Of the marathon and hockey

Gerhard Rach’s zinger against the Indian Hockey Federation has left me intrigued. The German coach has called the IHF ‘a madhouse’. While a great many have suspected this for sometime, just what does he mean? Does a helpless KPS Gill runs a bin full of loonies, or has it become one because of him?
More seriously, my surmise is that Rach, rancid after rejection, chose to precipitate this controversy.Why did he wait till he was given the heave-ho before spilling the beans, as it were?
It would be scurrilous to believe that Gill & Officialdom don’t care about the sport. However, the problem is that the IHF is so beleaguered by its own internecine politics that anybody can take pot shots at it today.
Nevertheless, this can change with a little effort and a new vision. Over the last two decades, Indian hockey has been like the floo-floo bird, “which flies backward and is more interested in where it has been than where it is going.�
The onus again is on Mr Gill, to make Indian hockey bigger than Rach, Rajinder, Jothi, Dhanraj and, well, Gill.
And finally, from Monday, tennis action and the magic of Roger Federer. Is he the best male player of all time? At last year’s Wimbledon, Andrew Castle of the BBC said that Federer’s “only weakness is heavy metal music.� At this year’s Australian Open we should be closer to a conclusion.
Athenian soldier Pheidippides ran 25 miles to announce the defeat of the Persians to his countrymen, then died of exhaustion immediately after. The truth-value of this saga is suspect but there isn’t a better example of human endeavour and will power; of triumph even in death.
“We must be immortal, as far as we can,� is the Aristotelian axiom that finds fascinating expression in the running of the marathon. No other sporting event captures the ‘meaningful madness of life’ better than this race, for in many ways the marathon is a metaphor of existence itself.
Physically gruelling and psychologically daunting, it is not for the weak-bodied or the feeble-minded. It requires virtually uninterrupted training and 24x7 motivation. Very few dare the distance. Only those who survive the blisters, the aching muscles, the bursting lungs and the avalanche of selfdoubts are known to experience the ‘second wind’, which takes them to the finish line.
Most marathoners will concede that they race against themselves. The real triumph, as in life, is in lasting the distance, head held high. Unlike sprinters who exhibit musclepower and bristle with aggro, marathoners seem introspective and philosophical. I might add ‘clean’ and modest too. Steroid-induced bulge would be a handicap over 26-plus miles, and surely no endurance guy would wear a tattoo like 100m hero Maurice Greene which reads GOAT i.e. Greatest Of All Time. To a marathoner, it would mean just that: being a goat.
Running long distances, it is said, helps understand the pains and pleasures of life better. “If you want to know what you’ll look like after ten years, look in the mirror after you’ve done a marathon,� says the wit Jeff Scaff.
Since I am running only the 7km Dream Run, there is no merit in such self-appraisal. Instead, I will be watching Anil Ambani closely after he finishes his 42 km today.