even participated in high-flying promotional events that further shaped the image—in a more global version, the “Latin masculinity”—with which commercial brands propelled his celebrity profile. Apart from the spicy campaigns of underwear collections for Emporio Armani in 2011 and for Tommy Hilfiger in 2015-2016—which included a commercial ad in which Nadal literally strips off for the audience, the most prominent publicity performance was his acting role as the “Latin lover” of Colombian superstar Shakira for the video of her song “Gypsy” in 2010. The video features a shirtless, sweaty, and hunky Nadal, who is allured by the private dance of the “gypsy” Shakira. While lying on the ground, the two lovers hold hands, rub noses and, finally, kiss.

While these advertising endorsements and promotional events boosted his celebrity profile, one may argue that they also underscored the image of retrograde masculinity that was associated with his brand. Nadal contributed to that image with his sometimes nonpolitically correct public statements and involvement in media controversies regarding gender issues. Two of them stood out. In fall 2014, the Spanish tennis federation appointed former professional player Gala León as the captain of the Davis Cup team, the first woman to hold such a position. León’s choice caused an uproar among the top Spanish male players, who did not understand the decision to appoint a woman who was supposedly not familiar with the men’s professional tour. Nadal’s position on this matter led to accusations of male chauvinism against his persona (Machuca). These accusations were somewhat unfair, because it was his uncle and then coach Toni Nadal, and not Rafael Nadal himself, who most candidly expressed regressive opinions on this matter by claiming that having a female captain would cause discomfort for players in the male locker room (Fest 89, Martínez 167). Nadal’s closeness to his family, the self-proclaimed bedrock of his success as a tennis player (Nadal and Carlin 15), has taken its toll on his celebrity image. Besides his uncle’s notorious public comments, the gendered scenography of his player box has not gone unnoticed. All the men of his team (coach, physical trainers, agent, father, uncles) sit on the front row, the closest one to the court, while female members of the clan (mother, sister, wife and, occasionally, other family members) always sit on a separate row in the back (Fest 79, Martínez 140). The patriarchal disposition of the tribe extends to other arenas: the patriarch, Sebastián Nadal, Nadal’s father, runs the family business and closes the major deals for the brand, while Nadal’s mother and wife administer his secondary philanthropic efforts, the Rafael Nadal Foundation.

These apparent rigid gender roles in the family dynamic have influenced the image of bigotry and provincialism surrounding Rafael Nadal. Yet, Nadal has also played his own role in it. In spring 2019, when asked by journalists in a conference press before his debut in the Madrid Master 1000 tournament about the thorny issue of the gender inequity in prize money in professional tennis, Nadal bluntly expressed that tennis players should be paid based on their tennis skills, not on their gender (La Razón). He further argued that he did not regard the gender gap as unfair because women do not generate as much revenue for the sport, nor do they play five sets in Grand Slam matches. To each according to their ability, Nadal seemed to articulate in a reversal of the popular Marxist slogan. Predictably, he faced an instantaneous political backlash for these comments.

Throughout his career, these backward views about gender equality were a blemish in an otherwise perfectly clean image. As the ever-expanding hagiographic literature about his career has highlighted, Nadal has sustained a discreet and linear public profile, faithful to his origins, to his values, and to his close family and friends. The constancy, coherence, and endurance of his core values is one of the pillars of his celebrity brand. Nadal shows no interest in boasting about a celebrity lifestyle, and no diva-like behavior during professional tournaments has ever been recorded. Moreover, he has often been credited with embodying positive social values such as humility, respect, determination, perseverance, effort, sacrifice, and resilience (Arenas and Plaza 104; Bliss 39; Ciriza 25, 188; Cubeiro and Gallardo 87, 132-134; Martínez 109-115; Wertheim 117). His youthful image of brutal masculinity gradually vanished to give way to the admired figure of a mature athlete who is regarded as a social leader inspiring several generations of players and human beings more broadly (Ciriza 189-190). Nadal has also scored extra points toward being integrated in the inclusive masculinities camp by openly admitting weaknesses and vulnerabilities. He has no qualms speaking about his fear of darkness—he sleeps with the light on, of thunderstorms, helicopters, fast cars, and motorcycles (Nadal and Carlin 22-23). As Dominic Bliss states, Nadal shows “the dual personality of Clark Kent and Superman,” the mere mortal hero and the little boy (100). In 2015, when his tennis results plummeted, Nadal confessed that he struggled with mental health issues throughout the entire season, a severe form of anxiety that affected his breathing patterns and, therefore, the timing of his shots (Arenas and Plaza 134). This is a rare and judicious admittance of susceptibility by a top athlete who is venerated for being an almost invincible champion. No news of swaggering bravado whatsoever.

