Tuesday, September 11, 2007

A peek into my pensieve

I’ve had long drawn discussions with my old friends Vcd and Todd about the veracity of the popular notion that “Federer is the best player to have lifted a tennis racquet”. As I so often do, I tend to stick my money in stats from the past. I haven’t seen a player of the class of a Sampras who in the midst of greatness all around him stood head and shoulders above everyone else. Would Sampras be considered as a legend if Federer was playing in the same era? Probably not; but neither would Federer. These are just random musings on the part of an old man though. I still tend to look at facts and the fact is that I can’t get a certain US Open final out of my mind and that is where I need to delve deep into my pensieve to dig out the greatest upset that humbled a cocky Federer.

It was just another fine day in NewYork where the crowd had resigned to yet another youngster’s decimation by the hands of Roger. Little did they realize that this strapping, ebullient, Metro-sexual young man had the talent of a Sampras, the work ethic of a Courier, the grace of Edberg and the determination of a Lendl. Never had one seen the complete package in a wild card entry ever before. He ran like a gazelle covering every inch of concrete with consummate ease. His nonchalant wafts and magical racquet struck a deep chord with the rapacious crowd who egged his mastery and erupted at his opponent’s errors. He was a true son of the soil and the hallowed turf was shrinking its womb to etch his footprint where a vast legion of warriors had succumbed valiantly. The large contingent of Federer-haters including yours truly had finally found their voice after nine gruelling years of staying mute.

Federer face was ashen as if he had just been violated by a 12 inch alpha specimen. His precise if not perfect back hand had completely deserted him, his once feared fore hand was being mauled by incisive ground strokes and his unruffled demeanor was sullied by his rants towards the chair and his incessant frustrated hissing. The first set flew by like the cool autumn breeze that was blowing through the ‘Meadows’. The 6-4 score line against Federer appeared a lot closer than it actually was. Things though did not take a turn towards the worse; the youthful exuberance of the young man and his heart stopping plays lit up the azure sky; reminiscent of Sampras in the days of yore. A running back hand followed a delicate lob, every drop shot was accentuated by a fearsome forehand cross court passing shot and each precise first serve was complimented by an even better array of volleys. The second set was an even shorter affair: 6-2. This was Providence in flesh, justice was being served cold!

I sat there with my mind racing ahead of time imagining this young rookie lifting a rare piece of silverware amidst years of ruthless domination. I quickly snapped out of my halcyon thoughts for fear of bewitching the foreclosure of what lay ahead. But nothing of that nature happened; the best was yet to come. The relentless machine gun fire from the rookie’s racquet kept pace with the racing heart beats of every human being inside the arena. His iridescent presence beneath the luminous floodlights and an incandescent moon bequeathed the master of his glowing past. A 6-0 bagel set in the final was a fitting way to end Federer’s humiliation, just as the way he has humiliated others. The night was young but to me, a new day had already dawned.


The scenes after the young man’s victory are as fresh in my mind as the virgin snow. Even though I’m entering the fag end of my sojourn, I can never forget the euphoria of having seen my closest buddies beat one of the best player’s ever. If only he had continued longer, the question that I posed at the very beginning would have never been raised. He will always, to me, be a man who fought disability to emerge triumphant. That image of him lifting the trophy in one hand and a Jackie Shroffish thumbs-up with the other will forever be etched in my mind. Click here to reminisce a forgotten great.

I salute you my dear friend Marw.

5 comments:

vcd said...

Hahaha .... Brilliantly written ... I can just imagine Marw, at the presentation ceremony, breaking into the legendary song "Dhyaan ab apna jyada rakhta hu, sochta hu main kaisa lagta hu" ... and revealing the title of his new autobiography "Balls ... they are overrated" :-)

Balls said...

"Balls....they are overrated"....hahahaha! What a fuckin brilliant comment!!!!

Thanks for the brilliant pic though....Vishal Studio, Garodia Nagar rox!

अनूप said...

Balls,
Brilliantly written blog.. a perfect culmination to our discussions over the past few days. And hilarious comment Vcd.. couldn't have been more apt. ROFL.
Balls..you didn't discuss about his post match conference where Marw so fittingly admitted, "Its been tough two weeks of hard fought tennis. Now I am going to take time off and just enjoy the fall colors in Baltimore" .. truly .. "Love is in the air" .

SurAj said...

lol ! :D ... great job !

Anonymous said...

well played Marw.. well played

Abhi picture baaki hai mere dost !

Freaks Inc.. Bengaluru.. 15 years 2 months and 8 days later.. Agenda for the meeting: Day 1 1. Paying our respects to the beginning of time ...