All Shook Up
Friday Night Music: Elvis Presley.
I wish I could karaoke Elvis today. I don't, of course, have the best voice around, but since I've a cold and a sore throat right now, it's turned quite passable. Many were the times that I've wished I actually had the 'sore-throat-voice' all the time - that way, at least, people wouldn't give me the "Please, my ears!" look when I sing.
All shook up. I have to share this. On Fi's birthday, we'd gone for the US Open. If this blog has taught you one thing about me, it is that I don't care too much for sports as a general rule. I'll bend enough to say I actually enjoy some competitive sports - gymnastics, figure skating, stuff like that. Stuff with grace, stuff that the artist in me can appreciate, too. And I have played competitive sports when I was younger: badminton, throwball, ...you get the drift. And, even now, I like playing a bit of raquetball sometimes, or swimming (which got me the 'sore-throat-voice' in the first place), apart from my regular gym routine. And, what's weirder, over the last couple of months I've found myself in situations where I land up watching competitive matches a lot - baseball, cricket, tennis... hell, golf.
Coming back. In general, I'm rather wary of sports. So, when I walked on to the stadium that day, I must've been the only person there who didn't actually belong. I was wondering if the weather would hold, appraising Ms. Ahead-of-me's outfit and wondering when was the earliest I could broach going home without sounding, well, non-sportive. So, in that mood, I accompanied Fi and Di to the Arthur Ashe Stadium, where the match between I-don't-remember and I-don't-care was going on in full spate. I watched as the crowds cheered - and jeered. I observed the eyes of the two people on either side of me hang on to the ball hungrily. I felt guilty being there - as if I was intruding on some sacred and secret ceremony. I listened as they discussed the odds of the game being won by I-don't-remember... or was it I-don't-care? I looked at the footwork of the two players and thought of a cool indoors stadium where I could see figure-skaters glide gracefully and noiselessly to music I enjoyed.
That's when the players stopped for a break, and the voice of Elvis filled the stadium. All Shook Up. I wouldn't say I belonged already - but I felt that if the people around me could appreciate Elvis and tennis in one breath, I might try too. In the end, it wasn't about the "no-sports" rule, it was about letting down some of my natural defences. Maybe I should be fair and call them 'prejudices'. That's what playing the game is all about, isn't it?
I wish I could karaoke Elvis today. I don't, of course, have the best voice around, but since I've a cold and a sore throat right now, it's turned quite passable. Many were the times that I've wished I actually had the 'sore-throat-voice' all the time - that way, at least, people wouldn't give me the "Please, my ears!" look when I sing.
All shook up. I have to share this. On Fi's birthday, we'd gone for the US Open. If this blog has taught you one thing about me, it is that I don't care too much for sports as a general rule. I'll bend enough to say I actually enjoy some competitive sports - gymnastics, figure skating, stuff like that. Stuff with grace, stuff that the artist in me can appreciate, too. And I have played competitive sports when I was younger: badminton, throwball, ...you get the drift. And, even now, I like playing a bit of raquetball sometimes, or swimming (which got me the 'sore-throat-voice' in the first place), apart from my regular gym routine. And, what's weirder, over the last couple of months I've found myself in situations where I land up watching competitive matches a lot - baseball, cricket, tennis... hell, golf.
Coming back. In general, I'm rather wary of sports. So, when I walked on to the stadium that day, I must've been the only person there who didn't actually belong. I was wondering if the weather would hold, appraising Ms. Ahead-of-me's outfit and wondering when was the earliest I could broach going home without sounding, well, non-sportive. So, in that mood, I accompanied Fi and Di to the Arthur Ashe Stadium, where the match between I-don't-remember and I-don't-care was going on in full spate. I watched as the crowds cheered - and jeered. I observed the eyes of the two people on either side of me hang on to the ball hungrily. I felt guilty being there - as if I was intruding on some sacred and secret ceremony. I listened as they discussed the odds of the game being won by I-don't-remember... or was it I-don't-care? I looked at the footwork of the two players and thought of a cool indoors stadium where I could see figure-skaters glide gracefully and noiselessly to music I enjoyed.
That's when the players stopped for a break, and the voice of Elvis filled the stadium. All Shook Up. I wouldn't say I belonged already - but I felt that if the people around me could appreciate Elvis and tennis in one breath, I might try too. In the end, it wasn't about the "no-sports" rule, it was about letting down some of my natural defences. Maybe I should be fair and call them 'prejudices'. That's what playing the game is all about, isn't it?
posted by Summer Showers at
8:29 PM
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