Shining a light on the athlete’s eternal battle against Father Time Premium

Sport's ageism dilemma: Anderson's farewell at 41, Yamal's Euro triumph at 17, and Alcaraz's rise at 21.

Sport is often deemed as the pursuit of the young. Fresh talent is placed on a higher pedestal than an ageing champion inching towards the last stretch. Over the last week, 41-year-old James Anderson walked into his cricketing sunset while Spaniard Lamine Yamal, a mere 17 summers, lit up the Euro in which his country pipped England in the final.

If Anderson was all about pathos and the wistful sigh, Yamal was linked to hope and fresh legs greased with a dollop of magic. And since Spain is the flavour of the season, add 21-year-old Carlos Alcaraz to the mix. The tennis star is seemingly the next emperor in an enterprise that not so long ago was entirely the preserve of Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic. Again the old makes way for the new.

All of us have dallied with sport as a child, extending the trend into school and later college. But then life intervenes, work beckons, loans are inevitable and pleasure is sought from the outliers, who persevered and excelled on the turf. For them sport remained their eternal road, for us it was a detour we indulged in before we got practical. Easier to watch on television than deal with a daily 5 a.m. alarm and go for a run and follow it up with a stint at the gym.

But in the perception stakes, an athlete going past his or her 30th birthday is constantly reminded about time’s winged chariot hurrying near. Just as women in conservative societies get needless advice about a biological clock ticking. But as the cliche goes, age is just a number. Teenagers see it as an instance of escapism sought by their elders while those with multiple candles on birthday cakes often chorus: “I feel the same despite my age.”

Shortly after he bowed out from Tests at Lord’s with 704 wickets in his kitty, Anderson got past some emotional interviews and sauntered onto the outfield. It was his domain for two decades and those links cannot be shredded. Moist sentiments in check, he played with the tiny-tots as gentle throwdowns and lots of laughter ensued.

This was sport at its most elemental, devoid of nationalism and commerce. Perhaps this was all of us when we were battling with pimples and first-love angst. At that time, all we did was play a sport just for the sheer joy it offered. Gully-cricket, French-cricket (not many know it, but that calls for a separate article), table tennis, badminton, football, kabaddi and many other sweaty outlets. What Anderson did, seeking happiness from sport without added frills, is an attitude that many forget as they go up the value chain.

It is a truism that the movie ‘Jerry Maguire’, starring Tom Cruise, drilled home in 1996. Yet, sport gets coated with multiple layers. Performance, commercial heft and patriotism all get blended and hype becomes the suffocating outer layer. Throw the spectre of ageism into it and athletes cannot be blamed if they feel that they are caught in a vortex of pressure.