Rivals who are friends

Professional sport and dog-eat-dog have generally tended to go hand in glove, implying that in the searing cauldron of competitive action, there is absolutely no scope for camaraderie and friendship. Thankfully, that implication has been lost on several leading lights of the sporting world, across various disciplines.

There is no more exhilarating sight than watching a Formula One car tear down the long straight, topping 300 kmph comfortably. The strain of the engines reverberating across the expanse of the circuit, the tricky chicanes and the tight corners, the tremendous G-force that buffets the drivers - it's not a sport for the faint-hearted or the physically infirm.

F1 racing is perhaps the most dangerous of competitive sport. A split second's lapse in concentration could prove fatal - as it unfortunately has, far too often than it should have. But, despite the very obvious perils, the thrill of competition and the sheer high of haring down the track in those flying machines are temptations way too irresistible for the gifted and the able.

Formula One is full of stories of implied bad blood between ace drivers, who are understandably touchy at tardy driving, and a lack of respect for the etiquettes of track racing. Slights are perceived, loyalties are questioned and contentious team orders often drive a wedge between teammates. With so much on the line, Formula One is necessarily a sport of life and death for reasons beyond the obvious.

Hence the obvious popping-out-of-the-eyes-from-the-sockets when Mark Webber hitched a ride from Fernando Alonso at the conclusion of the Singapore Grand Prix last week. Webber's Red Bull had troubled him throughout the second part of the race, and, on the final lap, his engine caught fire, putting the Australian out of his misery. Alonso, having driven a brilliant tactical race in his Ferrari - incidentally, the only competitor to Red Bull for the Constructors' Championship - brought his car home in second place behind Sebastian Vettel, then stopped on his slowing down lap to pick up his mate and take him to the pits.

The sight of Webber sitting by Alonso's side, his right knee all but obliterating the Spaniard's line of sight as he weaved his way to the pits, was beautifully touching. Not long back, these two guys were driving out of their skins, neither man willing to concede an inch, each wanting to best the other. That desire was driven, no pun intended, by their competitive instincts; the human side of things surfaced immediately after the chequered flag had been waved. In all the time of Formula One viewing, I hadn't seen a more moving picture on television.

Friendships among sportspersons cutting across national boundaries aren't as few and far between as one would imagine. That same afternoon, I had spent an enjoyable half-hour with Darren Sammy, Ishant Sharma and Amit Mishra, rivals when doing international duty but inseparable mates in the Sunrisers Hyderabad camp. It was a coming together of diverse and unrelated individuals with seemingly very little in common beyond the love of cricket. But then again, who is to even say on what basis relationships are formed?

Oftentimes, common interests can be the catalyst; at other times, it could be an admiration for the other's craft, a mutual respect arising from situations analysed and experiences shared. There is no guarantee that being in the dressing room for years on end should result in teammates becoming the best of buddies, just as there is no rule which says that professional rivals should not graduate beyond the sport and go on to form lifelong relationships, no matter their nationalities.

Viv Richards and Ian Botham immediately come to mind as examples of two flamboyant, charismatic individuals who have continued to enjoy a wonderful friendship for some three decades now. Long before knighthood, long before Smokin' Joe and Beefy became Sir Viv and Sir Ian, respectively, they electrified the atmosphere in the Somerset changing room and entertained fans across England during the English County Championship, bringing fans to the grounds in their thousands and seldom disappointing the faithful.

The late Peter Roebuck was then the captain of Somerset, as taciturn and withdrawn as Richards and Botham were boisterous and fun-minded. He was an excellent student of the game, a decent opening batsman who cut out all risks, and a studious skipper under whom Somerset progressed and started to stack up the silverware. But by his own admission - made not necessarily in jest - his job was to stop Richards and Botham from batting together for as long as he could. No prizes for guessing what emotions that statement triggered, but that's another matter altogether.

Closer home, Sachin Tendulkar has forged strong bonds with Brian Lara and Shane Warne, in a union of contrasts. Where both the West Indian genius and the leg-spinning Wizard of Oz are happy in the public eye, Tendulkar is quite the opposite, even today an intensely private man despite the unforgiving public glare and scrutiny. And these bonds were formed not post retirement, but in their playing days when Tendulkar and Lara were easily the two best batsmen of their generation, and Warne and Tendulkar were involved in many a memorable battle in different parts of the world.

It might be easier sometimes to form relationships in team sports because of the dynamics and the sheer numbers involved. But especially for top sportspersons to get along famously with their closest competitors - not just as respectful rivals but as close friends - isn't unheard of. The respect and admiration Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal have for each other is no secret; what isn't as well known is that Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray are great buddies who hit with each other before every tournament they are both entered in, and who share a wonderful rapport off the tennis court. And when, so many thousand moons back, when Martina Navratilova defected to the United States, Chris Evert took an immediate liking to the young Czech and took her under her wing, the start of a wonderful friendship that has survived the test of time and the battle for many a Grand Slam crown.

There really is no logical explanation for why some people hit it off even when they aren't teammates, and why some teammates, however long they might have played alongside each other, aren't necessarily BFFs. And there can't be, actually. For each cold war within a side, there is at least one heart-warming tale of a bond between supposed competitive rivals. Alain Prost and Ayrton Senna never got along when they were with McLaren, nor did Lewis Hamilton and Jenson Button at the same Formula One team. Cristiano Ronaldo and Gonzalo Higuain could barely see eye to eye at Real Madrid, and, for nearly a decade, Steve Waugh and Warne, or Adam Gilchrist and Warne, were hardly the best of mates, even if they all maintained healthy professional relationships.

But for every Ronaldo-Higuain or every Hamilton-Button, there is a Webber-Alonso, a Tendulkar-Lara, an Afridi-Yuvraj, a Djokovic-Murray, an Evert-Navratilova. The very essence of sport emanates from these bonds that extend beyond professional courtesy and respect, and comprehensively bust the myth that a strong professional rivalry is built around mutual personal antipathy.