Rediscovering the joy in the dismay

I just saw Andy Roddick dump Marat Safin out of the Australian Open in the 3rd round in 4 sets, including 2 tie-breakers. The match ran over 3 hours, and the quality of tennis was outstanding from both players. I've always had a soft corner for the temperamental types of players and teams (somebody did some research on this...I'll try and dig up that article in another post), and Marat has been one of my favourites ever since he dismantled Sampras in that amazing US Open final in 2000.

But going into his 28th year now, he's proven himself to be an underachiever of colossal proportions. Even before Federer came around and started winning everything, Safin was playing hide-and-seek with himself and with his fans, squandering his career away, while winning over hearts wherever he went with his supremely uncomplicated and unconquered nature. He turns 27 on January 27, and he will have, to show for nearly a decade of efforts, 15 titles, including 2 Grand Slams, which is both surprising, and not-so-surprising.

Today, he produced some enthralling tennis, but was defeated by a player whose combination of skill and method proved too good for his largely inspired, yet inconsistent, performance. It was the second tennis match that I watched live on TV after arriving in the US (the first being Federer's dismissal of Blake in Shanghai), and the moment of my favourite's loss brought with it feelings very familiar, which had been lost somewhere for the past few months.

Back in college, competing with a pack of guys who were very nearly at the same level as me, victory and defeat were regular ingredients of a memorable period of my life. I've not been a good loser, ever, in the sense that I lacked the desirable calmness and stoicism in the hour of defeat, even though I never retained even a smidgen of ill-will against anybody I lost to, and generally recovered well after a loss. However, the flood of self-reproach and dismay made THAT moment a very hard one to live through.

Since joining grad school, I haven't been involved in any competitive activity outside academics, and those days had receded into the distant past. I've often wondered at the emotional changes I've undergone, some of which I may not even be aware of. An existence devoid of any strong emotions doesn't feel like me at all. And it took Marat's defeat to awaken me to this realization. It feels so good to experience the upwelling of blood in the veins and tears in the eyes.

To rehash a cliche, I feel alive again!