Marat Safin

I don't consider myself a tennis fan. I know most of the rules, know the current world #1s. But that's about it. On a fine January morning in 2005, I happened to read an article celebrating the twenty-fifth birthday of (to me) little known Russian tennis player. That player was of course, Marat Safin (And if you didn't see that coming after the post title, YOU'RE A DOLT). I remember being extremely fascinated by this man. I loved the fact that he wore his heart on his sleeve, wasn't afraid to say what he thought. His temper amused me too - he'd break racquets and berate himself in multiple languages... His only stumbling block was his form, which varied as erratically as weather forecasts vary from reality. I decided that I had to see this man play. It was convenient that his birthday, and consequently the article, were around the time of the 2005 Australian open. I saw all of his matches during that Australian open, and was immediately a fan. He defeated Roger Federer in an epic semi-final and the went on to beat the fan favourite Australian Lleyton Hewitt in another fabulous match. I'd finally found a tennis player to support.

It all went downhill from there. Plagued by injury and a lack of self belief, Safin hardly ever made it past the initial rounds of most tournaments after that. I gave up watching tennis too. Roger Federer was too boring and I didn't really like Nadal. Fast forward to a couple of days back, and I see a news article that said that Safin was through to the third round of Wimbledon having beaten Novak Djokovic. That got me excited, I made every attempt to get the time for his third round match. A prolonged search got me a time of 6:30 PM IST, yesterday. But then, one must not forget that Wimbledon is in Great Britain. Thanks to the weather, the match only started around 11 PM IST. To cut a long story short, he won. What excites me is that last night (I stayed up to 2 AM, watching him win) he was the vintage Safin. There was a little bit of everything that makes Marat Safin what he is. There was a racquet thrown, frequent yelling, multiple expressions of disbelief at how he'd been cheated by providence over one shot or the other. Coming up to the what had to be the last game (he only had to hold serve), him leading 7-6, 3-6, 7-6, 5-4, the crowd was going crazy. There was a spectacular Mexican wave that went around Court 1 thrice before he could even start his serve. And then, just to prove that this was of course, the ever erratic Marat Safin, he went on to trail 15-40. Everybody (me included) must have groaned inwardly at this juncture. Could he blow it all? Having done all the hard work, would he stumble now? And he didn't. The crowd went beserk as he took victory from an increasingly panic stricken Andreas Seppi.

Safin is quite the fan favourite. The spectators gathered at court 1 braved chilling weather, seated till after 9 PM local time, to see another Safin epic, and they were rewarded. Safin was gracious enough to sign a multitude of autographs after the gruelling three hour match, and left the court to loud cheers from the spectators. What is it about this Russian that makes him such a favourite with the fans? To be really honest, I think Safin's rollercoaster career appeals to this feeling we all have inside us. The tragedy of unfulfilled genius. Safin embodies that unfulfilled genius. That's why, his win is our win, his loss is our loss, his heartbreak is ours and his jubilation is ours too.

One of the commentators said something about destiny. If ever Safin was supposed to win Wimbledon, it had to be now. Can he win? Of course, when he's mentally fit, it doesn't matter who the opponent is. It just doesn't. He can steamroll the best into submission. Will he? That's another matter altogether, for Marat Safin always plays with a handicap. Only one man is trying to defeat his opponent. Safin. However, two men are trying to defeat Safin. His opponent and - Safin himself. I'm sure there are millions of fans worldwide who'd like to see him overcome himself in the coming days. If he can do that, I truly, from the bottom of my heart feel sorry for his opponents.

Like another commentator said, "It's ridiculous really, that a man of such prodigious talent last won a grand slam at the Australian open three years ago."

