The Hindu : Sport / Tennis : Two moments of farce

Online edition of India's National Newspaper
Tuesday, Jan 02, 2007
ePaper

Sport

Sport - Tennis

Two moments of farce

Vijay Parthasarathy

Chennai: As far as opening ceremonies go, this one would rank as moderately dull. Would it be such a bad thing if they were dispensed with altogether? But no, the corporate heads — the representatives of sponsoring companies that make this tournament happen — must be introduced and publicly thanked.

Mercifully the speeches are few and short.

After a couple of rounds of self-congratulation, the roster of legends is called out. Not to digress, but that word is employed rashly these days, often ritually preceding a name like a knighthood. Anyhow, this is the part where some of the country's finest former players are introduced, year after year, to a politely appreciative audience. Ramanathan Krishnan is absent.

Finally, Vijay Amritraj, the host for this afternoon, invites the organising committee, a group of avuncular administrators, on to the dais.

* * *

Two moments of farce.

One: David Nalbandian, celebrating his 25th birthday on Monday, cuts a cake designed like a tennis court: the Centre Court here at Nungambakkam to be exact. Amritraj leads the crowd in a cringeworthy syncopated rendition of Happy Birthday. In a neat advertising gimmick, a couple of logos have been slapped on to the boundary of the cake. The cake itself is an unappetising green — the colour of the court's surface, the colour of my mother's soggy spinach.

Nalbandian nibbles at his piece doubtfully.

Two: Six pretty girls, all clad in olive green tees and cream trousers, are holding on to green and white balloons that are meant to be set free at the end of the ceremony; a couple of times when Amritraj uses the word "release", the balloons wobble like a sprinter making a false start.

* * *

What does travel mean to a professional athlete? That depends partly, I think, on how famous one is. According to Martin Brundle, the F1 driver-turned-commentator, the life is often far less glamorous than many people think; and in the context of motorsport, one combination of airport, hotel and paddock can look exactly the same as the next. "F1 racing is not as the old movies would have you believe," Brundle writes in Working the Wheel, "where the winner gets the best-looking girl and returns to the deserted track on the Monday morning to stand moodily amongst the littered, empty grandstands to relive his glorious victory."

It's the same for tennis players: their experience of a culture is usually restricted to the hotel, the local cuisine and, if the occasion rises, a sprinkling of personalities. Cities are lived through its people, and for a tennis star, there are relatively few opportunities to mix, under ordinary circumstances, with ordinary folks.

On the other hand, a native resident's life is often measured out in shuttling between home and his workplace — he has little time to sample the flavours of his own city. The privileged man's concept of comfort zones is as authentic as the poor man's.

One supposes the fact that athletes (especially the successful ones) can take borders for granted counts for something.

Printer friendly page
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail

Sport