Impulse is actually quite a significant, if unnoticed, term in the realms of dynamics. Mostly used in Rocketry and other such things way beyond the comprehension of the average man, it is defined as the product of Average Force and the Time… or is it the quotient??? GAWD, I am forgetting everything I learnt… KNEW college was a bad idea!
But then, this is MY page and so I WILL NOT talk about such unholy things such as Physics and Mechanics and other such stuff that, the society has decided, are very important for an Engineer to know. So what IS the impulse that I have given as a heading so grandly at the top of the page… yeah, I meant that totally indefinable characteristic of humans which makes them do weird stuff at weird times, some things which their logical mind would have dismissed as outright crazy.
From my observations of the above defined indefinable property, the conclusions are that an impulsive action is one which you do by listening to your heart and not your mind. Yeah, THAT makes a lot of sense, I know. But that’s all it is… really.
In a normal scheme of things, the heart DOES have the first say in everything we do. But, it’s the mind, the logical, scheming, rationalizing, devilish part of us, which has the second, third and so on till the FINAL say. So the body does what the brain commands it to and we all remain holier-than-thou, doing the thing that…well, SHOULD be done, as defined by practice or law or society or whatever.
The impulsive act, however, does not allow time for the mind to think. The heart says, and wham, it’s done! Everyone would have done it at some point in their life. Just doing something for the heck of it…. Like, I wanna do it and so WILL do it. The other day, it was raining like there was no tomorrow and I had just finished watching FRIENDS. So, jobless as I am, I sat by the window and watched the rain pelting down on the asphalt. And then suddenly, I just got up, walked out of my house, walked through the rain till the gate of my apartments and walked back in. More than enough! I was drenched to the skin, my hair was a wet mess and my clothes were stuck to me like I was born with them or something, like Karna. Did all that matter? NO! I had just done what I had wanted to do, and I felt very pleased with myself.
There are many other things which I have done on an impulse, totally shutting out the voices in my head screaming “What are you doing?” and “DON’T!!!!!!!!!” So far I’ve not had to regret any of them. Of course, none of them have been earth-shaking events which decided the future of this planet. But still, so far, my mind has not had the opportunity to tell me “Ha, I told you!” And even if there came such an occasion, where an impulsive action could have been avoided in favour of the logical, rational one, well, I don’t think I would care. For I would be secure in the thought that for that one moment at least, I had set aside all the complicated thought processes rushing through my head, and simply followed my heart…
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Monday, July 04, 2005
Let’s Go Roger!
There are probably a million versions of the 2005 Wimbledon Men’s Final going around but I feel compelled to write my own version of it. And I’m sure I’m not going to add anything new to what has already been said about Federer… I mean there are only so many words in the English vocabulary to variously describe greatness.
Anyone who expected Federer to step up to the occasion was totally vindicated. The same however cannot be said of those who expected Roddick to do the same. From the time they started hitting practice balls across the net, Roddick appeared to be in a daze. Whether it was the enormity of the occasion or of the man facing him across the net, one will never know. But his face was so completely blank and he looked all at sea even before the match had begun.
Sure enough, the first set was all about Federer showing the world how beautiful tennis can be made to look. When you watch Federer, you don’t feel like describing what he’s doing as playing. Playing is an action of exertion, of trying to beat the opponent, of physical and mental strength. With Federer, it’s none of these. He waltzes around the court, paints his strokes with the racquet as his paintbrush and the opponent is merely an appendage… a stone wall to return the ball so that he can conjure up better magic.
There were moments in the first set which left you scrambling for words to describe what happened. There was this point where Roddick played the perfect serve-and-volley… almost. He served strong and wide and Federer had to stretch for a backhand return. The ball rose high and Roddick was ready at the net to smash it right down the center. He did. Winner, right? Wrong. Federer was waiting at the exact place the ball arrived, and smashed a forehand right across a Roddick stranded at the net and wondering what more he could do. At another point, the men were exchanging forehands when Roddick created a beautiful angle to force Federer out of the court. Even if he returned it, Roddick would be ready at the net to drop it into any part of the open court. Probably Federer sensed this, or it just came naturally to him. On the stretch, he unleashed a forehand topspin of such an impossible angle that it just about missed the player’s chairs. This from the baseline!
By the time the first set was over in a flurry of winners, the crowd thought they were headed for a massacre. But just to add a twist to the Federer orchestra, Roddick broke Federer in the third game of the second set. The crowd perked up in anticipation of a real match to start. But the ray of light did not widen into bright sunshine. As clouds gathered over center court to blot out the sun, Federer snuffed out Roddick’s break with one of his own and took the set into a tiebreaker.
The tiebreaker was all about how impossible shots are actually possible, how a backhand down-the-line is the easiest shot in the book and how Roddick’s will was finally broken. By the time the second set was handed to Federer, his winners-unforced errors count stood at an inhuman 30-3. Roddick’s in comparison was a pathetic 17-12.
The third set was a mere formality. Roddick had already given up though, it has to be said, he tried. He really did. His Rocket serve wasn’t exactly doing its job, or so it seemed, as Federer returned them with nonchalant ease. His forehand too was being matched shot for shot by the champion. And his forays to the net were dismissed disdainfully with a spellbinding down-the line or an oh-so-perfect backhand crosscourt. Still, against any other person, what Roddick did would have been enough. It was just that he ran up against a man who, by his own admission, was playing “the game of my life”. Federer in normal form is bad enough. Federer in “the game of my life” form was hopeless. It was like he had center court mapped in his forehead and had assigned coordinates to every point on court. Then the ball was a mere programmed missile, racing towards the exact coordinates that the computer in the man’s head ordered. He just couldn’t put a foot wrong, play a wrong shot or make an unforced error. He just couldn’t.