The Chronicles of Abba: The Cult of Baba

The way Abba's going, he'll soon be the most famous person on the planet (for *ahem* the wrong reasons!). The third chronicle of Abba takes us to a pre-Seamen (* cough cough*) Abba. There we all were - just having returned from the star party. Abba had been awake the whole night, clicking away to glory... Understandably, the lack of sleep did not agree with his constitution. The responses from his began to get more and more vague, until this happened:

Enthu: (Mocking query) Can we expect any good photographs from you at all?
Abba: Arre just go to Katraj.
Enthu: What?
Decibel: Hahaha... What's wrong Abba? Horrid pics?
Abba: Why don't you too go to Katraj and have milk?
Enthu: Look now... he's lost it so bad he's going to send you to Katraj no matter what you say...
Me: Hey Abba - You suck!
Abba: Just go to Katraj, dude.
Enthu: This is going to become a legend in our college... Part of college lore... Telling someone to go to Katraj will be like the biggest threat you could give someone... Imagine-
Senior: Junior1, you're going to go to Katraj today...
Junior1: NOOOOO!!!
Junior2: (to Junior3) My God Junior1 has had it today...
Junior3: Agreed... He's in for a drubbing today... Hope we see him tomorrow...
Me: Hahaha!
Abba: Arre shut up dude! Don't you want to drink milk in Katraj?
Enthu: I've understood I think... I think Abba is the Doodh Baba. He's a baba who's sole devotion is to milk... So it follows that 'Go to Katraj' is his way of saying 'Go to Hell'.
Me: Hahahaha what the random!
Enthu: Please forgive me Baba, I have grievously wronged you by making fun of you... Just don't send me to Katraj!
Abba: What? Uhh?
Enthu: No baba, forgive me, I have made a mistake...
Abba (transformation to Baba now complete) : Hmm... I shall consider...

More followed, until the Doodh Baba became a part of Astronomy Club lore...

Next post: Hymns to Baba; Facts about Baba that you did not know.

It pays to do the right thing

Long time, no see eh? What? You were happy I wasn't blogging much? No I didn't quite hear that. Stop mumbling and go on to read the next post.

This happened a few days back...
My cousin and I were returning home one night. It wasn't what you'd call a long ride... about 10km or so. I hadn't been sure of the amount of fuel in my bike, so while I was checking that, he left. He had a headstart of 5 minutes or so. Once I was convinced that there was sufficient fuel, I was off. I'm the younger one here, and the one with the smaller (engine displacement) bike. Thought it would be fun to catch up with him, and ten km would be a long enough distance to make up the lost five minutes...

Six odd kilometres of fast riding (not rash, mind you, fast and rash are different), and I'd finally caught up with him at a traffic signal. A bus separated him from me... As the signal went green, he got off to a nice headstart again, and I got bottled up behind the bus. By the time I'd overtaken the bus, I'd lost sight of him again. Now, this is the part where you need to refer to the map. I caught up with him again, at another traffic light (The orange dot on the map). Now, to get home (blue dot), I could either take a right turn, and ride up a one way, or I could follow traffic rules and go straight. The straight was obviously longer. I hoped against hope that he would pick the straight road, giving me a crucial kilometre or so to overtake him. But he didn't. He decided that it was late enough for him to take the right and go against the one way. So he ended up taking the red path, the shortest way home. I thought about following him. Then I didn't do it. A younger cousin was sitting pillion, didn't want to be setting bad examples... Took the straight road.

Now, the straight road leads to a junction at which some construction work is in progress (It's been on for a while, no one has any idea what they're up to) . Due to this, the way home is the yellow path. Very long as you can see, not a chance in hell of making it home first. Resigned to my fate, I proceeded. And then, the gift of the gods! That very day, a straighter road had been opened up for traffic (the brown part). Suddenly, I had another path, the green one. It wasn't as short as the red, but it would defintely cut a couple of hundred metres and eliminate the time consuming U-turn. Yelling and whooping (I'm afraid I must've made quite a scene of myself that night), I made my way home. My heart was pounding in my chest, adrenaline pumping through my system... would he have made it home? Would the ride up the one way have delayed him long enough? Nervously took to the right turn, and then the left... to see...

No bikes parked in front of my house! I'd beaten him! In spite of the five minute handicap, in spite of the fact that I took the longer way home, I'd beaten him home! It was a good two minutes before he arrived.

It's a valuable lesson... Don't break traffic rules. It's dangerous, not only to you, but to countless others on the roads around you. There is no time limit for traffic rules. They're always in effect. I'm happy that nothing went wrong that day, but how easy would it have been for a car to be speeding down the one way, and to have hit my cousin?

(At this point, I'd like to make it clear that my cousin is no slowpoke on the roads, and that the displacement difference was a good 40cc (or 25% more) , which is large enough on Indian roads)

Remember, it's good to follow the rules. The gods will bless you!