Play it again, Paes - The Hindu
http://www.hindu.com/2006/04/10/stories/2006041006511900.htm
Play it again, Paes
Sport is mostly trival pursuit. It is men such as Leander Paes and Steve Waugh who elevate it, writes Nirmal Shekhar
Sixteen years ago, on a windy morning in Melbourne, as noisy passenger and cargo trains drowned out the calls made by a rather soft-spoken chair umpire in an `outback' court at Flinders Park, an Indian spectator — one of two in attendance — turned to his companion and said, "`The kid has it, doesn't he?'' The man sitting next to him nodded, and smiled.
We — Rohit Brijnath, familiar to most readers of these columns, and I — knew on that bright January morning that we were witness to something special. Leander Adrian Paes, all of 16 years old, was playing one of the highest ranked junior stars of those days — Jan Kodes Jr., son of the 1973 Wimbledon champion Jan Kodes — and dominating the Czech teenager with his sheer strength of will in the Australian Open.
A pair of hardened sports writers sat on seat-edge and heralded the arrival of a special champion on that day not because Leander's shotmaking skills were extraordinary; they did so because few
Indian sportsmen, and perhaps no Indian tennis player before him, had displayed the raw fighting skills that Leander showcased when the chips were down.
Since that unforgettable day in Melbourne, through everything that has happened in Indian sport — from the highs of the Tendulkars and the Anands and Dravids — one little thing has remained unchanged. When it comes to spilling his guts in the cause of the nation, one man has stood head and shoulders above the rest — Leander Paes.
A yardstick
This is precisely why Leander transcends sport — _ he is much more than a tennis champion, or even an athletic achiever. As an Indian, Leander is a yardstick. You measure every other champion of the era against Leander when it comes to commitment to the country's cause. Even our admirable, upstanding cricket captain Rahul Dravid — who comes closest — for instance. And this is no insult to the man from Bangalore. It is, in fact, a tribute.
Watching Leander fight cramps, and a little-known Pakistani opponent, in the decisive fifth rubber on Sunday, a question suddenly popped up in my mind yet again. Has winning for the country ever meant so much to any other athlete in the entire history of sport in India? Has it ever meant as much to anyone as it does to Leander?
Not for a moment would any sane Indian ever question the patriotic zeal of several sporting icons who have brought off great victories for India. Nobody in his right mind would ever say that these sportspersons gave anything less than 100 per cent each time they turned out for the country. Yet, the question remains. Would the odd failure when playing for the country have shattered their hearts as devastatingly as it happens each time Leander fails to win a crucial rubber for India in the Davis Cup?
Pride and commitment
In the pantheon of Indian sport, the Gavaskars, Tendulkars, Krishnans and Anands may demand — and deserve too — more prominent places than Leander, but no man who has ever played for India can claim to have done so with greater pride and commitment and with a bigger heart than India's Davis Cup hero. This is a fact that is underlined every single time that Leander turns himself into a virtual one-man army on the Davis Cup stage.
Money doesn't move Leander, emotions do. As a product of the I-Me generation, Leander is very much an outsider. The biggest source of his motivation is not the same as it might be for the average champion of his generation. This is precisely why he seems to be able to climb on some invisible ladder to achieve an impressive altitude when playing for the country.
In the context of what Leander pulled off in Mumbai on Sunday, it's all very well to talk about an opponent being a push-over. But, then, it still takes someone who is brave enough, and strong-willed enough, to do the pushing. And, in Indian sport, not the least in Indian tennis, when push comes to shove, more often than not, many of our champions move over rather than come forward courageously to author the final act.
Say all you want about dazzling skills, celebrate all you want the gifts of an array of superstars in the sport of your choice. But give me an ageing, hobbled, down-and-out Leander any day — with the scores tied two sets apiece in the fifth rubber of a Davis Cup tie.
This writer has found only one thing equally soul-lifting in sport: Steve Waugh walking in to bat for Australia with his team staring down the barrel, four down for 49. Sport is mostly trivial pursuit.
Some moments, rarely, go beyond its defined boundaries. Mostly it is men such as Leander and Waugh who author those special moments that elevate sport.