Nadal put the icing on the cake in November 2022 by surprising audiences with his LGBTQ-friendly comments rejecting homophobia. While on an exhibition tour with his Norwegian protégé Casper Ruud in South America, Nadal was asked about the controversy over FIFA’s prohibition on political displays during the 2022 World Cup in Qatar. FIFA determined that any player wearing armbands that showed support for the LGBTQ community during the competition would be suspended. Even more, fans with rainbow-colored attire would be denied entry to the stadiums. Given Nadal’s record of public statements regarding gender issues, some might have expected a juicy headline to fuel yet another polemic. Instead, he delivered a sensible reply: “We are in a global world in which people must have more and more rights. Everyone must have the freedom to express the feelings they have, as long as they do not harm others” (As).⁴ This was a classy answer supporting freedom of speech and respect for differences. It seems apparent that with age, Nadal has enacted a softer form of masculinity without the fear of being negatively perceived or stigmatized. By the way he plays out his masculine identity and homosocial relationships, Nadal nowadays embodies the diversification and multiplication of forms of masculinity in contemporary societies.

In particular, the hand-holding photo with Federer has become an instantaneously iconic image of inclusive masculinities as described by Anderson and McCormack. It encapsulates positive values such as enduring friendship despite professional rivalry, true sportsmanship, and healthy bromance that could inspire other men (“will do a lot of good for society,” as photographer Ella Ling noted) by offering a path forward in which it is fine to show vulnerability and to be emotionally expressive and physically tactile with male friends and colleagues. This photo not only challenges obsolete norms around masculine behavior influenced by homohysteria but also the way young athletes are socialized into sport, which often privileges behaviors associated with hypermasculinity, dominance, and aggression. The hand-holding photo is a positive visual model of inclusive and aging masculinities, and, for that reason, age cannot be taken out of the equation. This is what French theorist Roland Barthes would call the photograph’s “studium”: the social and cultural meanings that could be extracted by carrying out a rigorous semiotic analysis of a photograph within its historical matrix. But I would like us to go one step further. Barthes argued that journalistic photographs “are very often unary,” by which he meant that these images lacked the “punctum,” a kind of “accident which pricks” by generating an intensely subjective effect on the viewer (27). He admitted the possibility of “a certain shock—the literal can traumatize—but no disturbance; the photograph can ‘shout,’ not wound” (41). The intense reactions to Ella Ling’s photo demonstrate that an update of Barthes’s ideas is in order. The photograph did generate meanings that were unique to the response of individual viewers contemplating the image (most of them positive, but also some negative, as I pointed out at the beginning of the essay). And while the photograph conveys meanings that invoke recognizable symbolic systems in our culture (representational codes of aging and masculinity), it goes beyond mere reflection: it helps to redefine those very codes by offering a corrective act to narratives of decline and hackneyed images of hegemonic masculinity in sports culture. Gullette argued that decline could be fought not only legally, politically, and ethically but also imaginatively, “through the illuminations of our best and longest-lasting stories” (Agewise 223). The hand-holding photo of the “Fedal” delivers that precisely, a compelling story about evolving forms of masculinity that are more inclusive and do not corner aging men, in this case two media celebrities, to decline narratives.

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by Peter T. Flawn Centennial Professorship.

Notes

1 “Toxic masculinity” is gaining traction both in popular and academic discourse to refer to misogynist and homophobic attitudes and speech by men. It has become particularly widespread in media stories related to the #MeToo movement. However, Carol Harrington notes that most scholars “who use the concept frequently fail to define it or integrate it within broader theorization of masculinity.” In her view, feminist thinkers should avoid this concept because it reduces the issue of sexism to the character traits of specific men, thus individualizing what should be faced as a structural problem (346).

2 Women’s professional tennis has come a long way in their struggle to achieve equal prize money in Grand Slams and getting prime time spots in tournaments. But they still face continuing problems with double standards—i.e., when they show emotions on court they are criticized and penalized much more than their male colleagues—and with prejudices over their athletic abilities (Laxton).

3 Both have channeled their philanthropic efforts through their respective foundations. The Roger Federer Foundation was created in 2003 to support educational projects for children. 2.4 million children from six South African countries plus Switzerland have benefited from the initiatives implemented by the foundation in collaboration with local associations. The Fundación Rafael Nadal was created in 2010 with the belief in the transformative potential of sports and education to make a difference among marginalized populations. The foundation partners with other organizations to implement programs in India and Spain designed to offer more inclusive access to education for socially disadvantaged communities.

4 The original quote was: ““Estamos en mundo global en el que la gente debe tener cada vez más derechos. Cada cual debe tener la libertad de expresar los sentimientos que tenga, siempre que no dañen a los demás.”