Boom Boom, they called him. I was mesmerized by the man. He was young, energetic and unpredictable. He dove around on the hallowed courts of the All England Club as if it were the courts in his local neighborhood. He showed no respect or contempt and was full of energy for the game. Boris Becker was my idol. I held my breath as he lost another Wimbledon final and craved for one last title. But it was never to be.
I have always been fascinated by the underdog. Something about the unpredictability, the exhilaration in the victory, the agony in defeat and the rags to riches story always attracts me towards it. Be it Indian cricket, Becker, Oakland Raiders, Cameroon, Brett Favre or any other underdog, I have always had the perverse pleasure of being on their side. I think it is the great high that I get when they win against all odds that makes me go with them. Something about consistent champions always turned me off. Even a graceful champion like Sampras was not in my good books.
But the agony of getting behind the underdog is rather painful. I am sure if I was a fan of the Australian cricket team I would have been a much happier person. But then where would the excitement level be? This Sunday Patriots will play the Superbowl and arguably they are the best team with an unbeaten season. But for some reason I can’t get behind them even though I have no affiliation towards the Giants. I will root for the Giants and cringe as they lose to the champions. It is going to be another painful end to my NFL season.
For once I wish I could put my emotions aside and bet on the winning horse.