Chasing daylight


No one likes the end, but everyone likes a good ending.

Back in 2002, Pete Sampras beat Andre Agassi in the US Open. No one knew it then, not even Pete Sampras, but it would be his last match ever. In 2003, he announced his retirement and the epilogue for the greatest rivalry of the 90s was written.

As much as we try and wish away the vice like grip that numbers have on us, our lives, well-being and forecasts are all swathed in data. Your health is measured by your weight, blood pressure, cholesterol and sugar levels. Your wealth is measured by your bank balance and future forecasts are measured by present performance. As much as we like to free ourselves from the encumbrances that figures and numbers impose on us, they still tie us down.

In the end, the richest guy doesn’t always win. But we realise that too late. We chase numbers, figures and balance sheets, not realising that while they maybe the most important thing, they may not always be the thing you are remembered for. If that were the case, why is Bill Gates chasing some kind of distant unicorn like eradicating malaria from the world? At what point does someone go from chasing the ephemeral forms of success to chasing the intangible forms of success?

If numbers told us everything, let’s see what these numbers mean yo you:



6-4, 3-6, 6-1, 3-6, 6-3.


Now let’s put some context to the numbers:

35. The oldest to win a Grand Slam in 43 years.

18. That is the record for the most number of Grand Slam wins.

6-4, 3-6, 6-1, 3-6, 6-3. That was the result of the Australian Open Finals between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal.

4. The number of years that have passed since Roger Federer won a Grand Slam title.

A 35 year old athlete and a 35 year old politician are viewed with the same contempt. The former is considered to have run out of steam and the latter is thought of as yet to gather steam. At 35, an athlete is vintage wine. They try to preserve their youth like it were something that if looked after, will never slip away from them. But while the fairness cream industry may have us believe that youth can be found, and preserved, in a bottle, reality paints a picture that is more believable. At 35, what Roger Federer accomplished what may have been statistically possible but yet, scarcely believable.

Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal maybe chasing a numerical but what they’re actually trying to outrun, like any athlete, is time.

How do you define vintage? The old? the tried and tested? When it comes to an athlete, it means that for a moment in time, they have turned back the clock and snatched a moment in time from their prime when their eyesight was better and their knees weren’t wobbly.

If 35 is old, what about 30? By comparison, it’s young. Rafael Nadal maybe younger but his body isn’t. His knees and wrists have been held together by surgeries and will.

If the first set was vintage Federer, the second set was vintage Nadal. Even those who took sides (I was rooting for Nadal), didn’t want the match to end so soon. 3 sets? Can’t this match just go on and on without end?

In the third set, Federer handed Nadal a 6-1 drubbing. It was surely the end. 6-1? That’s like being hit for 5 sixes in an over and being asked to bowl again.

When Nadal won the 4th set 6-3, a sense of normalcy was restored. Nice try Federer, thanks for all the memories but it’s time for Nadal to do the honours. You’re 35, what are you thinking?

5th set. In the last 3 games, Federer beat reality it its own game. He beat numbers, predictions, history, the odds.

Eugene Kelly was the CEO of KPMG when he was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and given 100 days to live. He wrote a book, Chasing Daylight, about how the diagnosis made him realise that a lot of things he had put a premium on – figures, accomplishments; all paled in comparison to what was truly important – things that couldn’t necessarily be touched or have a figure stamped on them to measure how valuable they were. What if he could have just a few more days in the sun to redo some things? Now that sunset had arrived so rapidly, could he reach for daylight again?

Daylight. That’s what we will all ultimately chase. Another chance, opportunity, the opening of a new door.

When Roger Federer crossed the court and hit a forehand so perfect that it seemed that all the tennis angels were singing hallelulaj, he wasn’t chasing another grand slam win.

Or immortality, riches, fame or recognition.

He was chasing daylight.




The Unforgiven


Maria Sharapova’s admission of doping stunned the sports world. In another corner of the world, Mohammad Amir, an immensely talented 18 year old Pakistani bowler who was caught taking money for spot fixing had served a 5 year ban was allowed to return to cricket. His re-entry to the game has been fiercely debated. Why are sportspeople held to a higher moral standard than the rest of us?

