THE greatest surprise about the restoration of the King of Clay is that anybody is surprised.

Yet when Rafael Nadal limped off into self-imposed exile after Wimbledon last year there were solid grounds for concluding that one had seen the best of the Mallorcan, that the relentless, unforgiving pivots and lunges on hard court and grass had finally robbed him of his energy, his almost limitless ability to endure and then to triumph.

However, Nadal has arrived at the French Open yet again in his accustomed role of both holder of the title and favourite to add to his seven championships at Roland Garros.

It was not supposed to be that way this year. Nadal's knee surgery was seen as a prelude to decline, even fall. Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic fought out the first Grand Slam of 2013 in Australia and were billed as the co-stars of this season, with Roger Federer posing a reduced, but viable threat to everyone's ambitions.

Instead, Murray sits at home nursing a bad back, Djokovic frets over a turned ankle and Federer seems reduced by pain, particularly to his back. Nadal, in contrast, bounces into Paris having won six titles on his return from injury.

This record is an unnecessary testimony to Nadal's instinctive capacity to take on adversity and beat it over the head repeatedly with a tennis racket. At 26, he can look back on 11 Grand Slam victories, an Olympic gold medal, more than $53 million in prize money and a record on clay that makes him the best ever to walk on to the surface.

Yet it is how he looks forward that is the crucial component in his recovery, whether that be from injury or a service break.

Nadal suffers from chronic tendinitis. This can be managed but will not be cured and he has signed up willingly for another episode of pain in Paris, though the clay surface is less demanding on his joints.

However, the Spaniard will not focus on discomfort, instead he will be driven by a desire to succeed that owes everything to his upbringing and to his mental strength.

He is a curious individual. Brave in the face of adversity on court and defiant when confronting pain off it, he is afraid of the dark, worries interminably about the health of those nearest to him and winces when thunder breaks. His routine with water bottles on court, his strict adherence to a set of what can only be called rituals before he plays, all suggest that Nadal is in thrall to obsession.

Yet this amalgam of neurosis is feared as not only the most obdurate competitor but as the player most likely to prevail in the "big points".

Nadal is the product of a wealthy middle-class family but he is also the construct of his uncle Toni, a warrior philosopher, who pushed his nephew to the limits and beyond.

"There is this Spartan quality to the manner in which Toni raised this kid," John Carlin, who ghosted Rafa's biography, once told me. "But he raised him in this manner because he judged Rafa could take it. He told me there were other kids he coached who could not take it, so he did not treat them that way. He believed Rafa had a special mettle."

He needed it. When Rafa fell and cracked his head, Toni refused to sympathise. When Rafa had moments of weakness, he was derided as a "mummy's boy". This focus by Toni has never weakened and it has galvanised his nephew.

"When Toni arrives before the big tournaments, the atmosphere in Rafa's camp changes," said Carlin. "It becomes more taut. It is fascinating the impact he makes on Rafa and the people around him. Rafa knows it is now serious. Deadly serious."

Nadal, a humble and well-mannered young man off court, thus turns into a beast on it. This is the sort of transformation that all the greats make when confronted by what they perceive as a threat. The danger to Nadal is that he might lose, that he might be shown to be weak and imperfect in front of family, friends and, of course, Toni.

He makes extraordinary demands on both his body and his mentality to prevail, to drive away this fear. It may seem absurd now but Nadal arrived at Roland Garros in 2005 "with a doubt in my mind over whether I would be able to breathe at such a high competitive altitude". He has lost one match there since and that was when his knees were creaking against Robin Soderling.

To watch Nadal as he prowls, darts and grunts his way around the Philippe Chatrier stadium is to be in the pit with an animalistic force that offers no mercy to himself and to his opponent. Nadal gives everything, wants only one thing: victory. He is best witnessed in the flesh but statistics, for once, paint a wonderful picture of his greatness. In eight appearances at Roland Garros, he has compiled 52 wins to one loss, dropped 14 sets, been extended to five sets just once and won the title twice without the loss of the set.

This record has been compiled in an era where the men's game has an extraordinary depth and its height is marked by Federer and Djokovic who have persuasive claims to be among the very greatest to have played the game.

Yet Nadal flexes his aching knees, pulls at those perennially tight shorts and crouches to accept the best and worse that can be thrown at him.

The draw for this year's tournament means his path to the final is scheduled to include a collision with Djokovic. There will be many, including this correspondent, who believe the Serb may just prevail for the first time at Roland Garros this year.

There will be no surprise, though, if the world No 1 is ground into the dirt. The King of Clay is back. He has no plans to abdicate just yet.