OFF-VERDICT

It was the highlights of the second (or maybe third?) round match of the ongoing French Open, between Roger Federer and a certain Falla whose first name I failed to see (blame me!) and I was fresh from listening to ‘Born to Run’, the Springsteen album and was kind of in a Euphoric state, the ideal kind to write something free of spite and I thought this could be the right time that I clarify my long-contested stand on the status of Federer, and whatever he’s hailed to be.

Let me get to the point, and I think this time my point would be well-felt positives rather than churned-out wails and cries. I’m seeing the man (that’s an acknowledgement in itself, coming from me) after a while now, I’m not the kind that keeps tabs on non-Grand Slam ties when I don’t give a shit about the Slams themselves, it’s the sport to me than the Slam, and it’s the players who ultimately matter. And Roger Federer, as much as he is a champion or world-conqueror, is still a ‘player’, one whose game has risen considerably than when I last watched him play, I mean he’s lighter on his feet, he’s moving better and he’s more aggressive. Yes, he’s gotten more aggressive and that’s frightfully cool, considering I found his usual laid-back rallying nature slightly disgusting, wishing he could be pounded to pulp by the ‘mightier’ versions. But now he’s going front, pretty well-focused, more adventurous and I find that pretty likeable and admirable in him. Yes, for a change I was quite fascinated.

But does that mean I would cohere and coincide with everyone else in the universe, the whole fraternity that’s at his feet? No, and that’s a resounding one at that! My appreciation of his has this Salieri-kind of way, like his appreciation of Mozart and his prodigy, which didn’t arise out of denial or (although a little did show) cheaper jealousy, but of competence. The fighter in me says I would not give in, or bow to Federer’s skill because that would mean bowing down and admitting defeat and I am not losing! It isn’t an intention to side with every player who plays him, but it is definitely one to see him beaten, to conquer and not just ‘defeat’, for it’s a task in itself to get the better of someone who is proving to be so well-versed and equipped, not just to stave off defeat but to achieve victory, humbling victory. I do not care about him as a brand or as an establishment, a faith or a religion, I want him overthrown and that too in the way that he wouldn’t want that to happen: I do not want him defeated, I want him ‘won’ over.

For all I know, the world can liaise (as much as its fakery could propel it to) with the winner, but I don’t stand my ground or find my feet beside the vanquished, or the ‘defeated’. I see myself as a person before a person, and that person is a rival because he is a task, something that would incite not only contest with him, but also contest with oneself aimed at achieving self-betterment. I see him as a rival, a true rival because he reminds me of one (who I know in flesh and blood) and that would forever egg me on to draw blood, to kill him and stamp him to the ground with his face down in deep shit.

And that’s what champions deserve.