Storyline: Tennis is artistry, a marathoning enigma of blood and flesh beneath the human skin.
Artists (read as athletes) can make your heart humor with my mimicry, adept shot making, or maneuvering the ball to the far end of the court with a flick of a wrist. As a sports columnist by profession and a qualified researcher I clearly and truly understand, my eyelids, in the near future will halt to rest, if only forever. But, before that inevitable happens, I dream to touch many a heart and travel the farthest distance unknown, in my chosen area of art and expertise, sports writing.
The year was 2009. The month, January. Two left-handers, one from Madrid and the other from Manacor are vying their trade to hold aloft the Norman Brookes Challenge Cup, aka, The Australian Open. Frankness behold, the aforementioned three are lefties or–as the modern-day people call–south paws. As a south paw myself I was glued to the television set that day if only to witness the greatest tennis game ever in my dictionary.
Now then, to use the word “greatest” draws knives from the faithful of Federer, Sampras, Agassi, Bjorn Borg and company. But like a fish that adores and admires the watery waters I use that word. Back then, these two lefties were aborning and heralding to an avatar of Tennis–no one once believed, nor, thought so.
Courtesy: the-tennis-freaks.com
Watching Nadal and Verdasco nattering and jabbering with their rackets is beyond words. I’ve visited and galloped through many a library to pen a phrase that befits their magic and all I can say is “tongues wizened, knees enfeebled and crippled, flagging off any deposits of calcium, bodies stonkered and the blood and flush, bushwhacked.”
That, to me, is Tennis. That to me is hex at an immortal level.
James Clarke, one of the most renowned coaches in Swimming once said, “We prepare for each practice so there is a direct objective we hope to accomplish at the end of session. As such, it’s the same with each game. We try and make sure our team is prepared, knows what is expected of them and then trains/plays properly. We, both the players and staff, do our best to give the best possible effort regardless of the situation, but it’s clear that there is more attention to detail from the players in big games.”
Broken shells and beaten souls tell many a story of patience and perseverance if not caked bosoms that hardly bore any pack of pain. Rising from the phoenix like gladiators of ore, time and again, the personnel involved in sports march ahead with a gifted talent and knack that can be modulated to suit multiple accents and styles.
When time halts itself for an early morning’s breakfast or an evening’s cup of coffee, we, the columnists find us bossing and often blatherskiting on the artistry at display. For this and many, we reply on many a note and on hours of gluing our eyelids to the television set.
Courtesy: rafanadal-kingoftennis-ru
In the words of a good friend of mine and a columnist, “We roam the gardens of vocabulary and literature to gather garlands of words to worship the everlasting importance of these humble left handers.”
To sum up what these two brothers of mine me to me, I’d say, Rafael Nadal and Fernando Verdasco …
Art and Artist
Master and Mentor
Magician and Wizard
Scholar and Intellect
Authority and Expert …
shall live with us till the end of time.
