“At one point in your life you either have the thing you want or the
reasons why you don't.” – Anonymous
Life is a game of choices, the choices between the compromises one takes in the journey of finding the inner self’s true identity and the obligations to his loved ones. Sport is nothing more and nothing less. In fact, Life and sport are microcosms of one another, with each trying to outwit the other. In this realm, being a professional sportsperson is not a gift, not a state of bliss, it’s a choice.
Beneath the facade of fame, happiness and successes of an athlete, lies a plethora of unimaginable pain, sacrifices and endurance that materializes the outcome. Sport is so cruel that only the outcome matters to the populace and the entire pursuit underneath becomes a travesty. Euphemists like to attribute this fact to call sport a leveler, but the greatness of the sportsman lies in accepting this iniquity before becoming one.
Sport presents the afflictive artist’s paradox, although innocuously. It fosters the conflict between the art and the artist, each priding to be greater than the other. Most cases, the art has the last laugh asserting the artist that there can be only one masterpiece and it is for which the artist was born and not the vice-versa. It ruthlessly devours the coup de grace of his battles and leaves him pondering the impact of time and age.
Here comes the decisive to part to answer why a sportsperson chooses to be one. He derives only the solemn pride and joy that is truly his from pursuing it. It’s perhaps the only thing he wants.
