The Sportsman in me and other Beasts
By
Gyan
C A Fernando
Illustrated
by N. Senthilkumaran
“Success is not really important. Everyone loves success. Everyone
wants to do things well. But we all know that people are really good at doing
things badly. Failure is the thing that we are best at. This is the difference
between people and animals and we must not think that failure is bad.”
Stephen Pile, the author of “The Book of
Heroic Failures”
I achieved my first major and historical victory
in the field of sports; a long, long time ago in August 1959, when I come last
in the Sack Race at the Sports Meet day at my old school, cheered by all!
I
had started off well and was doing well as the “one-before-the-last” when an
unsporting guy, who was running last, overtook me just 10 yards from the
finish! I hit him! It is not easy to win a fistfight when standing in a sack.
In retrospect I think that he did me a great favour.
To this day more people remember me than they
do the winner of the Sack Race, whose name even I have forgotten. Nobody cared
about the guy who won!
They
all cheered me!
Nobody Likes a Winner
The
Sports Meet day was a major event in the school calendar in those days. There
was a lot of preparations beforehand and the fact that this was a combined
event, with the girls of the Convent School next door taking part, gave us a
good deal of impetus. I did enjoy the Sports Meet but winning was not uppermost
in my mind.
My
Uncle Damien, who was only about seven years older than I am, was also a good
sportsman and excelled himself by coming last in the bicycle race.
He
had style, though. He had removed the mudguards from his bicycle in the belief
that it improved the aerodynamics (correct!) and that it would impress the
girls (wrong!). He probably realized his mistake when it rained heavily just
before the start of the race and the whole track became mired. As the race started, we could see that he was
in some difficulty. The unguarded wheels sprayed up mud.
He
crossed the finish line last, covered in mud and looking like a Swamp Beast
from a cheap horror film.
Needless
to say that Uncle Damien got a standing ovation, probably very much to his
surprise!
Whilst
most people’s memory of winners can be short, it is remarkable that losers quite
often leave enduring memories. I am sure you have heard of “Eddy the Eagle”
Eddie, who had never seriously skied before but managed to compete in the
Olympics.
My Hero, Senhor Irandir
Then
there is my all-time sporting hero Senhor Isidore Irandir, who is famous in his
native country of Brazil. Strongly religious, he was the goalkeeper in an
important fixture between his team Rio Preto of Sao Jose, against Corinthians
of Sao Paulo at the Bahia Stadium in the 1970’s.
An
un-sporting striker in the opposing team, Roberto Rivelino, whose name nobody
really cares to remember, took control of the ball and kicked it from the
halfway line as soon as the Referee blew the whistle to start the match.
Our
hero, Senhor Isidore Irandir, meanwhile, had other important things on his
mind. “The ball went past the ear of Senhor Irandir, while he was on his knees
finishing pre-match prayers in the goalmouth”. The goal went in exactly 3
seconds from the start of the match, classing it as one of the fastest goals in
the history of the game!
Senhor
Irandir subsequently received the title of “The Most Religious Goalie”.
My Other Hero, Sanjeeva
My
only son, Sanjeeva, was a bit of a disappointment in sports in that he excelled
in everything that he took part in, causing considerable friction on the home
front. He would come first in everything and would come home with all sorts of
trophies. This made him rather full of his own importance.
His
forte happened to be long distance running, by the way.
It
was a serious disappointment to me. I told him about my “win” in the Sack Race.
“Shut up, Dad” he said. There were arguments between Father, Son and Mother.
I
had more or less given up on him when one day, completely out of the blue, he
entered the record books!
At
an important meet and at the starter’s signal Sanjeeva was nowhere to be seen.
It later transpired that he was actually still “warming up” at the other end of
the field when he realized it was time to get to the starting line. By the time
he realized this and sprinted to the starting line, his fellow runners were
fast disappearing over the horizon. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Hopefully,
this incident taught him good sportsmanship: That of losing!
At
this point I would like to get back to my own career as a brilliant, all-round
sportsman. At the time I lost…, or rather won the Sack Race, I had no interest
in girls. Things of course changed and by the time pimples appeared on my face
I had developed an interest in sports. The reasons should be obvious.
All
my friends were good in all types of sports. Wije could play both Football and
Cricket at the same time and Sumana, in spite of his short stature, could play
center forward whilst being referee as well. Terry played basketball and frequently
dislocated his Coraco-Acromial joint, otherwise known as the “Shoulder Joint”,
and eventually worked out how to re-locate it himself in mid-play! Ugh!
I
myself excelled in cricket and my days as a great cricketer deserve another
page on another day. I played clean cricket and nobody approached me with wads
of money to fix matches.
I Never Accepted a Packet of Jujubes!
This
brings me to the subject of unsporting behavior, doping and match fixing.
Recently, three Pakistani cricketers, including their captain Salman Butt,
received jail sentences for throwing deliberate no-balls.
The persistent rumour that I was paid 50 cents and a
small pack of jujubes to come last in the Sack Race is totally and utterly
without foundation!
First published in the Sunday Times of Sri Lanka on the 20th of January 2013
Copyright: Gyan C A Fernando 2012
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