CHENNAI: Within the broad world of sports journalism, there exists a niche form of writing. Participatory journalism. It's when scribes duel with athletes — professionals with records under the belt — to get a first-hand look into what it's like to face some of the best in the world.
One of the most famous examples of this genre was published by George Plimpton after he faced off against Archie Moore, a boxing champ. Plimpton, who pitched to one of baseball's greatest hitters (Willie Mays) in a bid to understand his world better, was no stranger to facing some of the sport's finest. So the editor of the Paris Review fought against Moore. The latter, rather predictably, left the former with a bloody nose and some damage before the bell cut through the ring.
Table tennis isn't a combat sport but this hack is attempting to do something similar; face a pro. Not just any pro but India's No. 1 player, owner of multiple medals across events and decades and somebody who has been to five Olympics. A Sharath Kamal.
Why? Since the turn of the millennium, this country has fallen in love with various cricketers, several shooters, couple of tennis stars, a plethora of badminton players and one long-haired javelin maverick. One week out from Sharath's retirement, he's one of the very few paddlers from the country to have felt the love usually reserved for sportspersons from other more glamorous fields. Also, facing off against Sharath would help this scribe better understand the only pincode he has known — close to a table tennis table — for the entirety of this century.
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.
