“I play each point as if my life depends upon it.”

THERE is little Rafael Nadal says or does that Jamie Baker disagrees with, but after playing an horrific game of chance with death itself at just 21, he was forced to question the wisdom of the Spaniard’s quotation, stuck to a gymnasium door as a motivational tool.

The Scot is well-qualified to analyse Nadal’s remarks. “I’m fortunate to be alive and it’s no exaggeration to say that,” admits Baker, speaking for the first time since being led to believe he was suffering from leukaemia, only to be diagnosed with idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura (ITP). This rare blood condition affects the immune system and means even the most basic of accidents, such as a bump on the head, could be fatal. “Without knowing it, for about eight days I was on the verge of suffering something as bad as it could have got,” he adds.

Baker has been given no guarantees as to his future health or a return to the sport that has been his life since childhood. He has been told by doctors that competitive tennis is off-limits. “Knowing what I know now, just the ability to be on court involved in a tennis match, to have the ups and downs with all the adrenaline, is a complete and utter privilege,” he says. “If and when I get back to playing, that knowledge will help me a huge amount.”

Baker is credited by British Davis Cup captain John Lloyd with having the perfect attitude and work ethic to make inroads into the game. Two months ago he became the first visiting player to win a rubber in the competition’s World Group on Argentine soil this century. Earlier this year he doubled Scottish participation in the main draw of the Australian Open by winning through the qualifying rounds. From the acclaim of Buenos Aires, Baker returned to the task of improving his ranking and won back-to-back third-tier Futures tournaments in Texas.

Then it was on to Mexico for a Challenger event in Leon, high in the Sierra Madre mountains. That is where his problems began. Baker is reluctant to describe his symptoms in graphic detail, saying it would make unpleasant reading, but after being hit by a ball on the arm, he developed a huge bruise. Various lumps the size of golf balls appeared around his body, large rashes occurred, his nose bled repeatedly and eventually so did his gums.

In Florida he checked into a Tampa hospital on the advice of an opponent whose mother is a cancer nurse. “I knew something must be wrong, but I can’t say I felt horrendously ill and didn’t have any idea of the extent of the problem,” says Baker. “I am so fortunate – I flew from Mexico to Tampa, and even the pressure exerted on the ears and head in an aeroplane could have been fatal.”

Eventually the problem was diagnosed. Blood tests showed that he was suffering from a “catastrophic” low-level platelet count that could have resulted in a potentially fatal internal haemorrhage. He spent nearly a week in intensive care.

“It’s incredibly scary to think that if I had bumped my head on a light on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night; if I had tripped over something; if somebody had hit a smash that struck me on the head while I was practising or playing doubles; if I was diving into a swimming pool and got the trajectory wrong – so many things could have happened and I would not be here now to talk about it.”

ITP affects 33 people in a million. Two-thirds of known cases occur in females. However, the life of an emergent tennis player, pushing the body to intense levels of physical exertion on a daily basis and flying the world in less-than-comfortable conditions at the back of the plane increases the risk. Baker was put on steroids and a month on is still not allowed to let his heart rate get above 140, which means he can do nothing more strenuous than walk, ride an exercise bike or take part in the most tame six-stroke rally. He could curse his luck, given that he had done so well just weeks previously, but he takes the opposite view.

“Tennis has become almost an irrelevant conversation,” he says. “I don’t look at it as something that’s cruel. I view myself as extremely lucky to be alive.

“Now I have a new perspective on life, I have really got a sense of what is important. Success was always the goal for me, but now I see a bigger picture.

Compared to nearly dying, winning or losing a tennis match doesn’t really matter. That doesn’t mean I won’t be giving everything if I get back, but that extra pressure and baggage I put on myself seems so unnecessary.”

His ambition is not diminished: Baker still yearns to join fellow Scot Andy Murray in the game’s elite. He is appalled by the dearth of top British performers and is angered when he hears players from other countries pontificating about the Lawn Tennis Association having a pristine £40m National Training Centre, an annual income of more than £25m from Wimbledon alone and just one singles player in the world’s top 200.

“I am capable of doing something about bridging the gap,” says Baker, who is now ranked 241 in the world and clearly cannot expect to improve on that in the near future.

“I have the ability to take the bull by the horns and do something just like I did in Argentina. I hate it when I look at Andy and see how far away the next player is. I spend a lot of my time thinking about it.”