Breaking news (not)

Robin Uthappa can't bat for nuts. Just batted a maiden over from Malinga when the same bowler went for 17 runs in the previous over. Uthappa is Bangalore's John Buchanan.

Robin Uthappa was

(I feel like a jackass. This post was supposed to go up long back but I procrastinated. Had I posted on time the post would've shown my cricketing acumen and foresight :) )

IPL 2 continues to be miserable for the Royal Challengers. They hardly look like a team. They are just a bunch of people out there waiting for the match to get over. Too bad for Mr. Mallya. Yes, they did beat Rajasthan Royals pretty comprehensively and in matches post that have come close to favorable results but have successfully managed to stay away from the clutches of victory.

And the one big reason for that is that dude, Robin Uthappa. He seems to have totally forgotten how to bat, field and on top of it they got him to keep wickets. Ask for a sure short recipe for disaster. Am beginning to lose faith in all these foreign coaches who would make you believe their bizarre ideas are well thought out strategies. What can possibly explain keeping Boucher out for Uthappa. I mean on one hand you have a player who's proved himself umpteen times and on the other one who can't bat for nuts.

Uthappa on bench will augur well RCBers. The sooner the better.

P.s Finally Uthappa was made to sit out and RCB won the match. Hurrah!

IPLed

This is season 2. And I am gradually taking to monster Modi's creation, the IPL. I am from Punjab and live in Bangalore but seeing some of my favorite cricketers across teams I can't quite decide on my loyalties yet. But if I have to take sides, I'd vouch for RCB because there's Dravid, DD for Sehwag, and MI for Sachin. Also, I support Dada, but not his team owned and run by friggin turds.

The matches have been pretty interesting thusfar with the race for semifinal berth hotting up. And some fine performances from those thought of as ill-fit for this format of the game. Dhoni's frequently delivered banality, 'it depends on how you play on that particulr day', stands true in this format too.

But this is IPL it's not all about the matches and it's certainly not deprived of some of the usual irritants. The biggest being that dumb Bedi lady. She is reason good enough for you to hurl anything heavy in to your TV. I mean seriously if there are cricket fans out there who want to watch some skin they'd rather use the 7.5 mins break to find something more worthwhile on a different channel.

Who can forget the old bore team of commentators, Bhogle and Shastri. My hair stand, just like in the Anchor ad, every time Bhogle doles out another one of his crappy platitudes. Heard him say the longest 'huge' today, for a moment i thought there was some production problem. Please spare us Mr. Bhogle.

Back to the cricket Mumbai Indians just wrecked the match for themselves. They were going pretty fine till the half way mark and then began the collapse. Shikar Dhawan's really a waste, Abhishek Nayar has to be promoted up the order.

For now.

P.s. Harsh Bhogle's been up to something... sample this (verbatim)... "big, big, big, it's coming in to me.... aaaaaaahh"

Sachin Tendulkar: You Beauty

The ball whistles past the gully fielder, who has dread and awe written all over his face. Scenes of a shocked Shane Warne at Sharjah come scurrying back. It was the best display of dominance by an Indian batsman against one of the best bowling attacks in the world.

Eleven years on, nothing much has changed except that a few more masterful strokes now embellish the little champion’s repertoire. One of the best shots being the intentional arc over the slip fielders.

Later this year, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar will complete 20 long years in international cricket with a hunger that outdoes itself frequently. A whole generation has grown-up keeping track of years through Sachin’s centuries and milestones. Like my class 10 physics tuition where the old but jolly Mr. S.P. Singh regularly fed us with scores during his classes. That was around the time Sachin scored a classy century and got Saqlain Mushtaq LBW towards the end to help India register its first victory against Pakistan in 5 years at Sharjah in 1996. Or, when I studied well enough (not) to ensure some big rotund scores in my graduation exams since the master was milking runs down under.

It’s been one heckuva journey, one that you wish never comes to an end. While the Sehwags and Yuvrajs of the world will continue to quench my thirst for the big shots, the elegance, the class, the post-shot nonchalance and the indescribable joy of ball hitting the Mumbaikar's bat will never quite be matched by anyone.