The beauty of Federer’s game is that he reads the opponent so early and chooses his arsenal accordingly. In the quarterfinals, he realized he couldn’t match Gonzales’ power baseline hitting, though he has the best baseline shots in the game. So he was content to soak up everything the Chilean threw at him, slicing back his monster forehands and thus giving himself time to get ready for the next shot. The Chilean invariably made an error, forced or unforced and Federer was there to take advantage. In the finals, he realized he could match Roddick shot for shot and go one better. So he just stepped up and pummeled Roddick into submission. At points, it was almost as if he was saying “You can do that? So can I, and better.” In the second set, Roddick hit a forehand down-the-line to Federer’s backhand and moved up to the net to cover the down-the-line return. The Federer return came, it was a down-the-line and Roddick couldn’t touch it. The ball simply curved around him and landed beautifully inside the court. It was around that point that Roddick, once and for all, accepted reality.
If he could do this to the number two seed… this must be the sinking feeling in every tennis player’s heart. I can see only the mercurial Safin, on his day AND Federer’s bad day, step up and beat Federer on grass. Hewitt simply doesn’t have the game and Roddick seems to be in want of loads of confidence boosters. And the other question of course on everyone’s mind- How many more? He’s just 23, and assuming he wins every Wimbledon till he’s 30; he stacks up a mammoth TEN titles. What a thought- simultaneously scary and awe-inspiring, just like the man himself…
Anyone who expected Federer to step up to the occasion was totally vindicated. The same however cannot be said of those who expected Roddick to do the same. From the time they started hitting practice balls across the net, Roddick appeared to be in a daze. Whether it was the enormity of the occasion or of the man facing him across the net, one will never know. But his face was so completely blank and he looked all at sea even before the match had begun.
Sure enough, the first set was all about Federer showing the world how beautiful tennis can be made to look. When you watch Federer, you don’t feel like describing what he’s doing as playing. Playing is an action of exertion, of trying to beat the opponent, of physical and mental strength. With Federer, it’s none of these. He waltzes around the court, paints his strokes with the racquet as his paintbrush and the opponent is merely an appendage… a stone wall to return the ball so that he can conjure up better magic.
There were moments in the first set which left you scrambling for words to describe what happened. There was this point where Roddick played the perfect serve-and-volley… almost. He served strong and wide and Federer had to stretch for a backhand return. The ball rose high and Roddick was ready at the net to smash it right down the center. He did. Winner, right? Wrong. Federer was waiting at the exact place the ball arrived, and smashed a forehand right across a Roddick stranded at the net and wondering what more he could do. At another point, the men were exchanging forehands when Roddick created a beautiful angle to force Federer out of the court. Even if he returned it, Roddick would be ready at the net to drop it into any part of the open court. Probably Federer sensed this, or it just came naturally to him. On the stretch, he unleashed a forehand topspin of such an impossible angle that it just about missed the player’s chairs. This from the baseline!
By the time the first set was over in a flurry of winners, the crowd thought they were headed for a massacre. But just to add a twist to the Federer orchestra, Roddick broke Federer in the third game of the second set. The crowd perked up in anticipation of a real match to start. But the ray of light did not widen into bright sunshine. As clouds gathered over center court to blot out the sun, Federer snuffed out Roddick’s break with one of his own and took the set into a tiebreaker.
The tiebreaker was all about how impossible shots are actually possible, how a backhand down-the-line is the easiest shot in the book and how Roddick’s will was finally broken. By the time the second set was handed to Federer, his winners-unforced errors count stood at an inhuman 30-3. Roddick’s in comparison was a pathetic 17-12.
The third set was a mere formality. Roddick had already given up though, it has to be said, he tried. He really did. His Rocket serve wasn’t exactly doing its job, or so it seemed, as Federer returned them with nonchalant ease. His forehand too was being matched shot for shot by the champion. And his forays to the net were dismissed disdainfully with a spellbinding down-the line or an oh-so-perfect backhand crosscourt. Still, against any other person, what Roddick did would have been enough. It was just that he ran up against a man who, by his own admission, was playing “the game of my life”. Federer in normal form is bad enough. Federer in “the game of my life” form was hopeless. It was like he had center court mapped in his forehead and had assigned coordinates to every point on court. Then the ball was a mere programmed missile, racing towards the exact coordinates that the computer in the man’s head ordered. He just couldn’t put a foot wrong, play a wrong shot or make an unforced error. He just couldn’t.
The beauty of Federer’s game is that he reads the opponent so early and chooses his arsenal accordingly. In the quarterfinals, he realized he couldn’t match Gonzales’ power baseline hitting, though he has the best baseline shots in the game. So he was content to soak up everything the Chilean threw at him, slicing back his monster forehands and thus giving himself time to get ready for the next shot. The Chilean invariably made an error, forced or unforced and Federer was there to take advantage. In the finals, he realized he could match Roddick shot for shot and go one better. So he just stepped up and pummeled Roddick into submission. At points, it was almost as if he was saying “You can do that? So can I, and better.” In the second set, Roddick hit a forehand down-the-line to Federer’s backhand and moved up to the net to cover the down-the-line return. The Federer return came, it was a down-the-line and Roddick couldn’t touch it. The ball simply curved around him and landed beautifully inside the court. It was around that point that Roddick, once and for all, accepted reality.
If he could do this to the number two seed… this must be the sinking feeling in every tennis player’s heart. I can see only the mercurial Safin, on his day AND Federer’s bad day, step up and beat Federer on grass. Hewitt simply doesn’t have the game and Roddick seems to be in want of loads of confidence boosters. And the other question of course on everyone’s mind- How many more? He’s just 23, and assuming he wins every Wimbledon till he’s 30; he stacks up a mammoth TEN titles. What a thought- simultaneously scary and awe-inspiring, just like the man himself…
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