In his heyday, Michael Holding made grown men cringe and shudder. Years later, another pacer with immense talent and a bright future ahead of him made Michael Holding cry.

On a hot and humid February night in the recently concluded Asia Cup, India took on Pakistan in a low scoring encounter. Pakistan managed all of 83 runs. It should have been a walk in the park. That was until an older and hopefully wiser Mohammad Amir came thundering down and shook the Indian batting line-up, leaving them reeling at 8-3. India regained their sanity and went on to win the match. In that surreal passage of play, he hopefully made Michael Holding cry again. Cry tears of joy.

When he took 3 wickets in a span of 12 deliveries in a beautiful exhibition of pace and swing bowling, Mohammad Amir made the ball dance to his tune and caused a lot of Indian fans to switch off their television sets. In India, there are two ways to know if the cricket team is losing. One is people switching off their television sets when a match is on. Another is when you see kids playing on the road on the day of an important match. Then you know that the team is really losing.

Mohammad Amir had come back from the depths of hell, back to cricket, his fans and a future where hope had replaced darkness.

His descent into ignominy began in a very unlikely place.

The Lord’s Cricket Ground is a place where players are presumably in awe. Labeled the Home of Cricket, I would assume that it elicits somewhat of a near religious feeling among players who set foot inside its hallowed premises, like a Catholic looking up at the Sistine Chapel, or a Muslim who visits Mecca, or a Hindu who takes a dip in the holy Ganga.

It was on that very ground in 2010 that a young, bright and upcoming Mohammad Amir bowled a no-ball that shook the cricketing world.

No-balls in cricket are passé. But Mohammad Amir’s foot was some two feet in front of the crease and the replays drew sharp criticism from the commentators. During the break, Michael Holding, David Lyold and Nasser Hussain sat down to discuss the tempestuous no ball and Michael Holding said “it is just so sad, an 18 year old with that sort of talent to be getting involved in this.” He then almost broke down causing the channel to take a break until he could gather himself.

Investigations revealed that 3 Pakistani players on that tour, Mohammad Amir being one of them, had accepted money to under-perform in specific passages of play and added the term spot-fixing into our cricketing vocabulary. All of 18, Mohammad Amir was seen as a naive youngster who was lured into the sordid mess by his more experienced team mates.

After serving a 5 year ban, Mohammad Amir’s return to the sport was a hotly debated one. He returned and took off from where he left 5 years back. On seeing him, everyone wondered the heights he could have reached had he not traded 5 years of his life for a few thousand rupees. He missed a limited overs World Cup, two t20 World Cups and a host of other marquee events. And Mohammad Amir is just 23.

In sporting terms, Mohammad Amir is like someone who was handed a death sentence, put on death row and was finally found not to have committed a crime so serious that it warranted a death penalty. Others haven’t been as fortunate.

The legendary Pete Rose is still outlawed by the baseball association for his involvement in betting and frittered away a hall of fame career.

What of Lance Armstrong, who took the entire world for a ride on his cycle with his tale of cancer and survivorship and finally resorted to confessing his sins on a talk time show? He was dismissed from cycling with the following words “Lance Armstrong has no place in cycling.”

Olympian Marion Jones, who was found guilty of doping and cheque fraud and had her medals stripped is seeking to find redemption by speaking to youths about her fall from the podium to a jail cell.

Diego Maradona failed a doping test in the 1994 World Cup that ended his career.His heroics in the 1986 world cup where he scored the goal of the century and a few minutes later went onto score the infamous Hand of God against arch rivals England made him the folk hero Argentina was looking for. His feats on the field blindsided fans to his brushes with the law, drugs and turbulent personal life. That his digressions haven’t made him lose his iconic status makes one wonder if there really is a hand of god watching over him.

Whenever sport unearths a scandal, there is a fear that that it will open a Pandora’s Box.

Cricket’s shocking brush with match fixing came to light in 2000 when the Delhi police had tapped the phone lines of a known gangster and were stunned to hear the voice of the Hansie Cronje, the captain of the South African team and one of the most respected men in cricket. His fall from grace was swift and the investigation unearthed other players involved in the racket, many of whom weren’t prosecuted and got away. Another player involved in the mess was Mohammmad Azharuddin, India’s captain and one of the game’s most stylish batsmen. He was handed a life ban and went from national icon to national shame. He spent the next few years in isolation, ignored by former team mates and the cricket board. His come back to public life was through politics where got elected as a Member of Parliament in 2009.

