The crowd could only mourn as King of Clay Rafael Nadal's Paris swansong became a sad last dance, writes OLIVER HOLT
They streamed out of the metro station at Porte d'Auteuil, past the battalions of police cars, down the tree-lined avenue, past the Jardin des Serres and into the grounds of Roland Garros to see the king in his kingdom one last time. With its four-year cycle, it is inevitable that much of the narrative that surrounds each edition of the Olympics will concern farewells, but at these Paris Games there is nowhere that the sadness of the last dance has hit quite like it has here in the tennis.
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