Badminton. Sitting down, chatting to the doubles partner I just met and played with. Although we had never met before that day, we worked well together; we each knew where we were meant to be on the court and where we should move during the rally, without a single word being said. We dance on the court like reunited siblings. We lose a close game but aren’t too upset, since the other pair were obviously much more trained.

We chat mostly about sports. He shares his best injuries playing rugby and football and his multiple visits to hospital. Gets to be the man of the hour, he says. It must feel good, I reply, then ask how he got into badminton. He pauses a bit at this. Then suddenly:

“You got a kid?”

I shake my head.

“Having a child is probably the craziest thing that has happened to me. When she was born, I felt my ego dissolve a little. The centre of the world was no longer me, but shared with this little angel that was mine – she was mine! Can you believe that?”

I nod.

“And now, my life isn’t to be the man of the hour anymore. It’s to make my girl feel like a queen, because when she wins, I win too. So I had to put aside these sports that were all about me making flashy plays and getting injured, and take care of myself so I can be a better father.”

“She’s the centre of my world.”