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So here is where it starts. In my living room across the TV set transmitting the replayed match between Rafael Nadal and Igor Andreev at the Toronto Masters Series 2008.

It’s symbolic for me in the sense that my passion for tennis started exactly like this in the same place at about the same time of day, three years ago, watching a replay of that all-but-forgotten dramatic match between Sebastien Grosjean, and — who else — Rafael Nadal at Roland Garros 2005.

It wasn’t my fault. I wanted to channel surf my way through it like most Pinoys who only care about the triple Bs (basketball, boxing and billiards — well, pool, technically, but for the sake of alliteration, let’s leave it at that). But R., my cultured, erudite-but-you-wouldn’t-know-it man, took hold of the remote and ignored my complaints.

I went through the usual stages: tennis’s boring-it’s taking so long-what’s up with the stupid scoring system — wait a minute, what’s happening?

Rafa — the nickname felt awkward for me; Rafael was a name I used to hear only in telenovelas and news reports — was being booed by the predominantly French crowd. And the players just wait through ten minutes of utter pandemonium before the spectators finally composed themselves and watched in thrall as the 19-year-old they despised won in four sets (6-4, 3-6, 6-0, 6-3). Such dislay of passion and drama, seemingly from out of nowhere. I never switched channels on a tennis match again.

And now over the Toronto tennis stadium, fireworks go off as Rafa wins over Igor Andreev. Fireworks.

It’s either the Toronto tournament organizers have a gift for metaphor or it’s that weird Canadian sense of humor. But no doubt, this was tennis. Dramatic, soulful, transcendent, volatile, unpredictable, euphoric, gut-wrenching, insane. Indubitably my favorite sport of all time.

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Tags: nadal, sports, tennis