I can’t quite disagree with a spectator at the first test match between India and New Zealand who held up a banner that read ‘When Sachin retires, I will stop loving Cricket’

Laxman Deserves A Better Deal

(Note: This piece was written before Laxman's magnificent century at the Eden Gardens against Pakistan on Saturday, it just didn't go up on time)

1-0 down, Australia eyeing their first series win in the sub-continent after long years. 2nd test match, India made to follow-on, a series defeat staring in the eye. When all was lost and the much touted home record almost mauled by the Aussies one man stood up and changed the course of a dying river.
Vangipurappu Venkata Sai Laxman played the most elegant and arguably the finest innings in the history of test cricket. The stylish batsman from Hyderabad, who is often compared with Azhar for his use of wrists with sublime panache, suddenly became a star batsman in the already star-studded batting line-up.

Since his epic effort at Eden Gardens Laxman has played many a vital knock in the test arena, resurrecting the team from hopeless situations it found itself in, invariably down 4-5 wickets. He might not have scored a couple of dozen centuries but his silent contributions, often batting with the lower order, are enough matter to warrant an unquestionable place for him in the side.

Why then is a player of Laxman’s caliber put under the scanner every second match? What good is a selection committee that is more apt at putting pressure on players, through the media, than evincing confidence in them? Aren’t India’s selection policies flawed? But then that is Indian cricket off the field for everyone, one only needs to reconcile to its vagaries for it is a never-ending, disgraceful saga.

India-Pakistan Encounters – Tale Of Diminishing Zeal?

‘Shabaash, Shabaash Wasim bhai’, Moin Khan’s routine words ring in my ears, the last ball Miandad six still haunts many Indians, memories of Basit Ali’s dogged nonchalant, bubblegum-chewing resistance refuse to die away. Sidhu’s aggressive bat-waving strut, Sachin directing Saqlain to the pavilion, Balaji’s effortless sixes, all have given credence to the great cricketing rivalry between the two neighbors.

Lately, there has been a lot of talk about how the cricketing rivalry between the two arch-rivals has lost fervor and is just another competition in the sport. And as suggested by some experts (in the media too) it’s the overdose that’s killing. While unarguably the tension and animosity have subsided in the last 4-5 years, thanks to the regular meetings of the two sides, but much is being made out of the overdose.

The current series is the 4^th in as many years, and if one recalls each one of the earlier series generated great interest among cricket lovers, the honors were shared evenly by the two sides. Since the last series a lot has happened and a lot has changed. The two teams have seen the despairing lows of the World cup and then an uncharacteristic revival of sorts at the T-20 world cup. After the T-20 final, where both the teams gave the fans an almost-perfect match for a world cup final, one would’ve imagined a rekindling of interest, if at all there was a fall.

So, what is this talk of diminishing interest? Let’s face it, fans have moved on! From looking at success in an Indo-Pak game as the be-all and end-all to enjoying the game, backing their team hard and beyond a point not fretting over the eventual winner. A case in point - the T-20 world cup final, after an enthralling battle the winner hardly mattered. Think for yourselves, when Joginder Sharma was bowling the last over, did you not think even if Pakistan wins I don’t mind for both the teams have played out of their skins?

So, if fans no longer shoot their TV sets, suffer from heart attacks or vehemently hate players from the other side and look at them as aliens, it doesn’t mean that interest in the battle on the pitch is dwindling. They’ve only grown to be appreciative watchers of the game. This welcome change seems to have mushroomed on both sides of the border. It only augurs well for the game. Cricket will never solve the Kashmir issue but at least frequent meetings are reducing the animosity like nothing else.

Agreed the just concluded ODI series failed to generate enthusiasm but the only palpable reason for that is a very lackluster Pakistani side. Pakistan came to India with series defeats in both tests and ODIs against the South Africans behind them and were naturally suffering from a low morale, it was very evident. While there were shades of the old Pakistani zing but the gargantuan abyss was only too prominent. A closely-knit and fighting Pakistani team would’ve meant the series would not just have gone down to the wire but also shut the cynics up.

While cricket between the two nations is definitely not fighting a battle for survival it sure is struggling to make an ‘Ashes’ like place in the hearts of die-hard aficionados.

Does match-fixing still plague sub-continental cricket?

Randomly voyaging through videos on youtube I landed on a video which showed the Pakistani team being felicitated, after their successful tour to India back in 2005. At the event Omar Sharif, the legendary Pakistani comedian, ribbed present and former Pakistani cricketers (Indian too). In the end he had a sane message for all cricket fans, that to trust the players and not rake up the match-fixing doubts every time the team lost a match. A noble thought and perhaps something that needs to be shoved down many a throat.

