Eric is my uncle - my mother's first cousin, but was more of a buddy while I was in college. He introduced me to Pecos, that legendary pub in Bangalore with free popcorn. He bought me beer and chicken tacos that I still go back to savour during my annual nostalgia outings every winter, thirty years later.
He's also a man of many talents. He's a much acclaimed guitar player on the local scene, and I've been a fan ever since I heard him belt out the first bars of the lead on Shine On You Crazy Diamond.
Squash was his other passion. While I've never seen him play the game, he was the first one I met who's played the game at some level, having played for the Banaras Hindu University.
We'd hang out frequently and share stories over beers - stories around the music scene, college life, sport, relatives - he made family seem cool, and my buddies became great fans of his too.
One such conversation veered to a time when he'd gone to play an inter-IIT squash competition at the campus in Mumbai.
" I was pretty much whipping everyone, winning in straight games, barely giving anything away", he began. "I cleared the qualifiers, made it to the knockouts, and stormed into the quarters and the semis without as much as breaking into a sweat."
Then, came the finals.
"In a best-of-seven contest, I steamrolled my opponent in the first 3 sets. This whole thing was turning out to be anti-climactic. I decided to inject some excitement by toying around with the other guy. I began to prolong the rallies by making him run around, placing balls at angles that would make him have to cover a lot of the the court to retrieve them."
"To his credit, he put up a game show, chasing balls down like a hound and putting them back into play. At one time, I wasn't quite sure if I was, indeed, dictating the game. He began to win one game after the other, and went on to win the fourth set."
"'Enough', I told myself during the break. I entered the 5th set with new vigour. I realised, a bit to my dismay, that I wasn't really in control of my shots. Whereas I could earlier place balls with pinpoint precision, now I wasn't able to command them any more. My opponent was in the groove by then, merrily hitting winners, each one giving him added confidence. The fifth set was keenly fought, but he went on to win that one too."
"I threw everything I had into the 6th set. Took long, deep breaths, tried to control the panic that slowly engulfed me, tried to quicken the pace of the game, but I realised that it was slipping away. He beat me in the 6th set, by which time I was both demoralised and beside myself with rage for throwing it all away".
I had 'Eye of the Tiger' playing in my mind, over Dylan's whining on the jukebox at Pecos. Turned out to be anti-climactic. No heroics, as I found out.
"I got trampled over in the final set. I barely put up a fight because I'd already lost it in the mind. Besides, I was really tired. Seldom had I taken a game so deep, and my body felt like blubber. I had botched up. Colossally."
As one would expect, this was an illustration of so many sporting homilies - about overconfidence, underestimation, David vs Goliath and all that.
It was an evening and beer well spent. Except there was just one final, delicious twist to this saga.
"I figured later that my opponent was also the marathon champion for the IITs," he declared.
The next round was the first time that the beers were on me.
He's also a man of many talents. He's a much acclaimed guitar player on the local scene, and I've been a fan ever since I heard him belt out the first bars of the lead on Shine On You Crazy Diamond.
Squash was his other passion. While I've never seen him play the game, he was the first one I met who's played the game at some level, having played for the Banaras Hindu University.
We'd hang out frequently and share stories over beers - stories around the music scene, college life, sport, relatives - he made family seem cool, and my buddies became great fans of his too.
One such conversation veered to a time when he'd gone to play an inter-IIT squash competition at the campus in Mumbai.
" I was pretty much whipping everyone, winning in straight games, barely giving anything away", he began. "I cleared the qualifiers, made it to the knockouts, and stormed into the quarters and the semis without as much as breaking into a sweat."
"In a best-of-seven contest, I steamrolled my opponent in the first 3 sets. This whole thing was turning out to be anti-climactic. I decided to inject some excitement by toying around with the other guy. I began to prolong the rallies by making him run around, placing balls at angles that would make him have to cover a lot of the the court to retrieve them."
"To his credit, he put up a game show, chasing balls down like a hound and putting them back into play. At one time, I wasn't quite sure if I was, indeed, dictating the game. He began to win one game after the other, and went on to win the fourth set."
"'Enough', I told myself during the break. I entered the 5th set with new vigour. I realised, a bit to my dismay, that I wasn't really in control of my shots. Whereas I could earlier place balls with pinpoint precision, now I wasn't able to command them any more. My opponent was in the groove by then, merrily hitting winners, each one giving him added confidence. The fifth set was keenly fought, but he went on to win that one too."
"I threw everything I had into the 6th set. Took long, deep breaths, tried to control the panic that slowly engulfed me, tried to quicken the pace of the game, but I realised that it was slipping away. He beat me in the 6th set, by which time I was both demoralised and beside myself with rage for throwing it all away".
I had 'Eye of the Tiger' playing in my mind, over Dylan's whining on the jukebox at Pecos. Turned out to be anti-climactic. No heroics, as I found out.
"I got trampled over in the final set. I barely put up a fight because I'd already lost it in the mind. Besides, I was really tired. Seldom had I taken a game so deep, and my body felt like blubber. I had botched up. Colossally."
As one would expect, this was an illustration of so many sporting homilies - about overconfidence, underestimation, David vs Goliath and all that.
It was an evening and beer well spent. Except there was just one final, delicious twist to this saga.
"I figured later that my opponent was also the marathon champion for the IITs," he declared.
The next round was the first time that the beers were on me.
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