Amid the tears that flowed on Centre Court yesterday — and who said that the Swiss are an inscrutable, impassive lot? — was one telling comment from Roger Federer. At the time it sounded vainglorious; in truth, it was nothing but the truth. I’m liked, Federer said, because I’m different.And the good news in that is that sport, with all the billions of dollars riding on it, still has a place for those who can be different. Or, as in the case of Formula 1, has billions of dollars riding on something different. And sometimes, as in the case of hockey, an emotional pull for that something different to erase the sterility of the mundanely successful.In Federer’s case, being different was not an option; it’s the only way he knows. Ambushed on his way to the peak by big servers, Federer outwitted them with a healthy dose of serve and volley and guile and glide. Not for him the witless, artless serves that whizz past and kill the game; bringing to mind the tennis of not just Sampras but those gone before — witness the one-handed backhand — Federer created a different picture with every brush, every colour at his disposal.Philippousis, bless his crocked knees, wouldn’t have evoked too many misty eyes.By sheer coincidence, unless the Sporting Gods were controlling the wheel of fortune, there was something similar happening across the English Channel. Yes, a Schumacher had won the French Grand Prix but no, it wasn’t Michael, he of the perfect teeth, perfect mind and perfect car. Instead it was the kid brother and, equally important, it was Williams instead of Ferrari.I have nothing against Schumi Sr, nor against Ferrari. But those who run Formula 1 must be thanking the Sporting Gods that the predictability of last season has been avoided. When he won the French GP last year, Schumi Sr had also wrapped up the 2002 season title; the six races that followed were rendered meaningless. This time around, with Ferrari and Williams separated by three points, each subsequent race is crucial.Different is also how the Indians play hockey. What is making headlines around the hockey world is not that the Indians are winning but the manner in which they are doing so. Raised on a diet of tactical, percentage hockey, through which most teams have tasted success, fans in Europe were starved of the free-flowing game. That’s what prompted the world hockey chief to congratulate Dhanraj and his team after they won the four-nation tournament in Germany recently.This isn’t a plea for beauty in sport. If Federer’s game of subtleties and nuances is appreciated today, so too was the power game of Becker and his ilk when they burst on the scene. We would stare, open-mouthed, as the ball pinged across the TV screen and wonder, ‘‘Where did he come from?’’There’ll always be beauty in sport, just as even the most hideously remixed RD Burman song will always have the template of a brilliant melody. The metronomic precision of Australian cricketers can’t detract from the savage beauty of Gilchrist and Hayden in full flow. But every once in a while, even as you applaud their record-breaking successes, you wish for something different. That’s why we like Federer, need Ralf and yearn for Dhanraj.