While I have always been one to quash doubts of rash friends every time they pointed out the probability of a match being fixed, I had an exception the other day. Pakistan vs. South Africa. I joined the match late in the second innings at the office gym; aware that this was the decider I half-heartedly went about dumbbelling my biceps while keeping a close eye on the match. The equation read 35 runs off 56 balls, with Afridi and Misbah at the crease, piece of chocolate cake. After the drubbing that Pakistan received at the hands of SA in the test series I really wanted Pakistan to win the one day series.

What happened over the course of next 20 minutes awakened the cynic in me after long. The equation changed from a comfortable one to being out-of-reach. The batsmen chose to defend when they should have opted for singles, worth mentioning here that the bowling was ordinary and lacked any sting whatsoever. Misbah even ‘well-left’ a couple of deliveries. And as the self-created pressure began to mount, he played an expansive shot and holed out to the cover fielder. The reasons for playing a shot like that are best known to Misbah, for it was an utter disregard of team requirements. Required rate was just under 4 then.

Gifted with a license is Shahid Afridi, license to play the way he deems fit irrespective of the match situation, he didn’t do any harm to that privilege by recklessly swinging at balls when all he should have done was keep the ball on the ground. After one swing too many he too got out playing a Misbah like shot only this time it was a spectacular catch. All this while the required run-rate was hovering between 4 and 5, a very achievable task with recognized batsmen at the crease. Perhaps, Misbah and Afridi wanted to finish off in style, by plundering the South African bowlers. Surely they knew victory would not just have sealed the series for them but made history of sorts, it would’ve been their first ODI series win against SA. Yet, they played the way they did.

With the tailenders at the crease Pakistan had their backs against the wall. And the chokers this time were in no mood to give up on the Biryani served on a silver platter, the tail was cleaned up in no time. Pakistan lost 6 wickets for 20 runs, when the pitch had no evil, bowling was no where close to being caustic, all the batsmen’s doing.

The on-field cameras liberally showed crowds in the stands, the disbelief was palpable. Shock was writ all over Pakistan coach’s face. A series win before the tour to India begins would have helped boost confidence levels. What begot this defeat? Reckless batting or burgeoning bank balances? Tough to make out, but raised eye brows? Aplenty!

The Wall – now cornered

And the present now will soon be the past
The order is rapidly fading
The first one now will later be last
For the times, they are a changing

Words of significance? Dilip Vengsarkar’s pet these days.

Not long days ago Rahul Dravid was at the helm of affairs of Indian cricket, 45 days on the same gentleman finds himself out of the Indian ODI team, 10,000+ ODI runs notwithstanding. The selection committee maintains Dravid has been 'rested' for the first two ODIs against Pakistan beginning next month. Even those who follow the game once in a while would know that 'rested' is a euphemism for dropped. Dravid’s exclusion comes on the back of a string of low scores in the last 8 ODIs. Reason enough?

Surely, one failed series is no indicator of a suddenly arrived old-age or the lack of class and hunger for runs, then what goes inside the minds of Vengsarkar and his men? Is it the twenty-20 triumph that has gone in to the selectors’ heads? Or, is it a genuine step towards building a team for the future? I suspect the former; it’s easy for the selectors to shrug off dismal performances of the past by blaming the seniors in the team. As one journo noted the prevailing attitude, if Zaheer fails to bowl line and length the seniors are to blame, if the team gets tonked for 300+ scores every time the seniors are to blame, if Yuvraj Singh drops a catch even then the seniors are too blame. (I hope our politicians aren’t yet aware of this.)

While there is no gainsaying the fact that Dravid, Tendulkar and Ganguly are at the fag end of their careers and sooner than later there will be a lot of hung boots, but does that warrant the treatment meted out to Dravid or the pressure thrust on the seniors? Indian cricket has been way too unpredictable on the field and its administrators equally autocratic off it, little surprise then the board is yet to find a suitable coach.

Rahul Dravid has always been known as the team man, who gave his all to Indian Cricket; when the time came to pay him back, Indian cricket turned its back on him, the least they could have done was to have faith in him. Sure enough the Bangalorean has a lot of cricket left in him and will make his way back into the team, but things like these leave a bad taste in the mouth.