Play it again, Paes
Sport is mostly trival pursuit. It is men such as Leander Paes and Steve Waugh who elevate it, writes Nirmal Shekhar
Sixteen years ago, on a windy morning in Melbourne, as noisy passenger and cargo trains drowned out the calls made by a rather soft-spoken chair umpire in an `outback' court at Flinders Park, an Indian spectator — one of two in attendance — turned to his companion and said, "`The kid has it, doesn't he?'' The man sitting next to him nodded, and smiled.
We — Rohit Brijnath, familiar to most readers of these columns, and I — knew on that bright January morning that we were witness to something special. Leander Adrian Paes, all of 16 years old, was playing one of the highest ranked junior stars of those days — Jan Kodes Jr., son of the 1973 Wimbledon champion Jan Kodes — and dominating the Czech teenager with his sheer strength of will in the Australian Open.
A pair of hardened sports writers sat on seat-edge and heralded the arrival of a special champion on that day not because Leander's shotmaking skills were extraordinary; they did so because few
Indian sportsmen, and perhaps no Indian tennis player before him, had displayed the raw fighting skills that Leander showcased when the chips were down.
Since that unforgettable day in Melbourne, through everything that has happened in Indian sport — from the highs of the Tendulkars and the Anands and Dravids — one little thing has remained unchanged. When it comes to spilling his guts in the cause of the nation, one man has stood head and shoulders above the rest — Leander Paes.
A yardstick
This is precisely why Leander transcends sport — _ he is much more than a tennis champion, or even an athletic achiever. As an Indian, Leander is a yardstick. You measure every other champion of the era against Leander when it comes to commitment to the country's cause. Even our admirable, upstanding cricket captain Rahul Dravid — who comes closest — for instance. And this is no insult to the man from Bangalore. It is, in fact, a tribute.
Watching Leander fight cramps, and a little-known Pakistani opponent, in the decisive fifth rubber on Sunday, a question suddenly popped up in my mind yet again. Has winning for the country ever meant so much to any other athlete in the entire history of sport in India? Has it ever meant as much to anyone as it does to Leander?
Not for a moment would any sane Indian ever question the patriotic zeal of several sporting icons who have brought off great victories for India. Nobody in his right mind would ever say that these sportspersons gave anything less than 100 per cent each time they turned out for the country. Yet, the question remains. Would the odd failure when playing for the country have shattered their hearts as devastatingly as it happens each time Leander fails to win a crucial rubber for India in the Davis Cup?
Pride and commitment
In the pantheon of Indian sport, the Gavaskars, Tendulkars, Krishnans and Anands may demand — and deserve too — more prominent places than Leander, but no man who has ever played for India can claim to have done so with greater pride and commitment and with a bigger heart than India's Davis Cup hero. This is a fact that is underlined every single time that Leander turns himself into a virtual one-man army on the Davis Cup stage.
Money doesn't move Leander, emotions do. As a product of the I-Me generation, Leander is very much an outsider. The biggest source of his motivation is not the same as it might be for the average champion of his generation. This is precisely why he seems to be able to climb on some invisible ladder to achieve an impressive altitude when playing for the country.
In the context of what Leander pulled off in Mumbai on Sunday, it's all very well to talk about an opponent being a push-over. But, then, it still takes someone who is brave enough, and strong-willed enough, to do the pushing. And, in Indian sport, not the least in Indian tennis, when push comes to shove, more often than not, many of our champions move over rather than come forward courageously to author the final act.
Say all you want about dazzling skills, celebrate all you want the gifts of an array of superstars in the sport of your choice. But give me an ageing, hobbled, down-and-out Leander any day — with the scores tied two sets apiece in the fifth rubber of a Davis Cup tie.
This writer has found only one thing equally soul-lifting in sport: Steve Waugh walking in to bat for Australia with his team staring down the barrel, four down for 49. Sport is mostly trivial pursuit.
Some moments, rarely, go beyond its defined boundaries. Mostly it is men such as Leander and Waugh who author those special moments that elevate sport.
