Manuel Santana has waited 42 years for this moment and finally, the old maestro believes, he will be able to plonk the baton into a countryman’s hand and watch him hurtle off into history.

Santana is, to universal acknowledgement, the man who transformed the image of Spanish tennis from one that did not want to show its face under the aegis of General Franco, to the expression of humble openness and sincerity that is its vivid 21st-century feature. At Wimbledon, where he made such an identifiable mark by winning the men’s singles title in 1966, he has yearned for someone to pick up that mantle and run with it.

And so it is with Rafael Nadal, the latter-day version of Santana. The two are like grandfather and grandson: when they meet Santana cups Nadal’s cheeks in his hands (he does that to old acquaintances from the British media, too, which is slightly disconcerting) and it is as though they are about to take part in a commercial for Werther’s Original. The adoration is a true two-way street.

When Santana won Wimbledon, Gene Cernan had just completed the second United States spacewalk, Harold Wilson, the Prime Minister, was about to fly to Moscow to open negotiations with the Soviet Union in a bid to halt the Vietnam War and a certain football trophy was soon to be handed to the great Bobby Moore.

Manolo, as he prefers to be known, has just passed his 70th birthday, but remains one of the most favoured of his country’s sportsmen, in a position of authority as tournament director of the Madrid Masters that, in next year’s tour revamp, is scheduled to become a mixed clay-court event at the multimillion-pound Caja Majica in the Spanish capital.

One of the most gifted players of his generation, with flair and touch, Santana blazed a trail for Spain. His star was already on the rise when he conquered the clay at Roland Garros to win the French championship in 1961 and 1964, and he showed a liking for grass when he won the US Open in 1965, the year before his triumph at Wimbledon.

“He was a magician on clay,” Rod Laver, the great Australian, said. “Manolo could hit the most incredible angles, drive you crazy with top-spin lobs or drop shots. And he improved his volleying so that he was dangerous on grass, too.”

In 1965 Santana became a national hero in Spain and was decorated by the country’s leader, General Franco, with the coveted Medal of Isabella. That year, Santana spearheaded the 4-1 upset of the United States team in Barcelona during the Davis Cup campaign and led Spain to the final for the first time. Although Australia prevailed 4-1, Santana gave Roy Emerson one of only two defeats he suffered in 21 Davis Cup singles matches.

It was then that he turned his attention to Wimbledon, the winning of which would really turn Spain’s divided attention to tennis. “These were difficult times in my country,” he said. “Tennis was only for a few, but I said to myself, ‘My God, this sport is perfect for the Spanish people because we are a very individualistic people.’ I felt tennis was a great opportunity for me to earn a good living.” He was in a minority of one.

Even when Santana won the French title in 1961, the resonance with the Spanish public had been low. “I was coming to Wimbledon, but losing in the first and second rounds all the time, which really hurt me,” he said. “I told myself that I had to do something different if I wanted to become the champion.”

Santana chose not to play at Roland Garros in 1965 and 1966, deciding instead to travel to Britain early and get used to the idiosyncrasies of grass. In the 1966 final, he defeated Dennis Ralston, of the US, 6-4, 11-9, 6-4. Few players would have had the temerity to kiss a royal hand, but Santana did it and they loved him for it.

How different, though, in temperament and physique were Santana and Nadal. Santana, who worked as a ballboy at a local club in Madrid, was slight at 5ft 11in but his perfect racket control meant that he could mix power with a feather-light touch, a player of real finesse. He marvels at Nadal’s play, the awesome power that the 22-year-old can generate.

“I see tennis now that I do not believe,” Santana said. “Right now, Rafa is the most confident player I have seen. If Wimbledon was played on ice, he would be confident. I talked with Rafa after he beat Ivo Karlovic at Queen’s, because it was a win that meant so much. He had been able to adjust so quickly to grass after the French Open and that was a shocking win for him, to beat the world No 1 [Federer] for the loss of four games. His concentration, his talent are enormous. To me, he is the man to beat.”

‘Grass is for cows’: how a clay-loving Spaniard changed his tune

When Manuel Santana first arrived at Wimbledon, he uttered the now famous words, beloved of so many subsequent clay-court specialists: “Grass is for cows.”

But in the summer of 1966, his opinion must have changed as he became the first Spaniard to win the men’s singles title, beating Dennis Ralston, the American, 6-4, 11-9, 6-4 in the final. When Roy Emerson, the pre-tournament favourite, crashed into the umpire’s chair against Owen Davidson, he injured his shoulder. His defeat left Santana as the favourite and, after winning two five-set battles to reach the final, he outplayed Ralston to clinch victory.

Santana had won the French championship in 1961 and 1964, but it was the following year that he became a national hero when, after winning the US Open, he led Spain to victory over the US on the way to the Davis Cup final. He went on to become the Davis Cup captain and is the tournament director of the Masters Series event in Madrid.