Facing India’s top paddler a week out from his retirement
We meet at his academy inside the cavernous Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium in Chennai early this month, days after he announces the upcoming event in the city would be his last. He warms up by observing a bunch of kids who have just started their training session. He wears the gaze of a teacher supervising an array of students eager to catch the eye. When one of the them, her head barely visible over the table,sends a scorching forehand winner, the 42-year-old smiles. “Well done,” he says. Later in the session, he corrects the posture of another kid. It’s a rare glimpse into what his world will become from April 1. “This is what I want to do, going forward,” he would say later in an interview to this daily. “It kind of completes a circle. More than 35 years ago, when my head was barely clearing the table, one of the coaches was putting me through my paces.”
Sandwiched between Sharath playing teacher and looking forward to his future, he changes from formal wear to a jersey. Oh, he’s actually going to take this seriously? Betcha. When the time came to ask for an extra paddle for myself, he passes on one of his own but it comes with a significant caveat. “You may not be able to control it,” he says. “It will be way too fast.”
True to form, it flies off the paddle. Although, to be honest, that’s basically what happens irrespective of the racquet. Others may blame the equipment but this is definitely not a case of a bad workman blaming his tools. This is just a bad workman.
The minutes pass by. Forget trying to impart some spin, the only focus is on landing the small, round white ball in Sharath’s half. Because that genuinely feels like an accomplishment in itself. I become more emboldened and rip a backhand — my bellwether shot — down the line. It’s hit with zero conviction and a lot of prayers. It takes him by surprise and I win a point (we are not keeping score because that would be embarrassing but I’m not going to forget this moment or giving away this make believe moment in my career).
Sharath, though, has seen enough. He imparts some top spin on his serves (think Shane Warne on all those YouTube compilations) and picks up the pace a bit. The fully grown adult male standing 11 feet away has been reduced to a fully-clothed traffic cone. So, this is what it feels like, eh?
The final act, though, is a bit more humbling. “This is not going to work for me,” he says. “Just watch.” He asks a kid, probably not a day older than seven, to take this journalist’s place. “You want to see something quicker, right?”
It hurts. But he’s probably right. This is not going to work. This was never going to work.