Recalling love of a game

I was 8 years old when I watched my first tennis match.

It was back home in India. The year was 1980. My family -- my

parents, my grandmother, my younger brother and myself -- sat in

front of a 19-inch black-and-white TV. It was the first week of July

and extremely hot and humid. So we didn’t want to watch TV in the

living room and crowded our parents’ bedroom, which was air

conditioned.

The picture on that TV was a little grainy, and we had to

constantly adjust the antenna to get decent transmission.

None of that mattered. Dinner happened by the way. It was way past

bedtime. But we watched mesmerized for three hours and 57 minutes as

Bjorn Borg, the broad-shouldered, mild-mannered superstar from

Sweden, and John McEnroe, a young, hot-headed American kid, battled

it out for the championship on the well-worn grass of Wimbledon’s

Centre Court.

I was probably too young to feel anything profound at the time.

But I remember I sensed a little something when Borg eventually won

the marathon game, one for the history books. The final score: 1-6,

7-5, 6-3, 6-7 (16-18), 8-6. The Swede, almost an iceberg in action

until that point, seemed to melt suddenly as he sank to his knees,

lifted his hands skyward and rolled on his back. The feisty McEnroe,

notorious for his on-court antics and tantrums, froze on the other

side of the net in a show of stoic acceptance.

It’s a scene that will forever remain embossed in my memory. I

remember I rooted for McEnroe, while the rest of my family wanted

Borg to win his fifth Wimbledon crown. They got what they wanted.

But in a way, I did too. It was the beginning of my love for a

sport I would continue to follow for the rest of my life. I watched

several Wimbledons after that, many more Grand Slams. I saw

17-year-old Boris Becker do a little jig when he became the youngest

ever to win a Wimbledon title.

I picture Steffi Graf’s smile as she lifted up the coveted trophy.

In the last 22 years, I’ve seen legends come and go, championships

won and lost. The game has given me many exciting moments. I even had

the chance to watch a U.S. Open Women’s Final live at Flushing

Meadows in New York City.

But it wasn’t until Wednesday that the 8-year-old in me got that

sensation of pure joy again. What brought it all back was an

Australian Open quarter final match between Andy Roddick of the

United States and Moroccan Younes El Aynaoui (last name pronounced

a-ya-na-wee).

After about three hours, the men had won two sets each. The stage

was set for a dramatic fifth set in which there would be no tie

breaker and the players would continue until one of them won with a

two-game difference. Neither yielded. Games rolled out like dice on a

weekend in Atlantic City. Each had chances to break the other, but

both came roaring back with blistering forehands, backhands and

oh-so-fine touch shots and brilliant volleys.

Roddick and El Aynaoui played 30 games in that one set. It ended

when the American won 21-19. The match, the longest ever and one of

the best ever played in Grand Slam history, ended five hours after

starting time. The players, both in top physical condition, hobbled

over to the net and hugged each other. It was a show of respect,

appreciation and sportsmanship. In the backdrop were thousands of

people who gave the players a standing ovation for several minutes.

Some of them were in tears.

I think I was smiling. Because, although I was sitting on the

couch in my apartment in Orange County, Calif., I felt like I was in

that small air-conditioned bedroom in India. As the crowd roared and

applauded, I felt the same rush as I did 22 years ago, and I felt

like that 8-year-old who was hypnotized by two strong men whacking a

fuzzy yellow ball.

But in my opinion, tennis is not all about who can hit that fuzzy,

yellow ball harder or better. Well, who am I kidding? It’s mostly

about that for the players -- and taking home truckloads of money.

But on Wednesday, watching Roddick and El Aynaoui talk after the

match, it seemed as if this match was a little more than that for

them. It was probably special, something they would remember with awe

and humility when they look back at their careers years for now.

As for the average tennis fan like me, it was a rare experience,

an unsurpassable feeling I thought I’d already had 22 years ago.

* DEEPA BHARATH covers public safety and courts. She may be

reached at (949) 574-4226 or by e-mail at [email protected].