Accepting brilliance for what it is

"If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two impostors just the same", wrote Rudyard Kipling. What better place to immortalise that than at Centre Court, Wimbledon. And what better player to deal with both than Roger Federer.

He almost met with triumph today. Almost, but who knows. My mind replays 40-0 at 5-6 in the 4th and it makes me believe that he would've won the tie break and the match. And it also tells me that he would've beaten Berdych or Murray simply because he was inspired. Because he knew that it might be his last shot at a Grand Slam title.

Age, injury and fatigue that let him be thus far have suddenly caught up. When was the last time that a trainer came onto the court for him twice? And when did he last fall? I felt the same last year too when he made the finals and eventually lost to Djokovic. I thought that was his last chance and that he wouldn't make it this far. I was wrong, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the same again.

Younger, better, faster and stronger against brilliance. Does it stand a chance? Should I even wish that it stood a chance or should I just enjoy the brilliance as it happens? As it kicks the hell out of all the other things every so often, but only just? Should I enjoy it without hoping for more, without wondering what next year might bring or if there will even be a next year? That would be the real disaster, wouldn't it?

Triumph and disaster aren't exclusive to a select few. The impostors show their heads four times a year for sure, and many other weeks off and on too. I have to learn to treat them both just the same. Just like Roger.

The player and the fan age (gracefully)

Was it only yesterday that a win or a loss would leave us both in tears, and my throat, perhaps more hoarse than yours? After all, you only yelled 'Come on!' when you thought that the shot you hit was perfect or if you won a tough point. Unlike me. I said it for every point. Your down the T serves at crunch time, your backhand crosscourts and your forehand drive volleys -- I would talk about them all day to whoever cared to listen. You probably thought about those too. I mean, you wouldn't have to talk about them to those around you, would you? They see that brilliance day in and day out.

Yesterday, however, was different although it started off as usual. Something changed after the second set. Maybe it was the early break, and the knowledge that the set had slipped away because it would be too tough to fight back. Did you feel that way too? I did. Your body language showed it but you still produced flashes of genius that left people hoping -- fingers and everything else crossed. The older me would've continued to scream and cheer and sit in the same spot that won you the second set. But I didn't, because I knew -- things have changed. You realised it too.

Yet, some things haven't changed -- I'm still superstitious and I'm guessing that you are too although how your family wasn't in the same outfits as they were on Friday is beyond me. Maybe they do other things, like eat the same food or carry something in their bag.

Is it age? Is it the plethora of things that occupy our older and wiser minds? Maybe it's our children. You, wondering if it was now their time and me, watching mine (at least one) cheer for your opponent.

At the end of it, I think that we are both gracious. You, in your defeat, and me in my mental acceptance of the changes that I will need to make in addition to the ones I already have. One thing I know for sure -- neither one of us will give up as long as we feel something that is, perhaps, hard to explain to others.

And we will go on with our lives, secure in that thought. 

Same clothes, same spot -- Sunday July 12

Today's match was peRFect not only because of the genius that is Federer but also because so many people in the world sat in the same spot, did the same thing, wore the same clothes...you get the gist.

Join me. Same clothes, same spot on Sunday, July 12.

What? Superstitious? ME?

Just do it

When something's that close, how do you feel when it doesn't go your way?

Do you try to forget the very few moments where you could've done something different or do you relive the many that set you apart? Do you worry that you might not get another shot or are you pleased about how you performed? Do you think of the many that write you off or the few that really believe? Do you wish you could do it again or do you just do it?

Just do it. Please. 

Magician, artist, dare i say god?- Part 4

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

For almost the entire 4+ hours, he didn't seem like any of those. The opponent did. Breaking His serves, hitting incredible passes and playing spectacular. But in the end, the tennis Gods favoured Him and history was made at the first opportunity. No tears this time, just plain relief. And humility. Understanding that the match could have gone the other way, that's what makes a true champion. Not taking things for granted and fighting till the end.

As a Sampras fan, I watched the match with mixed feelings. Records are made to be broken, so said Sampras himself. The child in me wished to see Sampras' name stay up there along with Federer's but the tennis fan in me was ecstatic. Mixed feelings. But no longer. Federer will win many more majors I'm sure and I want to say that His record will stand the test of time.

But I'll refrain for that's what I and many more said about Sampras'.

Conflict

Many times, the mind knows something that the heart does not want to acknowledge or believe. May even seem like a premonition sometimes. But the heart firmly rejects any thought of it. A sort of denial. "No, it just can't happen that way", believes the heart while the mind smiles smugly. The body that connects these two is in a state of limbo not sure who to go with; the all-knowing mind or the ever-believing heart. Its a tough time waiting for the result and when it comes, there are unshed tears. I'd like to believe that those same feelings were shared by both.