It was an unexpected sighting.
That Sunday, as I sat back to sample what the fuss about Floyd Mayweather versus Manny Pacquiao was, I noticed her ringside. Steffi Graf. Oh yes, Las Vegas was her hometown. Oh right, there was husband Andre. Of course, this was the big show in town that night. No wonder, she made the time.
As youth slips by, many of its indulgences melt away from memory. Adult life extracts a price. However, from my younger days if there is one image that survives in resplendent clarity, it is hers. Steffi. Feline. Athletic. Wondrous.
So, she turns 46 some days back. It was a neither here nor there number. Still very much in the forties, yet distant from that half a century figure. But, somehow, with Steffi, forty-six has been generous. It had no choice perhaps.
At that so-called boxing match, she appeared like I always remembered – distant, slightly bored, only letting the occasional smile interrupt the stony visage, not a hair out of place. Phew, I was glad so little had changed.
To think it has been 16 years since she stopped playing. It was a heady time, that decade and a bit. She won a lot, yet it was in her method that lay a permanent magic. The sizzling forehand. The stinging backhand slice. The muscling serve. And the movement around court. Ahhh the movement.
I remember a story about her training with Germany’s athletics squad at the Seoul Olympics in 1988, surprising them with her world-class timing over 800 metres. She would win Gold of course at the games and each of the other four majors that year to complete a “Golden Slam.” She was 19 years old.
Yet beyond all the titles and the splendour of her racquet skills, it was the persona that defined Steffi – remarkably stoic, almost mechanical in her pursuit of perfection, the person hidden away from the athlete despite the very public nature of her craft.
Except sometimes. Like this, when she let the imp sneak out for a bit.
So, when she left the stage, she successfully plucked herself out of the arc lights. Marriage to a fellow superstar hasn’t led to the inevitable deluge of tabloid fodder. We know she is a mother to two and runs a charity supporting children traumatised by war.
We spot her at an occasional exhibition match, sometimes a rare interview pops up and now India has some of her to itself, with the legend being appointed the ayurveda brand ambassador of Kerala. But, is it still enough?
There simply isn’t too much of Steffi.
I kind of like it like that. Forever elusive, forever Steffi.
(This piece has been reposted from The Quint’s archives for Steffi Graf’s 48th birthday. This article was orginally published on 24 June 2015 when the tennis legend was appointed the ayurveda brand ambassador of Kerala.)
(Gaurav Kalra is a senior sports journalist, he can be reached at @gauravkalra75)
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