The next time Sachin and Ganguly take stance, their minds will be pondering over what Mr. Vengsarkar has up his sleeve? Are we next?

Cricket: Mumbai off the radar

The Australians are headed back home after a heated tour of the Indian sub-continent. The one day series ended on a distasteful note with the ugly face of racism resurfacing, this time at the Wankhede in Mumbai. It is really unfortunate to see the Indian crowds behave the way they did at Vadodra and Mumbai, but what’s more disappointing is the crowd behavior at Mumbai. One hasn’t yet come out of the disgraceful affront of Sachin Tendulkar last year at the same venue, and now we have the Symonds incident.

Andrew Symonds was booed when he came in to bat, a ball later walked back to the pavilion and later at the post-match ceremony. Much of the jeering and racial gibberish was doled out by the seemingly educated sections of the crowd. Now, that puts a few things in perspective, one, Mumbai ain’t no more the city that flaunts a compassionate spirit, two, a people that can boo its own home-grown hero can boo anyone. Perhaps, it’s time to look at other cities which better display the Indian ethos and don’t ridicule their own image.

While mindless Indian fans counter the treatment meted out to the Aussies as only just given their aggression and use of unkind words on the field by them, but does that give us a license to racially abuse a sportsperson or for that matter anyone? Such people and the likes of Sreesanth need to realize that the best way to stand up and be counted is performance on the field.

One can only wonder if such an incident were to happen with an Indian player in Australia what would have been the reaction of a billion people, effigies would have been burnt all around, uproar in the parliament, not to forget, ‘headless chickens’ on various news channels would have spent hours dissecting the racial abuse of a hapless Indian player and how the developed world is plagued with racism.

Mumbai and its people have unfurled their ugly side. The Indian cricket board, ironically based in Mumbai, would do well to keep Mumbai off the cricketing calendar for sometime to come.

When the BSE Sensex betrayed Sachin

(Caveat: If you think Sachin should not be in the Indian team anymore, stop, don’t read any further!)

The economic reforms, political turmoil, interspersed cricketing glory, IT supremacy, and robust economic growth, India has seen quite a bit, changed even more, all this in the last two decades. Through this eventful journey if there was one hero that Indians, unanimously, came to love and respect it was, and to a certain extent still is, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

Besides his on-field achievements, what has endeared us Indians to the Bombay Bomber has been his humility and statesman like qualities.

Countless paeans have been written to glorify him, but what the Times Of India did more recently was a totally different, yet interesting, take on the master’s journey, ‘Sensex hits 15K, tracks Sachin - yet again’, comparing his career chart with the rise and fall (repeat) of the Bombay Stock Exchange (BSE) Sensex. Both, in their own way, have captured the imagination of millions of Indians.

Let’s dwell some bit on this relationship.

In the initial stages of the marathon, the Sensex walked shoulder to shoulder with the Bombay Bomber, though both were rather sluggish, the former wedged in the clutches of the ‘closed’ Indian economy and the latter trying to cement his place in the arena.

Fewer ODI matches and low-scoring games, in those days, meant Sachin piled up ODI runs at a slow pace while the Sensex was beginning to reap the benefits of the now famous and well-understood economic reforms of 1991. But the master’s brilliance didn’t take too long to come to the fore and in a few years time Sachin assumed the leader’s role comfortably leaving behind the Sensex that was now on the decline owing to the political instability in the country and uncertain economic policies.

The Sensex remained in awe of the maestro for the next 10 years; Sachin made merry, Sydney to Sharjah, Johannesburg to Port-of-Spain. Once the 10,000 runs barrier was broken any thoughts of a meeting of the two Indian obsessions were imaginary.

The Legend of Sachin

Then came year 2005, the Sensex started trekking on a different trajectory, one that put it back in business. Soon enough it leveled with Sachin, July this year, going on to assume, what now looks like an unassailable lead.

At Vadodara, Sachin stepped on the field for his 400^th ODI match at age 34; if only time was on his side the Sensex with all its vagaries would’ve been a target in Sachin’s orbit. Nevertheless, the journey has been remarkable to say the least, while the stock market has had its fair share of blemishes, Sachin has managed to stay clear of them.

