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Sport
Oscar Pistorius is, simply, sporting man at his best, writes Rohit Brijnath All year we watch, the brain assaulted by moving images from a million arenas, and then suddenly in December we must regurgitate those memories and decide: who was the best of this year. It is an impossible task. Time is an issue. It is easy to recall that grinning hypnotist Muttiah Muralitharan teasing his way to the most Test wickets last week, yet less clear in the memory is a great white called Phelps cutting through water on his way to five world records in January. Weighing athletes from disparate sports is awkward, yet we are undaunted. So we measure the physical sturdiness of Chris McCormack (World ironman champion) against the mental agility of V. Anand (World chess champion). We examine the cool courage of Casey Stoner (MotoGP champ) against the cool wisdom of Sachin Tendulkar (cricketer). We contemplate the fast twitch fibre of Asafa Powell (who reset the 100-metre World record) and the lung capacity of Haile Gebreselassie (who reset the World marathon record). We look at the hands of Henin and the feet of Ronaldo. SnobberyBut, in truth, not every sport is given its due, and more and more a sad snobbery is taking root. Our addiction to television has narrowed our view, for our interest often dims in sports that the camera shuns. So squash is seen as wooden, and gymnastics invisible in the years between Olympics. Lin Dan, the saint of the shuttle who defended his All-England and World championship badminton titles this year, remains an athletic actor in search of a wider audience. It is a pity that again and again we return to the familiar, for focused champions are to be found beyond Tiger and Tendulkar, and elegant stories to be told beyond Federer and Fabregas. Japan’s Ryoko Tani has two Olympic golds and this year won her seventh straight world title, suggesting a complete command of her sport. But she is a judoka, and remains, thus, an athlete of peripheral interest. Sebastien Loeb flirts readily with risk and manipulates a steering wheel with a pianist’s dexterity. This year he won his fourth successive World rally championship, but his heroics are cut down, literally, to most newspapers’ briefs section. On May 16 this year, a climber named Apa cried out “we are on the summit, we are on the summit” but how many people heard him, or of him. The Sherpa had ascended to Everest’s peak for the 17th time, going closer, more often, to God’s embrace than any man, yet he remains nothing but a curious fact, his valorous story untold. Eventually, prodded by marketing men, we drift towards the “sexy” story. In England, Lewis Hamilton will win some sportsperson of the year awards, even though he didn’t win what he should have. A black man in Formula One is a sexy story. Tim Duncan is not sexy. Lance Armstrong was. Hockey players and swimmers rarely are. Sometimes, geography also limits us. In India, it is a struggle to see further than cricket. In Brazil, football rules. In America, baseball counts. In Europe, the polished Roger Federer is a favourite, in China it might be a hurdler, in Australia a footy player. Not conventionalSo who to pick? My man of the year is not a conventional champion but he is an authentic hero. He won no famous medals this year, but his triumph is unmatched. Oscar Pistorius has no legs, he runs on carbon fibre blades, he has timed 46.56sec in the 400 metres and he wants to run in the Beijing Olympics, against able-bodied men. Officials may not let him, for it is yet to be decided if his prosthetics give him an advantage. In a way, it does not matter what they decide, for a spirited man has reminded us already there is no finish line to what we can accomplish. Pistorius will keep on running, and every persistent stride he takes is a powerful symbol of human endeavour. He is taking us to where no athlete has gone before. He is, simply, sporting man at his best.
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