My Game...

I was ten years old. Six years older than my brother, six years younger than the best cricketer of my society, and had four years of experience in how to handle moderately pushy parents who had just the kind of neighbour that every ten year old should be vary of. Good in studies, loved swimming, liked sports, trained classical dancer, finished all the meals, ate all fruits..... and did i say, was good in studies too? Well, my parents just couldn't help but compare the two kids. After a failed attempt in making me learn swimming last vacations, it was time for some racquet sport. (i remember my swimming coach used to ask me to stand next to the pool and the moment he got half a chance, pushed the unsuspecting kid; read: me, who was busy watching other kids splashing in the pool, into the pool to give them company. Thankyou coach. You gave me a free membership of the Club of Hydrophobics for the next ten years). So my parents, to be fair this time, threw some chits to pick a sport for summer training. Tan-te-dan! and the sport that got lucky was Badminton aka 'baddy' aka same-sport-that-my-neighbour-enrolled-in-two-days-ago.

Anyway, i was excited. My new racquet had a gleaming silver shaft and a less gleaming, silvery green frame and i don't remember the colour of the strings. It weighed approximately three times as much as the racquet i now use and probably the same as my right hand. Cant tell you the exact figure but it left my dad poorer by Rs 60-Rs 80. I dont remember any day in particular during that summer coaching camp but clearly recall having broken my racquet. I must add here that this was the second time in my life that i had been introduced to a sport in which i just couldn't tolerate being beaten. The first was Cricket. Gully Cricket. I used to hate losing a baddy match so much that when i realized that i was losing to one (older) girl all the time i was totally convinced that its my racquet's fault. It was too much for me to tolerate and as a desperate measure, i decided to offer my racquet to the Gods as sacrifice. I got a new racquet. This one a DSC brand, wide body, blue coloured, steel shaft racquet and it set my dad back by Rs 350. I lost to her again.

Well, not only was this a sport i hated losing in, it was also a sport that i couldn't get enough of. If i lost one match, i had to win two to make up, which hardly happened. i lost more, i played more matches to recover from the debt, and days passed (those were the days of best of 3, fifteen points each game, old rules). When i was into my fourth month of training, i participated in a tournament. It was the second Thane District Selection championship. The draws were out maybe five days before the match. I realized, a day after i saw the draws, that my opponent was a classmate's big brother. My head held high, without any fear i told my classmate something that amounted to something between an open challenge and a warning. I don't remember having asked her to do the noble act of passing on the message to her brother, anyway, even that happened. He was down with fever for the next two days. In the meanwhile, things took a pleasant turn at my place. My dad bought me a Yonex kit bag and a Yonex Carbonex 21 special racquet. One of the best racquets of the time. (Honestly, what i felt when i got that racquet is I D E N T I C A L to what Harry Potter must have felt when he got his new Firebolt) Two minutes before the start of the match, i was sitting right next to my opponent on a chair waiting for a match on the same court to end. He was visibly nervous. I was unfazed. I even remember speaking to him but dont remember what. I was sure it was gonna be a walk in a park for me. No classmate's brother could ever beat me in the game i had been learning for 4 months. FOUR BLOODY LONG MONTHS!. He beat me 15-2, 15-0.

Normalcy prevailed and i got some valuable experience in how to handle losses. Although i still had difficulty holding back from throwing my racquet from the first court straight at a wall on the other side of the third court when i lost some must win matches, but i used to love my new racquet a little more than i cared for the Gods this time to offer it as a sacrifice. I played more tournaments, lost more matches, played even more and lost still more. Among the most memorable are the inter-school tournaments that i played. My best baddy buddy was from another school and the draws were always so fixed that i meet him in the finals. I always lost to him but playing him used to be such a pleasure. The competition between us was like that in an India-Pakistan Cricket match with the exception that we were great friends. I used to love that tournament more also because its the only tournament of which i remember reaching the finals.

Four years into the sport and i decided to train with the champions. I started going to Dadoji Konddev Staduim in Thane for training where more than half of the very best players of the time trained. I was in the eighth standard, thirteen years old and travelled an hour each side to and from the stadium after school on consecutive week days. On weekends the training used to last almost the entire day. Morning to evening. Truth be said, i have never worked harder in my life in anything compared to what i did in that one year. But too much of something is not good and the will to be a better baddy player started getting overpowered by the enthusiasm and fun in gully cricket. No love was lost; maybe i started realizing that i will not be able to make it big in the sport, besides i used to be constantly reminded that making it big in any sport in this country, no matter how big, is not big enough. Anyway i used to take long breaks during exams and recovering used to take time. I accepted that i wasn't born to be a professional sportsman. No tears shed. Since then i have been playing on and off, occasionally, whenever i have enough cash, time and energy to play. Time and energy have now taken a back seat. Whether or not i played baddy on a particular day depended on whether i had been able to save 50 bucks to spend for 2 hours of play. Now its 80. 130 on weekends.

On one occasion, while tossing the shuttle, as i completed the stroke, i realized the racquet didnt hit the shuttle at all, rather the shuttle fell on my head and the racquet on my partner's head while its handle was still in my hand. That was the last match i played with my carbonex 21. I bought an Ashway. Been using it for four years now. I am in my twelfth year of this relationship with the sport. I still hate losing. Theres a good likelihood that i am the loudest and probably the most animated player playing on the court at any given time. I still lose way too many matches than i think i should. I still try to win 2 matches for every game i lose. Or maybe 3 now.