Snippets from Yesterday: 2 Nos.

First, A Phone Conversation with a Good Friend

"Macha, I really like that song from Jaane Tu Ya Jaane na..."
"The Aditi song?"
"Yeah - I mean, there's something about songs with people's name in them..."
"Hey Mickey, You're so fine..."
"No da."
"The Obama Song by the Obama Girl?"
"Hey..."
"Monicaaaaaaaaa, O My Darling!"
"Wait..."
"O Raveena raveena raveena oooooo."
"Dai..."
"Oye Raju, pyaar na kariyo, dariyoooo, dil toot jaata hai."
"Um, I was thinking more along the lines of 'Dil Kya Kare', or 'Tu hai Meeeeeri Kiran!' or 'Meri Bheegi Bheegi Si...'
"My name is Manjeetttu."
"Hey da, something like 'Onnavidaaaaa'!"
"En peru Padaiyappa..."
Click.
Jokes apart, there is something about songs with names in their titles. Like right now, after listening to the Aditi song six times in a row, I want to find an Aditi and sing it to her. (No, I didn't feel similar reactions with the Mickey song.)
***

Second, The Day of the Freaks

(Yes, yes, that title is inspired by this. Yes, yes, I haven't read it yet.'Yet' being the crucial term. Just acquired a copy. Also, this is a long and rambling post. You are warned.)

I spent a fruitful last evening eating cheese sandwiches, with homemade ice lemon tea and watching two sporting freaks weave their magic around much-fancied opposition - the first was a 22-year-old upstart with a forehand that caused many tornadoes, none bigger than the one yesterday; and the second was a, um, a spinner (in the most liberal sense of the term), who reminds me of a Mak Lubricant advertisement with the tag line, "Legspin, Offspin, aur yeh bowled!" I watched a lot more of the Spaniard than the Lankan.

I was nervous even before the evening started. I felt underprepared for the final, and that was largely because I had watched only one Federer game this year, and that was his first round match against Hrbaty. A the first set got under way, and there was this torrent of whirling topspinners, scurrying, indefatigability and improbable angles, the nervousness grew. Federer wasn't playing all that badly, but Nadal still got his nose in front. Federer gave it his all, to be fair, but Nadal made him play one extra ball each time, and the errors came. The second set was more of the same angles, the body-serves, the gruelling down-the-line backhands. I could feel it two continents away - the champion's will weakened, as breakpoint after breakpoint slipped through his fingers.

At two sets down, depressed as hell, I switched to the cricket. Sehwag - 59 off 33, the TV read. I was stunned! Along came Mendis bowling his Right Arm Guile - for that's what he bowls. And its not just variations in direction of turn, but in length, flight and pace. One over, and Sehwag and Yuvraj were out. Before I could digest that news, Raina and Sharma fell. Now, both channels were depressing.

I switched back to the tennis and watched Federer grind out service games, and spill chances on Nadal's serve. It was going well till the ninth game. After looking comfortable for most of the set, Federer got himself into 15-30. He barely wriggled out of that when the rain came. I gathered that Nadal had chased down each ball, and used the wind to his advantage to disturb Federer. And Federer refused to play the slice return. I was aghast, and needed some consoling. I called a friend, great Federer fan, but he sounded gloomier than me. Vijay Amritraj spoke of mental blocks. I logged on to orkut, and checked out the Federer community. That was most distressing - most people were already speaking of revenge next year (often in Portuguese). What gave me confidence was the Goran-Henman game in the 2001 semifinal. Goran came back a different player after the rain break.

Federer, too, came back with a vengeance. He played a few brilliant points, as he had done in the game until then, but ensured that he didn't allow his serve to be broken. After playing a solid tie-break, he unravelled more drama in the fourth. On each Championship Point, I felt more nervous than I had ever done in my life. And when he saved one with the shot of the match - a bachkand down-the-line, I was convinced that he would win.

The fifth set, all was even, when rain came again. The Borg-McEnroe tiebreak aptly played in the break. The second break hadn't changed the tense atmosphere - it was gloomier than ever before, and the players produced tennis that only they could produce. This rivalry beats all that I've seen in my life. Sampras-Agassi was a stop-start, and there were times when one was better than the other. On Sampras' home turf, Agassi couldn't make a dent. In this rivalry, Federer doesn't have a home turf anymore. And Nadal sits proudly on two thrones. Just last year, people spoke of invincibility, ultimate greatness and everyone on the men's tour fighting for second spot. Only a fool or an optimist would do so today.

What makes Nadal so special? He's got this style that's entirely his own - I don't think there is a single player with that forehand, with that superhuman athletic ability and the sheer tenacity to gnaw away at a player's will. He's also got this uncanny court sense - he sees passes and winners that others cant see, he is excellent at guessing where the next ball will come, and when the rallies get longer, he uses this same court sense to small dents on the opponent's hits until he creates a chance for a winner. Above all, he hits the ball so bloody hard. So, if his unorthodoxy doesn't trouble you, the weight of his hitting sure will.

All unorthodox players need a second, more consistent, weapon to make up for players getting used to their unorthodoxy. Nadal has two - his backhand that hardly ever fails him, and his ability to retrieve. Anil Kumble, another bowler who would fall under the category of Right Arm Guile had many such weapons - his accuracy, his lionheartedness, his love for the longest spells, and his supremely sharp brain. Mendis needs to develop these weapons to sustain himself over a period of time. In the one-day game, when players are trying to take him on, he might get away easier. But in the Test matches, when a Rahul Dravid decides that he will wait endlessly for the bad ball and just block everything else, or a Laxman begins to read his mysterious fingers like he read Warne's, he might not be this effective.

The true test of an unorthodox player comes then - when he has to adapt to newer parameters and better opponents. Nadal came out with flying colours yesterday, when he showed why he was better than an unorthodox Fabrice Santoro, and put his name amongst the greatest in tennis history. Kumble did it when he picked up all those wickets on a comeback in Australia. Chanderpaul has been doing it for nearly two seasons now scoring runs everywhere and against everyone. Mendis, therefore, has a fair distance to go.