So much for probity in public life.

Lance Armstrong’s suspension didn’t end with him alone. The Union Cycliste International (UCI) declared all results of the Tour De France from 1999-2005 null and void as they couldn’t segregate the dopers from the non-dopers. His sins are harder to forgive as he sugar coated them with his crusade against cancer. A revoking of his life ban is a distant dream at best.

Remember Ben Johnson, whose crash landing back to earth seemed even faster than this short-lived world record in the 1988 Seoul Olympics? The odds of his redemption are very slim with him testing for banned substances twice after 1988.


Maria Sharapova is the latest in the bandwagon of superstars to confess to doping. Doubts are being cast over how many of her victories were boosted by doping. Jennifer Capriati has already called her out as a cheat. A ban looms large and the tennis world that was struck by a fixing scandal a few months back is again going into a huddle and wade out of this mess.

The Board of Cricket Control of India which currently holds a monopoly in how world cricket is played and run had asked the International Cricket Council to shun the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) and opt for its own doping control program. The reason for doing so is quite strange. Cricketers in India are treated like royalty and their argument against out-of-competition testing is that it is an invasion on their privacy. Cricket isn’t a game that is played by too many countries and cricketers realise that while maybe gods in one country, they are just another face in the crowd when they go to another country. On the other side of the coin are the Rafael Nadals and the Christiano Ronaldos of the world who are superstars wherever they go but are fine with being subject to out-of-competition testing.

Doping agencies are like investigative agencies that need to constantly be one step ahead of the criminals and just like many investigative agencies, they are shaken from their stupor when the crime has already been committed.

The Indian Premier League opened a can of worms in 2013 when 3 players were caught for spot fixing and banned for life. It is rumoured that a list of players accused of fixing are lying in a sealed envelope in front of a Supreme Court judge. At the end of the mess, the Rajasthan Royals and the Chennai Super Kings were suspended for 2 years.

We are taught from a very young age that sport is something that holds itself to a higher moral standard. A politician who is caught in a sex scandal or for sending a nation to war without adequate proof isn’t censured. Bankers who caused pensioners to lose their savings and sent the financial world into a tailspin with their complicated algorithms walked away free with fat bonuses.

But the sportsperson who cheats sport seldom finds refuge.

Hansie Cronje leaving the courthouse sobbing where he was being questioned as a part of the King’s commission set up to investigate match fixing is one of the most enduring images of cheating in sport. He would die in 2002 in a plane crash. He was the face of South African cricket when they came out of cricketing exile after the apartheid years. No one imagined he would be the face of cricket’s darkest hour at the turn of the century.

The sad thing about sport is how everything that follows a scandal is viewed with scepticism. Any match that India lost after the match fixing scandal was dismissed as being fixed.

We cannot watch the next few tennis tournaments wondering to ourselves which player must be doping.

Why sport still remains something we still hold to a different standard is possibly because so many of our other institutions have failed us. Politics and religion have ceased to be the bastions of truth and hope that they once were. In a beautiful piece titled ‘The last flowering of amateurism’ sports writer Paul Hayward writes of how he wishes for a time when sport was devoid of its mass commercialisation and tales of steroid use. Referring to Roger Bannister’s 4 minute mile, he writes

“For my generation, who came to a life in sport when business had already completed its conquest, there is the nagging wish to have seen athletics, boxing, cricket or football before the mass commercialisation of games.

The wish is to stand not in a vast Olympic stadium wondering who is and who is not on drugs, but at Iffley Road with a pipe and a duffel coat. Just once.”

The biggest fear for me when playing cricket as a kid wasn’t losing. It was breaking the glass in someone’s window pane and being censured for it. Breaking the glass of someone’s house meant that play would be stalled indefinitely, sometimes for weeks.

It wasn’t even about winning or losing.

It was about just playing.

When tempers died down, we could resume playing.

Eventually we knew all would be forgiven. It was just a piece of glass that was broken.

It’s when trust gets broken that forgiveness is hard to come by.