Joy of Sport

As one advances in years and indulgence in physical activity becomes increasingly rare, it is refreshing to be reminded of the joy of playing sports. One does not have to be accomplished at any form of sport to feel this way. In my formative years, more talented playmates outshone me in cricket, with the result that I gravitated towards football (aka soccer). There I found some sort of niche for myself as a dependable defender. Never good enough to get into any serious level such as the school/college team, I was still regarded with some of sort of respect among casual footballers, and could make it to the “class team” quite easily.

Over the years, football became my sport of choice, and I always looked forward to a game, for the satisfaction of a thundering kick well directed, the opposition pass intercepted, and the joy of nifty passes to my own teammates. During the college days, the evening game after a dreary run of classes became the highlight of my day. Many years later in Mumbai, as corporate life and family encroached on sporting pursuits, the Sunday morning game with other thirty plus inmates of the Cuffe Parade building became the highlight of my week.

Badminton has been another deeply satisfying sport, though I have played this infrequently and much less than football. My earliest memories of playing this sport go back to Hyderabad. I must have been around ten and my brother Murali a teenager. My father bought us 2 “Silver” rackets from a sports shop in Secunderabad, at something like forty rupees a piece, which seemed a big investment at the time. We strung a rope across two makeshift poles in the compound of my grandparents’ house, and played.

Many years later, while living in Chennai, badminton re-entered my life. The apartment complex where we lived had two indoor courts, and a doubles game in the evening after work became part of the daily routine. The games were keenly contested, and always satisfying. There is no better feeling than having one’s racket flukishly come in the way of an opponent’s powerfully hit smash and watch the shuttle drop innocently on the other side of the court.

Table tennis was another game I grew up with, although it was several years before I got to play on a real table. My first memories of the game are of playing it on the dining table of our apartment in Calcutta, with a row of paperbacks stood on their sides serving as our net. Murali used to beat me easily and I still remember the strange mix of joy and coming of age emotion I felt the first time I beat him, as a young teenager. We had a pair of red dimpled rackets, which were really more like plywood boards with thin rubber sheets pasted on. I had mine for several years, and used it to good effect in school to win some games against more fancied players. They attributed my victory to my “Fatta” racket, which they claimed negated all spin, and should be disallowed.

Unfortunately, sporting activity recedes in importance with the years. It is only now, with two little boys, one of whom is obsessed with it, that it is seeing a bit of a resurgence in my life. I had forgotten how good it feels, and look forward to the day the boys are a little older and we have an even contest.