There’s a moment before every Rafael Nadal serve that fans know by heart. The towels. The footsteps. And then the bottles—placed carefully at his feet, one slightly behind the other, angled just so, facing the court. To some, it looks obsessive. To others, superstitious. But Nadal himself explained it best when he said it isn’t superstition at all. It’s order.
What struck me about that explanation isn’t the bottles. It’s the honesty behind it. If it were superstition, he says, he’d only do it when he’s winning. But he does it whether he’s ahead or behind, confident or struggling. Because the act isn’t about controlling the outcome. It’s about controlling the inner space he steps into before the point begins.
That’s such a subtle but powerful distinction.
We often confuse rituals with magical thinking. We assume they’re about luck, fear, or trying to bend fate in our favor. But the best rituals aren’t about the future. They’re about the present. They’re about alignment. Nadal isn’t trying to convince the universe to let him win a point. He’s bringing his surroundings into harmony with the clarity he wants in his mind.
In a world that constantly pulls at our attention, that kind of intentional order feels almost radical.
Think about it. Most of us don’t walk onto a tennis court with 15,000 people watching, but we all step into moments that demand focus—important meetings, difficult conversations, creative work, decisions that matter. And before those moments, our minds are usually anything but ordered. They’re cluttered with noise, expectations, doubts, and unfinished thoughts.
So we rush in unprepared, hoping things will somehow “work out.”
Nadal doesn’t rush. He pauses. He creates a small island of control in the middle of chaos. Two bottles. Same position. Same orientation. Not because they guarantee success, but because they remind him: this is where I am, this is what I’m doing, and this is how I enter the moment.
There’s something deeply human about that.
We all have our versions of the bottles, even if we don’t call them that. The way you arrange your desk before starting deep work. The playlist you put on before a long drive. The quiet breath you take before speaking up. These aren’t superstitions. They’re signals. They tell your mind it’s time to be present.
What I love most about Nadal’s insight is the idea of “ordering the outside to match the order I seek inside.” That flips the usual narrative. We often wait to feel calm before we act. He acts in a calm way so calm can arrive. The ritual comes first. The mindset follows.
Maybe that’s the real lesson here.
You don’t need grand gestures or dramatic routines. Sometimes all it takes is a small, repeatable act that grounds you. Something you do consistently, regardless of whether things are going your way. Not to control results—but to center yourself.
Because at the end of the day, performance isn’t just about talent or effort. It’s about the state you show up in. And if placing two bottles just right helps one of the greatest athletes of all time find that state, maybe it’s worth asking yourself: what helps you place yourself in the moment?
Not superstition. Just order.
Kenrick Vaz 