Wabi-Sabi and 2 Sporting Legends

I recently came across Wabi-Sabi, which is a quintessential Japanese aesthetic or frame of thought. It is based on accepting and embracing transience and imperfection. Among many other things, it is the beauty of things imperfect, impermanent and incomplete. I couldn’t help but relating this to a couple of recent sporting stories. One that had The perfect ending, and the other which left people wanting.

November, 2013. The West Indies cricket team visited the Indian shores for a concocted test series that originated out of the blue, cutting short a mouthwatering showdown between India and South Africa. The reason being that Sachin was on 198 tests, had announced his retirement, and it was supposedly fitting that he get his farewell in his home ground, Mumbai. And quite conveniently, 2 test matches were scheduled enabling the Little Master to finish on exactly 200 tests.  

So, when it was all said and done (which didn’t take much time, thanks to West Indies’ abysmal capitulation), we had the customary lap of honour, trophies and mementoes from all possible organizations,  a truly emotional farewell speech, and a “why was this series played” trophy presentation ceremony. Sachin Tendulkar had called it a day with 200 tests and 100 international centuries to his name. Perfect numbers. The chase for which had a billion of us on the edge of the seat for a year or 2. The ending was perfect and beautiful, but not quite.

July, 2014. Wimbledon Finals. Novak Djokovic vs Roger Federer. It wasn’t quite the dream Fed-Nadal finals, as unknown Aussie teenager, Nick Kyrgios, played the game of his life to knockout Nadal in the Round of 16. But it was a dream that Federer and millions of his fans had chased together since the magical Wimbledon win of 2012. An 18^th Grand Slam and 8^th Wimbledon. It was just the Djoker lying in between the elusive landmark.

This Wimbledon, Federer was at his vintage best. The artist was painting the greens of the center court with the most delicate of strokes and elegance, as his foes felt the privilege of losing to him, one after the other. Federer had reached the finals with effeminate ease. But, that was to be it. In spite of a valiant effort, the artist couldn’t quite give the finishing touches to his canvas. The Djoker was at his gritty best, RFed was at his beautiful best. But that day, Endurance overcame skills; Doggedness overcame artistry; Djokovic overcame Federer. The number stays at 17 and 7. The picture of Roger Federer looking on as the events of the day unfolded with a solitary tear rolling down his cheek has to be among the most sadly beautiful moments in sporting history.

Federer knows who Sachin is. 

Now, both these sporting icons are legends of the game. Arguably the best ever to have graced their respective sports. One, whose story has come to an end, the other, who is probably past his best days in the sun. The twilights of both their careers have been a story of a chase. One chased the perfect numbers of 100 and 200, while the other is chasing one more Wimbledon, One more Grand Slam, after having reached close more times than one can count. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he never reaches that elusive, make-believe brass ring.

Yes, I say make-believe because Federer winning that 18^th Grand Slam, or rather not winning it will not make him any lesser a player than he already is. The chase for it and falling short is indeed sad, but if we look back, those are moments that will live with us forever.  

Similarly, Sachin not scoring that 100^th ton, or not finishing on 200 tests wouldn’t have made him any less a player than he already was. His 100^th ton was an abominable innings in a match against Bangladesh which we lost, and the 200^th test was against a weak team in a series that no one will remember with any fondness. The numbers are a testimony to his greatness, legacy and longevity. But the moments, not quite so. Personally, I would’ve preferred for him to finish on 99 international centuries or 198 tests, than be a part of a meaningless chase along with a billion of us.   

A sport is about moments, not chasing milestones and numbers. Don Bradman immortalized 99.94. Federer might end up immortalizing 17 (or 18, one more Grand Slam, please?), Michael Schumacher immortalized 7. None of these numbers are perfect. But they’re beautiful because they are flawed, imperfect and inadequate. The Japanese have got it right. Wabi Sabi should be the essence of life.