For the Love of the Game

Walking into Rajiv Gandhi Indoor Stadium in Kochi with my father at the age of 6 marked my first time setting foot on a badminton court. I was there to attend a badminton coaching program for kids held during the summer, but my father and I leaving home late and driving 100 kilometers had inevitably made me late on the first day.

My love for the game was nonexistent when I first started playing; I played because my father encouraged me to. I started playing more during summers as I grew older, as an indoor badminton court had opened up close to home and also because it was an activity during boring, hot summer days. I gained a reputation as the lazy guy among my coaches during the brief coaching classes I attended. Years went on, and I started playing because my sister wanted to; then, I started playing because I really needed the exercise. And recently, I started playing because I wanted to.

The game was always a bit cruel to me because my skill growth could not keep up with the rate at which I was growing as a person (I’m referring to my size). I was able to play well when I did not care enough to want to play well. But by the time I started caring, I simply couldn’t keep up. Now, when I want to pick up that drop after hitting a smash in the backcourt, I’m not fast enough. Once, when I was brooding away at the breakfast table after losing five straight games in the morning badminton session, my mother asked me what was wrong. I explained my situation. It’s not that I did not want to win, but I simply couldn’t win due to some bizarre reason. My mother told me it was all in my head, and of course, I was outraged. After all, it's not like I wanted to lose. But when I went to play the next day, I remembered that. Even during tough situations when I made one silly mistake after another, even when I was nine points down and my opponent was two points away from winning, I remembered to try my best. You may now expect me to say that I won all of those games where I kept my head cool, mistakes minimal, and hopes high. But alas, I lost some too. One thing changed from that day, though: whether I won or lost, I never went down without a fight.

Badminton has taught me a great deal. You can do everything right and still not get what you want, but the important thing is daring to go to the next game with the knowledge that you can do everything right and still not get what you want. And if you see an opportunity for a point but you doubt whether you’ll get there on time like I usually tend to, try taking that shot. You may not get it, but trying won’t hurt either. And finally, you can keep playing this game for many reasons, but you will never enjoy it unless you play for the love you have for the game. At the risk of having this entire write-up branded as “a piece of unicorn shit full of false motivational TED Talk kinda bullshit” by my harsh critics, with all this seemingly motivational stuff, I’ll stop by saying this much: I may have started playing for my father. I may have continued for my sister, for exercise, or simply out of boredom. But I recently started playing because, well I liked to, and that has made all the difference. Huh, I wonder whether this tells something about life?