Racket and noise

The French Open is here. And so are ochre clay courts and them sultry summery evenings, with the monsoon just hovering over. Actually the French Open has started and has been going on for some time now, but any Grand Slam fan will know that the real fun begins only from the quarter-final stage. That is if there have not been any rude upsets in the round stages.    

I used to be a big tennis buff, till the generation of Sampras, Agassi, Chang and Courier bid goodbye. Then there was a brief period of lull, with the coming on scene of several one slam wonders. Tennis as a sport was in peril. 


Then a pony tailed Federer arrived, playing geometrically and aesthetically and by God gracefully. And then came Nadal with roller skates for feet, playing adrenalin-ally and at times uglyly. And then Djokovic barged in, playing ruthlessly and coldly but always winningly. And the thrill of tennis rivalries was reignited. 


Rivalry is the soul of sport. But only the bigoted like it when things turn ugly, right? Wrong. Perhaps there's a bigot lurking inside every fan, being suppressed from being mean and foul mouthed, confirming that sport doesn’t build character, but reveals it, even if you’re only watching.

On the evening when Federer lost to the irrepressible Nadal at the Australian Open, I wrote this to assuage my feelings, as I sat licking my wounds.

"If sport is about contest, a rivalry is its most enchanting, everlasting memory. In the mind's eye, a rivalry is forever vigorous, pulsating with energy, even if it’s once gladiators are now wobbly in stride and greying in strand. A rivalry is greater than its rivals in isolation. Like a legendary rock band, whose phantasmagorical quality out-dazzles the magnetic individuality of its members. A rivalry is so eagerly anticipated that it seems as if the rivals have dutifully turned up to witness the magic they would create together. A rivalry need not be between equals, so long as it repeatedly elevates its protagonists to a higher ground. When arch rivals spar, contest matters more than conquest. It’s sport at its best behaviour. But try telling that to a fan or a mob.

All this preamble may sound like an apology letter written by a Federer fan to the universe. And maybe it is. It’s technically impossible to write glowingly about a yesteryear’s champion, who’s still playing beautifully, but whose genius can no longer carry the weight of his sterling past, or carry him past the muscular belligerence of much younger contenders. If you still haven’t got it, I’m talking about the match with Nadal at the Australian Open, which Federer lost in four sets.

Federer started in uncharacteristically aggressive fashion, showing determination and intent. He wasn’t smiling his thin-lipped, for-the-camera smile as he entered. Nadal’s warm up which he seemed to have started a day earlier continued for the rest of the match. “I swear it’s not blood that runs through Nadal’s veins, but petrol,” said Vijay Amritraj jokingly. He needn’t have because some of the shots Nadal played that night seemed to suggest that he was on duty to protect a fortress; nothing, absolutely nothing got past him. He ran, braked; power braked; spun on his toes, lurched to his left, ducked, fell, got up, sprinted, sent across a thundering forehand, pumped his fist and clenched his jaws. To this Federer was doing his ballet, careening from one side of the court to the other with noiseless feet while Nadal was doing his somersaults."        

Now in French Open – a turf on which Federer’s has been at his weakest over the years – Federer will meet the marauding Djokovic. Djokovic whom no one seems willing or capable of beating. For our old man Federer (he is the oldest French Open semi-finalist in 20 years!), his legion of fans will hope that he wins the French Open (for ol'timessake!), for it will be the perfect send-off to the man who's reenergized tennis and inspired so many players who are now beating him with merciless ease.

The problem with Federer is, he gives you enough hints of his genius even in a match he’s lost for you to remain hopeful. But the fan is selfish; he or she can go on supporting a loser for only so long. Moreover, they detest their hero being spectacularly mauled and parodied. Federer will still have his fan base intact for years to come, but his glory may lose some of its sheen if he continues losing.

What do I want? Federer to beat Djokovic in four sets in semis and then Nadal in five sets in the final and then immediately announce at the French Open that he will be retiring after Wimbledon. That way his departing memory will be that of a winner and he will have ensured a shot at the hallowed grass courts before completely packing off. It’s not too much, is it?