I am back at the Nungambakkam SDAT tennis courts for the 18th edition of the Chennai Open. I think to myself that 18 years is quite a long time. How many have I been to? At least 12 of them?

SDAT 1

I sit halfway back in the green-tier, giving me a 45 degree view of the centre court, and I wonder if this was the same spot my friends and I had occupied all those years ago when Nadal beat Moya in that cliff-hanger of a semi-final.

I sit in the front row right behind the chair umpire, and ask myself again if the performance of the ball boys at the tournament is actually below par, or if I am just prejudiced against them, this being the only tournament I’ve ever regularly followed live

I sit in the top-most row of the brown section, providing a bird’s-eye view of proceedings down below. The cool evening breeze swirls around me, and in the focused glare of the stadium lights, the gladiators fighting each other way below seem to be no more than inanimate video game caricatures.

I walk out of centre court and head towards the publicity stands and the outside courts, and I marvel again at the relaxed vibe the tournament always has, at how anyone gets to sit anywhere in centre court, in spite of having tickets with designated seats printed on them.

I sit in the outside courts, up-close-and-personal with the qualifiers battling it out there. With the young rookie climbing up the rankings, the old journeyman at another stop on his never-ending trip, the has-been pro on a terminal downward spiral, the nameless, faceless operators on the perennial fringes of the tour.

I watch Tipsarevic hit the tournament-winning shot, exult in joy, use a cricket bat to hit balls into the crowd, make flamboyant comments on his win, lift the trophy, and I feel a surge of joy from within. Beauty might save the world yet.

I flow with the crowds gently drifting out of the stadium. There is no shrill clamour, no excited debate, just a relaxed buzz. And I feel I have just renewed my friendship with an old friend, I have just passed an annual signpost in my life, as regular as the seasons.

It sinks in that the ATP tour for the year has just begun, with Chennai signalling its dawn. Happy news floods in that the tournament’s contract has been renewed for the next three years, and so I know it will be around next season again, as a faithful sentinel ushering in new beginnings, new hopes, new resolutions.

And I realize then I need to put these thoughts down. I know I need to keep track of these moments. I resolve to write.