12 October 2006

If Indiana Jones played tennis, this wud be his story.

One of the more forgettable victories says the after taste in my mouth. Staring down the smoking barrel at 4-6 and 4-5 in the second set, one break down with our opponents serving for the match, It was pretty much all over for us. But we revolted with vigor and a fair bit of finesse, i'd like to think. Then why forgettable you ask? Sit back as I start from the beginning.

After a closely fought first set, which involved a point in which we graciously accepted the opponents call and literally gave away a point, we immediately went a break down in the second. Somehow amid bitter feelings of frustration, which seem to so easily cloud my mind in such moments, I and my partner stirred up a mini comeback and broke back. Our first ever break of serve after one hour of tennis, which was increasingly beginning to look impossible. But things were just beginning to come to a boil. Even before we could say, "we did it", they broke us back and again regained the lead and this time consolidated it. Three towels worth of sweat and another heated exchange (courtesy of yours truly's repeated intermittent towel breaks , which was tactfully resolved by my cool as a cucumber partner) later, we were receiving serve to stay in the match. How we managed to bite the bullet and come out guns blazing, me hath no clue, but we went on to win three games in a row and take the set 7-5. Game on. By now fists had been pumped, testasterone fuelled "come on's" blurted out and racquets smashed aplenty. Mostly by me.

The rules regarding timeouts are simple, We have 2 hrs to play and if the match is undecided by then the team with more number of games to their name wins. We were tantalizingly poised at 7+4 (11) and 6+5 (11) each. With time now becoming a factor, I knew we had to hold serve in the third to stay ahead in the math. I put myself to a test of nerves and served first and failed miserably. Two double faults and I had choked like a sissy. No offence intended but I felt like a 6 yr old girl wearing her new skirt and frolicking in the garden. 0-1 down again....was this fight even going to end, leave alone in our favor? We held our nerve yet again; and I am begining to run out of idioms for fight backs, and almost miraculously broke back. Again we did our 3 games in a row thing and were decisively up 3-1. I had to serve one last time before time out and it wouldnt matter even if i didnt hold....and I didnt. The 6 yr old was still happily frolicking in the gardens in my head. But we won...4-6, 7-5, 3-2. Thats 14-13 if you do the math right, and believe me i wasnt even counting right during that wild third set. We walked out of the court more relieved then jubiliant. I guess the reason I tag this as forgettable is bcoz I felt like a big fat chicken and a bawling, screaming, miscreant who was dragged across the victory line by his partner at the same time.

I dont know If i'm more mentally exhausted or physically; but I do know this is the kind of adventure I want in my life; turbulent, overwhelming and passionate yet the kind that makes you grin in retrospect. Kinda like Indiana Jones' life.

- Big Fat "Grinning" Chicken.

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