iamjonnyking has decided to add this piece from the blog bearing his name, as that site is in the process of shifting servers, which may take a day. Just so you don’t miss out on the piece of this day, it has been added here – Enjoy
As I begin this piece, I am enjoying a summer in New Zealand, a moderate breeze, encircled with cloud; motivation enough to unleash my piece of flesh on unsuspecting family members – Yes, chest unfurled with plenty of sport.
Today has been a sporting smorgosboard on New Zealand television, with the National Hockey League’s, Winter Classic, finishing like it. The unique New Yoorkers a.k.a., the Rangers holding on to beat the Philadelphia Flyers at Citizens Bank Park.
ESPN is also in the midst of Bowl Week, with the battle for the BCS – the National Championship – between LSU and Alabama, early next week.
However, with the sun beating down, illuminating all in a Sydney skyline, Sachin Tendulkar is using his blade as a wand; with all but 11 on field Australians, hoping this is the day that this Bengali Tiger roars, even just once more.
That was then and this is some days later. Shirt is back on. Sport is awaiting its next session. Sachin will be back at the crease, with the same thought ruminating through my head.
Reflecting on the sporting pursuit, we appropriately spend the majority of the time digressing on events directly related to what takes place in the locale of the event. This is our focus. This is where our passions show their hand. This makes perfect sense.
However, it is also true that what takes place in the sporting context is very much affected by what transpires away from much of the glare of public opinion, unless… Unless the personal becomes very public. Then, it is all on. Life becomes a feeding frenzy for the latest details outside the white lines, as sport takes on a new personal twist, with the higher the profile, the grander the scoop.
Such recent considerations have encouraged thoughts relating to two Tigers, and the juxtaposition of a Tiger from Bengal with the Tiger just coming out of the Woods.
One of the storylines in the cricketing Australian summer is will he or won’t he. Sachin Tendulkar still standing on the precipice of a century of centuries – presently 51 in Tests; 48 in ODIs. The genesis of this destination is a generation away for some, even as his genius is for many more. This Bengal had a beginning in 1989, where he would debut against Pakistan in Karachi; a 16 year old young man with the world firmly at his feet. For all his artistry, majesty, class, and accomplishments on the cricketing field, an achievement that deserves serious reflection has been his ability to play appropriately outside this sporting context. In the manic world of Indian cricket, where the persona of the players reaches Grecian status, Tendulkar always seems to play with a straight bat, finding the middle.
As an affirmation in the surreal world of this sporting son, it should be no surprise that we find a recent reference of a culture’s obsession with an article on Sachin’s own son, doing his thing in the nets with the Indian side. Save the entitlement, the point this piece seeks to make is – that piece – has been given a living opportunity to be written. For all Sachin’s ability on the field; his conduct off the field deserves recognition. Sachin is offered the type of adoration only reserved for the deified, yet far from a despotic & insatiable desire for more; you sense a graceful restraint that longs for all the talk to be focused directly on his trade.
To be sure, this is a very removed perception of a kiwi-watching sporting scribe. However, having viewed his career from the free seats, the legacy lives on.
Four.
How are your woods off the tee? Maybe, you are more familiar with the woods next to the fairway?! Surely a sign of trouble on the scorecard.
As much of a fan of the Woods narrative between the greens, I was no fan of the Tiger when he was lost in the Woods. When the story was his game, I was taken by the dream of what seemed like an evolutionary and elevated pursuit. Tiger Woods was all flesh and blood, but even in College his game looked to have elements from another world. I watched on as he rode insurmountable, coming from another time zone to win another title, even in his amateur days.
When his bank account hit professional, his game was already on location; finally on the stage where he and his Father’s hard work could surely shine. The years, the titles, the majors; all showed that when Woods wanted it bad enough; his way became the way. The Nicklaus total of 18 majors was only a moderate mark on his track, where he would surely set a new record that all others could only privately conceive. Fourteen at the time, it seemed only a matter of time. What could possibly stop this relentless pursuit?
You know the account; a car-crash of the most personal kind was the open door to so much more.
Woods’ fall from a gracious position was as abject as it was brutal. As his personal life fell apart, so did his game. World number one for so long, it was unthinkable that the lottery could be won, and yet we watched on as his family, his body, his game, and his world, fell apart. When we all considered who could challenge his hold on world golf, few would have considered it would take a sporting suicide of sorts. In his final interview before the initial situation broke the silence, he would utter those infamous words about family always being number one. Just as the driving range is not the fairway of tournament play, the theory would be exposed by the practice, time and again.
Perfection is not the point; the impact of the personal on the professional; very much so!
Recently the narrative of Woods may have turned. Talk was that his game was in the process of a return. Reality proved that these words may be living, as while it was only a limited field, in a tournament of his own doing, Woods would feel alive again, where it ultimately seems to matter most.
Champion.
Two Tigers. Two unbelievably talented sporting souls. Two living on a world stage. Two examples.
One looking to the finish line. One looking to start… again
Whatever happens post this piece in the career of Woods, his two year’s of turmoil may be the loudest witness that although sport is won in a very public place; it can be lost where you most want it to stay private.
There is a consideration for all.
What Say You?
Until Next Time
iamjonnyking
