My Tribute

Mr Agassi Only once have I laboured through the wee hours of the morning to stay awake and watch you play. But then, you didn’t play football for AC Milan. O Come to think of it, Iv never ever switched on the TV just to check whether you’d won or not. But again, you weren’t your wife Steffi Graf or for that matter, Pete Sampras to command such allegiance from me. The truth is I never really cared. Atleast, I didn’t till last September, the day you said that maybe youd never play at the Open again, where they say, you loved most to play. Remember that night, in front of a sold out crowd you rallied from two sets down to beat James Blake. Poor chap, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Not one person outside his his own box cheering his heroics. That too in his own country. But then, he should’ve known what he was up against. The last remnant of, arguably, the greatest era in tennis. I remember that week still. Three five setters in four days. Each of them as physically taxing as the previous one. Each against the hardest hitters in tennis, all atleast ten years younger than you. And I still remember that Sunday, 52 sundays before yesterday. When after those gruelling battles, you came to the last frontier. Roger Federer. Of course, every athlete would want to sign off in style. Achieving what gets crudely dismissed as the impossible. And what better way to show that than beat the master. I think that’s when the admiration started. When I was young, too young that in my fantasies, only bad boys wore earrings, only bad boys married film stars, only bad boys pulled up tee shirts to display their sneakers and only bad boys beat Pete Sampras, you were the ultimate bad boy of sport. Disgust turned to hatred when you beat Pete to titles quite often. Hatred turned to sadistic mirth when you ruined your own career by simply being ‘yourself’ and slipped to way down in the rankings, much deeper than I would have ever prayed for. (And I used to pray for my stars, and for you, though for different fortunes) I think the first wharf of approval came when you won the French open, cementing your place in history. I started supporting you after the dream final of 2002. The last Agassi Sampras clash (not least because on that day, you lost, and Sampras was lost ever since) But last year was the best of Agassi. Agassi the teacher. Agassi the inspirer. Who proved that nothing in life is impossible, not even getting Roger Federer to miss the sidelines, if pursued with passion. That was the best lesson Id learnt in a year. And one lesson Ill never forget. Die another day! Maybe you’re too old. Maybe everybody’s written you off. Maybe the mountain in front of you looms larger than life size mountains. But none of these decide your fate. That you don’t deserve to die today. Maybe tomorrow you wont be there. But that’s only tomorrow! You faltered on that day. But I dont have any regrets. Atleast you fought gallantly. You lost like a Man. On your feet. Not like most of the other finals we get to watch these days(including yesterday). In any case you hadn’t much to prove. At the end of maybe, one of the longest careers in tennis(Lets forget Navratilova for a moment) A career in which you changed from the brash teenage icon, to the mature adult we have today. You’re still not my favourite sportstar. I still wont spend the rest of my life defending every slight somebody makes against you. But one thing is sure, you’ve inspired me like few other living people have And that’s my tribute.