As Yusuf Dikec shows us, there is plenty of freedom within the rules to do things in one’s own way; it takes courage and confidence to stick to one’s guns
Everyone loves Yusuf Dikeç, a young Turk at 51, who came out all guns, sorry pistols, blazing.
The Turkish shooter secured silver in the 10-metre air pistol mixed team event, the same event in which India’s Manu Bhaker and Sarabjot Singh won a bronze. It was Turkey’s first-ever Olympic medal in shooting.
A 'cool shooter'
What has caught the world’s attention was the outwardly casual manner in which he pulled it off: shooting with one hand in his pocket, wearing ordinary prescription glasses, both eyes open.
No blinder over one eye, no special lenses, no hat, no fancy clothing gear, no oversized ear protectors, no visor. Just a man dressed like you and me — Yusuf was wearing a simple team T-shirt — shooting his way to glory, equipped only with a pistol and small yellow earplugs, so tiny they could hardly be seen.
When he stopped shooting, a red rose popped out of his pistol barrel — okay, it didn’t.
Meme storm
In doing so, Yusuf became a household name internationally, the embodiment of cool and effortless superiority.
To repurpose pop star Charli XCX’s tweet about Kamala Harris: “Yusuf IS Brat!” Yusuf shot to fame overnight. It’s just what the doctor ordered for the Olympics.
An Alanis Morissette song comes to mind: “I’ve got one hand in my pocket/ And the other one’s givin’ a high five.” Obviously, for Yusuf, “Sab baye haath ka khel hai” (It’s all a piece of cake).
Even as the shooter embraced the meme-storm on the internet, he clarified: “Success doesn’t come with your hands in your pockets.” That killed it a little bit.
Making it look so easy
The optics of this was such, it reminded me of anecdotes about 1980s Bollywood stars arriving late on a set, making up impromptu dialogues, adding to the script on the fly, and then leaving in the blink of an eye. The film would go on to be a superhit.
It also reminded me of Jimmy Amarnath’s bowling. The laidback innocuous run-up — more like walk-up — would lull the batsman into a false sense of complacency. But he was pretty darned effective.
In the semis of the 1983 World Cup that we won, Amarnath bowled 12 overs for 27 runs, the most economical among Indian bowlers, and took the important wickets of David Gower and Mike Gatting. He was the most economical bowler in the final as well, conceding only 12 runs in 7 overs, as also the joint highest wicket-taker with Madan Lal — both took three wickets each. Amarnath was declared the Man of the Match.
In contemporary times, Yusuf is a lot like Rohit Sharma who, as the commentary cliché goes, “makes it look so easy”.
The writer analogy
Finally, it reminded me — sorry, reader, I just can’t resist another analogy — of writers who make heavy weather of writing.
You will travel from a big city to Landour, Mussoorie. You will only write on stationery flown in from another big city. The pen will be Parker; the laptop, a shiny Apple MacBook.
Then, once the job is done after much fuss, you will get the printouts spiral-bound.
Yusuf, if he was a writer, would have walked down to the local kirana (grocery) store, picked up some ballpoint pens and school exercise books, written the novel, shoved it in an envelope and sent it to his publisher by Speed Post, not DHL. A couple of years later, he would’ve won the Booker.
Not Wimbledon
Compared to other sports, shooters have some leeway as to how they dress for a competition. It’s not Wimbledon for one. There, whiter than white is the unwavering norm, although players always try and push it a wee bit by adding dabs and tints of subtle colour.
In 2002, Serena Williams got away with a dash of purple on her arm bands, headband and shoes. The most a female athlete can do is experiment with the cut of the dresses.
Even the spectators are not spared. One has to dress smart, especially if watching a match on Centre Court or Court Number One. If you work for a company, you’re not allowed to wear any clothing that has the company logo printed on it. Political slogans aren’t allowed either. So, no ‘Free Palestine’ or ‘Just Stop Oil’ or even ‘Make America Great Again.’
Strict dress code
The dress code gets stricter if one has an invite to the Royal Box. Ye olde ‘National Dress’ doesn’t work here.
Last year, Formula 1 legend Lewis Hamilton was denied entry for not wearing a jacket and tie. There are also restrictions on spectator movement: you can’t go for a toilet break until the third game of a set is over.
Closer home, remember the time when MS Dhoni got into trouble over sporting the army’s dagger insignia on his gloves — he’s an honorary lieutenant colonel in the Indian army. The International Cricket Council (ICC) asked him to remove it, citing breach of regulations.
Myths and parodies
Coming back to Yusuf, his cult has spawned its own myths and parodies.
In one story, after he’s done shooting, he asks where the nearest smoking area is. While this might be made up, it reminded me of the eponymous Shane Warne documentary where he says: “I liked loud music, I smoked, I drank and I bowled a bit of leg spin. I don’t have any regrets.”
In his own words, the night before he bowled his first ball in Test cricket, he chain-smoked cigarettes in his hotel room. The next day, the first ball he bowled came to be known as the ‘Ball of the Century’, pitching outside leg and turning prodigiously to take out Mike Gatting’s off-stump.
Like the story about Yusuf smoking, there are innumerable ones about Viv Richards as well, of him having a beer at lunch, before going out and completing his century before tea.
While these stories might or might not be true, we certainly would like to believe them. What they do is bring our heroes closer to us. I loved John McEnroe, and now Nick Kyrgios, because they are different from their contemporaries.
Doing it his way
In tennis, the audience is constantly told in polite terms to basically shut up. A fuming volatile player, hurling expletives, smashing racquets, is an anomaly in the game of tennis, but not in life.
The imperfections make our heroes human. They are up on a pedestal but also walking the streets with us. They are super-human, but also mere mortals.
While Yusuf and Kyrgios are opposites — one exuding sangfroid, the other tetchiness — what unites them is that they are both characters.
Perhaps the most important lesson that Yusuf teaches us is that there is no one right way of doing anything. He goes easy on the attire and accoutrements because it’s what works for him.
He is the rare player who shoots with both eyes open; it’s what comes naturally to him. He shoots with one hand in his pocket because that’s what floats his boat.
Whatever floats their boat
In cricket, think of Jasprit Bumrah’s unorthodox bowling action, or Kris Srikanth’s low-slung batting stance.
In art, literature, film, music, sport — any creative pursuit for that matter — or even the simple/ complex matter of leading one’s life, too much emphasis is placed on doing things correctly. As Yusuf shows us, there is plenty of freedom within the rules of the game to do things one’s own way.
Therein lies a rare beauty that is not found in assembly-line practitioners of a craft, who, good as they might be, are still typically typical.
It takes courage and confidence to stick to one’s guns, even as others in the field stick to the tried and tested. That’s what endears players like Yusuf to us.
Staying true to oneself is an act easier said than done. But as Yusuf shows us, once you pull it off, the world applauds you for it.
A lot of players get respect and admiration; very few are recipients of genuine love. Even fewer get all three. Yusuf now belongs to that select club.
(The Federal seeks to present views and opinions from all sides of the spectrum. The information, ideas or opinions in the articles are of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Federal.)
