“You cannot be serious” – John McEnroe, through out the eighties at random tennis umpires all over the world. I happened to express the same words in a much less animated manner but more so with despair when I read how the champ cried after losing to the new muscle flexing Spanish kid. I have noticed and have come up with the conclusion of him being a very passionate man. From his racquet throwing, abuses hurling wild ways to the calm and composed ways of an experienced campaigner, he has always cried his heart out along the way.
When Roger Federer won his first Wimbledon, he cried like a baby. Everyone stood up and acknowledged his great emotion at display. He won it the second time, did it again and again the third time and the fourth time. By the fifth time , he came in his classy personal apparel designed by Nike with the now famous RF insignia, managed to not get beaten by the tenacious Rafael Nadal and yet again he cried, I mean , you’ve been there and done that five more times more than most winners would ever , enough with the sobbing.
But then again, I really wouldn’t want to judge the great man. For till last year he was being called the undisputed champ, arguably the greatest ever and now all of a sudden, he, has become the underdog. How fickle the order seems. I think what one undermines is the great passion he has for the sport, for winning, for fighting, for glory. Everyone talks of his great talent, his dynamic game play, the serve and volley, the one handed backhand and down the line winners but more than all of these it is undying passion he wears on his sleeve and exhibits without a shame, in victory or in defeat.
But even he will now be singing, in the pursuit of the 14th and conquest of the Parisian clay, and in turn eternal glory, ‘purple haze is in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same’.
When Roger Federer won his first Wimbledon, he cried like a baby. Everyone stood up and acknowledged his great emotion at display. He won it the second time, did it again and again the third time and the fourth time. By the fifth time , he came in his classy personal apparel designed by Nike with the now famous RF insignia, managed to not get beaten by the tenacious Rafael Nadal and yet again he cried, I mean , you’ve been there and done that five more times more than most winners would ever , enough with the sobbing.
But then again, I really wouldn’t want to judge the great man. For till last year he was being called the undisputed champ, arguably the greatest ever and now all of a sudden, he, has become the underdog. How fickle the order seems. I think what one undermines is the great passion he has for the sport, for winning, for fighting, for glory. Everyone talks of his great talent, his dynamic game play, the serve and volley, the one handed backhand and down the line winners but more than all of these it is undying passion he wears on his sleeve and exhibits without a shame, in victory or in defeat.
But even he will now be singing, in the pursuit of the 14th and conquest of the Parisian clay, and in turn eternal glory, ‘purple haze is in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same’.
