Sports and Me

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Have you heard this adage?  The issue with such adages is the lack of measurability.  I mean, how far is the apple allowed to travel before the adage becomes void?  Is this distance a function of the prowess of the tree?

My mother, was quite the sportsperson in her day.  She participated in college cricket, basketball, and competitive rowing.  And from what I hear, she was quite good.  In other words, a tree with hefty prowess.  On the other hand, I, the apple, turned out to be quite the antithesis.

It was summer 1992.  Wimbledon season.  I had just turned 8.  Everyone was sitting in my grandparents' living room watching a nail-biting tiebreaker between Andre Agassi and Goran Ivanišević in the finals.  While everyone was intently discussing Ivanišević's killer serves and Agassi's energetic baseline play, I was busy sketching.  By the time Agassi thrashed Ivanišević in the fifth set, I had sketched the entire match in the form of a comic book.  I basked in my family's praise that entire evening.  Everyone probably thought that the match had ignited a passion for tennis in me and that they could now have me learn and start playing the sport.

But that never happened.  

A couple years later, when my parents realized that I was reluctant to play any sport, they decided to sign me up for badminton classes, which I ended up attending for all of two weeks.  I remember prancing aimlessly on the court with a bunch of wiry kids, much taller and stronger than me, as part of a dreary warm-up routine.  I also vaguely recollect getting yelled at for not being able to grasp (pun intended) the correct racquet gripping technique.  A couple months later when I was strolling nonchalantly down a busy street, my mind badminton-free after having quit the seminary, I unfortunately spotted my badminton tutor in the crowd.  She was buying tomatoes or something from a street vendor.  Having seen only her authoritarian form hitherto, it was weirdly unsettling to see her in the midst of a worldly task like vegetable shopping.  Needless to say, I panicked, turned, and bolted!  I could hear her call after me, "अरे, तू खेळायला का येत नाहीयेस…? (Hey, why are absconding from class…?)".  I did not dare to turn around!

Cricket, I have to admit, was a slightly different story.  Just like any other Indian kid, I was deeply deeply passionate about the sport.  It was pretty much the only sport I actually wanted to play.  Unfortunately I sucked at it.  Our apartment building, just like every other apartment building in India, had a bunch of prodigious cricketing talents; we had a 12 year old Kapil Dev, a 9 year old Steve Waugh, a 10 year old Sachin Tendulkar, and a 13 year old Vinod Kambli.  I, however, was Bhaichung Bhutia.  Because, I would panic when the 12 y.o. Kapil Dev bowled the tennis ball at me, and would end up kicking the ball instead of striking it with the bat!  My cricketing story is so pitiable that while my passion for the sport made me one of the organizers of my high school Std VIII cricket league, I was the worst player of the lot.  I was ignominiously known as a "wide-ball slow medium" bowler in high school cricketing circles.  My run up resembled that of a fast bowler, sort of like Allan Donald's run up, but when I released the ball, all the fielders would brace themselves to catch the ball even before it reached the batsman, because no one, including me, knew which way the ball would travel.  Every time I walked back to the top of my run-up with my head down in disgrace, I would wish I had somehow missed the match like RK Narayan's Swami!

Now that this apple has fallen fairly far away from the tree, one wonders about the fate of the next generation apples.  Thankfully, Pavana played competitive sport when she was younger.  The word on the street is that she was a track and field champion in her day.  I made the mistake of playing table tennis with her while on our honeymoon.  She crushed me.  Absolutely crushed me.  The hope is that Pavana's sporting aptitude somehow rubs off on Medha and Mira!