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Journalism of Courage
I might as well have been that unintelligible alien from Mars, as the rest of the crowd yelled, quot;Anna, Anna 8230;quot; The reason: I was yelling, quot;Go Leander, go8230;quot; The teenagers around wore a look that suggested, How can a normal guy scream for anyone but Anna, when the Goddess is in attendance?
Maybe. But it was different for me. I saw Leander make his Davis Cup debut; I was there when he nearly won an Olympic medal in 1992; and then I wrote about it all when he did win a bronze four years later at the Atlanta Olympics. And now this 8212; two Wimbledon titles in a day!
At stake for Leander was a separate page in history books, and for me a chance to ensure a story I could dine out on forthe rest of my life.
There is possibly more about me here than Leander8217;s achievements. But then, what do you expect, when you now know everything about what Leander8217;s achieved and nothing of what I have?
To begin at the beginning. I was in London for only a few days and despite his busy schedule our busy Tennis Correspondent managed to get me a ticket for Court One on Sunday afternoon and then patronisingly added, quot;You may be lucky and get to see a Girl8217;s or Boys final or maybe an Over-35 match. The rest of the finals are at Centre Court.quot; I couldn8217;t complain, for Centre Court tickets were going for upwards of 1,000 pounds from scalpers. And my colleague had paid three and a half pounds 8212; he got a 50 per cent discount on the strength of being a journalist.
He bought the ticket on Wednesday. It poured on Thursday and Friday. Match schedules went topsy-turvy; there were too many finals for Sunday and the men8217;s doubles got scheduled for Court One on Sunday! Leander and Mahesh made the final. The rest ishistory. Now for the story of my lifetime.
In the morning, I clicked lots of pictures with the camera Canon loaned me 8212; as also many other spectators 8212; during the men8217;s doubles. Lee and Hesh 8212; called the Indian Express8217; on the circuit, in case you didn8217;t know and I, despite my association with this paper, had nothing to do with the nickname 8212; made mincement of their opponents in the last three sets after losing the first in a heart-wrenching manner. One in the bag, one more to go. More strawberries and cream, and Pimms, please.
The evening mixed doubles final was the one I shall cherish; the one time I really savoured being a spectator instead of a reporter having to burst a blood vessel keeping a deadline, knowing it was well past midnight as Lea and Lisa inched their way to history as Gorgeous Anna looked more and more forlorn. Never before have I enjoyed seeing a beauty in distress.
Even as I reduced myself into a minority of one cheering for Leander and Lisa, I suddenly realised there were afew other Indian supporters, who had by now found courage to say words other than quot;Anna, Anna8230;quot; It doesn8217;t behoove a professional sports journalist to be taking sides at a Wimbledon final. But what the hell, I was also making my debut 8212; spectating at Wimbledon.
And now for that last bit, which will ensure a good after-dinner audience for the rest of my life: At the post-match press conference 8212; I sneaked in despite not carrying a media card; old habits die hard 8212; Leander hugged and thanked me. Pray, for what? quot;Thanks for all that cheering. I saw you right in front and heard you all through. It was great.quot; Boom! Was it Leander who had won a Wimbledon title or me? Maybe it was just a nice gesture on Leander8217;s part, or maybe he really meant it. I8217;ll take the latter option.
