This version of Rudyard Kipling's poem was inspired by this amazing video, and by my super late realisation that a part of the poem is written on top of the Wimbledon court doors. 

Roger Federer just lost to Rafael Nadal in the men's singles finals of Roland Garros last night, and as bitter and upsetting it may be for Roger, he has been, as always, one very sporting, courteous and well-mannered gentleman. Rafa is no less, as he never fails to remind everyone of his huge admiration of Roger's game. I take my hat off to Rafa for a great game, and for his enormous amount of humility. I think I don't dislike him as much as I used to anymore. ;)

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(image credit: FFT)

Oh, and plus, he actually said sorry for winning the tournament - I was in disbelief when I heard Rafa say that because it's just so amazing, the amount of humility coming from him. He earned new respect from me just from that sentence! Plus, when he said sorry (twice, actually!), Roger had a big smile of amusement on his face - and that makes me feel so glad deep down, because although Roger Federer will always remain my favourite tennis player, knowing that he and Rafael Nadal are good friends is something really awesome.

In any case, the friendship between these two men is, for me, such an amazing testimony of how they set their on-court rivals aside to be good friends.

If you can keep your head when all about you 
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; 
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, 
But make allowance for their doubting too; 
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, 
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, 
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating, 
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

 

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; 
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; 
If you can meet with triumph and disaster 
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run -
Yours is the earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a man, my son!