Oftentimes, I wonder what is first. The sport or the players? While professionals who have played any sport will readily admit that none can ever be bigger than the game itself, as a spectator, I am often trapped in a catch-22 situation.
In this day and age, where power, speed, agility constitute a player's dominance, I wonder how much of the romance and elegance gets embodied in him. As a spectator, I followed only two sports in my life. Tennis and Cricket. This I think, was more to do with the history and romance with these, through the people who played it. Sadly, it is slowly diminishing for me...
With tennis, epic matches between Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi generated more interest than scoring points with chicks. I revered Micheal Chang for his amazing cross-court play, Stefan Edberg for his class, Boris Becker for his tenacity and Steffi Graf for her grace (too bad I was not part of the Chris Evert era). But Sampras/Agassi took the cake. Not for the players they were, but for the people they are (I still have to read Open by Agassi!). As a spectator, you have the additional luxury to assimilate players' persona with judgement. You can cross the barrier to ridicule someone for his brashness, or awe someone for this humility. But, in the end, somewhere a part of you wants to imbibe qualities like will, grit, determination, stamina, tenacity, courage, class which, eventually sums up your respect-quotient towards that player. This is what I loved with Sampras and Agassi and strangely this also increased the aura of the game itself. You come to realize that sports personalities are largely different from you and me, simply because of their undying love for something they believe in, something that flows through their veins. So, it follows naturally that a romance for the game ensues. But if one factors this account of "romance" or "love for something we believe" in our daily lives, I am sure we would find ourselves performing our daily tasks much more potently. Sadly, not all of us can lay a substantial claim to that.
In-spite of cricket being a team sport, Indian cricket players have always held a super-stardom status. So, automatically, they "become" bigger than the game in the eyes of the spectator. We are often interested in how a player defines himself outside the field of play. How well he carries himself, how controversy-free he is, how he values ethics of the sport, and the like. I would love for someone to talk about his first visit to the Lord's dressing room, what he felt when he walked out on to the field at the Eden Gardens, how best he related with history at the Adelaide Oval, what does he think when he sees the honours board in the venues across the world, how soon his focus moves to the zone where nothing else matters besides the duel between bat and ball, how he finds comfort within the game he plays, how he feels to be part of an opponent's team's psyche in nerve-wrecking duals, what he thinks of the Ashes urn, what runs through his mind when he sees trophies on display. These, in my opinion would encapsulate the beauty of the sport and the game that is played within it's quarters. We have been very fortunate to have been part of an era in Indian cricket where a certain nucleus of players came together at the break of the century to guide the spectator's imagination for love of the game. The class of 2000 was not merely a group of individuals, but were our symbols of hope, courage, intensity, agony, ecstasy, respect. They became entities that defined the sport itself. That, their personalities grew in stature in our eyes, is a mere corollary to this. Or is it?
This is where I am caught like a deer in front of headlights. Am I lured by the romance of the sport or am I star-struck by the achievements of the legends? As I go over what I have written so far, I am amazed by the amount of ambiguity I generate. Sometimes, the competition to prove who is better, the instinct to win, do not take precedence when you want to focus on the regalia of the traditions of the game.
To judge a sport for it's game or the people who played it? The question plays itself all over again...
In this day and age, where power, speed, agility constitute a player's dominance, I wonder how much of the romance and elegance gets embodied in him. As a spectator, I followed only two sports in my life. Tennis and Cricket. This I think, was more to do with the history and romance with these, through the people who played it. Sadly, it is slowly diminishing for me...
With tennis, epic matches between Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi generated more interest than scoring points with chicks. I revered Micheal Chang for his amazing cross-court play, Stefan Edberg for his class, Boris Becker for his tenacity and Steffi Graf for her grace (too bad I was not part of the Chris Evert era). But Sampras/Agassi took the cake. Not for the players they were, but for the people they are (I still have to read Open by Agassi!). As a spectator, you have the additional luxury to assimilate players' persona with judgement. You can cross the barrier to ridicule someone for his brashness, or awe someone for this humility. But, in the end, somewhere a part of you wants to imbibe qualities like will, grit, determination, stamina, tenacity, courage, class which, eventually sums up your respect-quotient towards that player. This is what I loved with Sampras and Agassi and strangely this also increased the aura of the game itself. You come to realize that sports personalities are largely different from you and me, simply because of their undying love for something they believe in, something that flows through their veins. So, it follows naturally that a romance for the game ensues. But if one factors this account of "romance" or "love for something we believe" in our daily lives, I am sure we would find ourselves performing our daily tasks much more potently. Sadly, not all of us can lay a substantial claim to that.
In-spite of cricket being a team sport, Indian cricket players have always held a super-stardom status. So, automatically, they "become" bigger than the game in the eyes of the spectator. We are often interested in how a player defines himself outside the field of play. How well he carries himself, how controversy-free he is, how he values ethics of the sport, and the like. I would love for someone to talk about his first visit to the Lord's dressing room, what he felt when he walked out on to the field at the Eden Gardens, how best he related with history at the Adelaide Oval, what does he think when he sees the honours board in the venues across the world, how soon his focus moves to the zone where nothing else matters besides the duel between bat and ball, how he finds comfort within the game he plays, how he feels to be part of an opponent's team's psyche in nerve-wrecking duals, what he thinks of the Ashes urn, what runs through his mind when he sees trophies on display. These, in my opinion would encapsulate the beauty of the sport and the game that is played within it's quarters. We have been very fortunate to have been part of an era in Indian cricket where a certain nucleus of players came together at the break of the century to guide the spectator's imagination for love of the game. The class of 2000 was not merely a group of individuals, but were our symbols of hope, courage, intensity, agony, ecstasy, respect. They became entities that defined the sport itself. That, their personalities grew in stature in our eyes, is a mere corollary to this. Or is it?
This is where I am caught like a deer in front of headlights. Am I lured by the romance of the sport or am I star-struck by the achievements of the legends? As I go over what I have written so far, I am amazed by the amount of ambiguity I generate. Sometimes, the competition to prove who is better, the instinct to win, do not take precedence when you want to focus on the regalia of the traditions of the game.
To judge a sport for it's game or the people who played it? The question plays itself all over again...