The recent brouhaha over his retirement and the outrageous media campaign to force him (along with Dravid and Ganguly) into retirement, though completely pointless as no one knows better about the right time than the legend himself, has certainly evoked thoughts of a looming vacuum that faces Indian cricket once the master hangs his boots. Runs will be scored, wickets will yet be taken, Indian team will still win matches and bring glory to the nation, but the sheer joy of the ball disappearing from the master’s willow, the undying cherubic smile, and the mischievous googlies will fade into memory.

One can only hope to marinate all that comes from the master in the coming days. While the Sensex strides on toward the 25,000 mark it will surely miss its companion of long!

Smell of the good ol’ days

Australians go in to the 4^th one-day match of the series at Chandigarh with a 2-0 lead and all eyes on an unassailable one. The start of the match is a good 12 hours away yet it has evoked emotions galore within me. The match is taking place at the sector-16 stadium, Chandigarh and not at the one in Mohali (PCA).

The last match staged on this ground was back in 1993, India against England, that was when as an 11 year old I saw my first cricket match at the ground. I still remember the great ease with which we entered the ground considering we (me, mom and a friend) had no tickets. Mom dressed up to match the occasion and perhaps get us inside the stadium under the ruse of students (well, she from college and us from school) who had lost their tickets

That’s precisely what happened. At the security gate, one old gentleman stood checking tickets. Time was ticking, all our attempts at getting in, finding tickets at a premium were in vain. Just then, two guys approached the security gate and called out to the old gentleman. “Bhasin uncle, saanu Baawe ne pejeya hai (Baawa has sent us)”, one look and they were in. We stood there with envy. My mom being the smart woman that she is, urged us to call out to Bhasin uncle, but the shy chickens that we were, we refused.

Scene 2, “Bhasin uncle, saanu Baawe ne pejeya hai”. What followed was a long suspecting look, through and outside the spectacles. Soft gatecrash. We were seated with care in the VIP lounge. Ma, hats off.

It was quite an interesting match, for several reasons. One of them, it was perhaps the first and the only match I saw where an announcement was made to stop the Mexican wave because it was disturbing Sachin Tendulkar who eventually succumbed to the wave for a paltry score (1, if I remember correctly). And then I remember Sidhu planting two huge sixes off the English spin bowling.

Unfortunately, that was the last match that the sector-16 stadium staged for a very long time. Reason, a world class stadium was ready in the neighborhood, Mohali, PCA as we all know it. A truly beautiful stadium with carpet like grass. In the last 14 years people from Chandigarh have only known PCA and the poor sector-16 stadium got lost in the ranks of BCCI’s redundant zonal policies.

But the sector-16 stadium will always hold a special in my heart. It was the place where I played for three years while in school, I still cherish those magical years of my life.

21 January, 1993, was the start of my affair with the sector-16 stadium and cricket.

Going with history India won the last match at this stadium, I am going to protrude my neck and say history will repeat itself tomorrow.

Indian Cricket’s enfant terrible

A week away from cricket is a sure one-off but sometimes a welcome change, for it helps you grow in the eyes of your family. For most fans and erstwhile aspirants it is unthinkable to let go an opportunity to see an international match in the thrilling environs of a stadium. Mine was a gargantuan sacrifice. So, while I journeyed the south of the Indian peninsula, testifying my sacrifice in the larger interest of my travel-hungry siblings, India played Australia at Bangalore.

It poured heavy in Bangalore. Match abandoned. The guilt was now off me and I was able to enjoy the remaining part of our trip. While I trundled along the east coast, the Indian team headed towards the west of Bangalore to the coastal town of Kochi. And rains decided to chase them there too.

The rains stayed away on the day of the match this time. But everything else was the same, the intensity, Indian batting, Australian fielding, and last but not the least the verbal duels. Aussies need no introduction when it comes to sledging and neither does a certain Mr. Sreesanth.

Sreesanth and his theatrics were apparent yet again, this time in front of his home crowd. Not a good enough reason for his rather embarrassing and foolish display of aggression. Obviously the Kerala lad has made enough money, reason why he cares little about fee cuts and perhaps none about impending match bans.

His on-field behavior is no more seen in the same vein as it was when he danced Kathakali alongside an ever so garrulous and annoying Andre Nel, after hitting him for a six, which ironically was a slap for the excessive gutter dished out by Nel. Ever since, this enfant terrible of Indian cricket has been uncontrollable for almost everyone.

Surprisingly, there haven’t been too many people from the Indian cricketing fraternity who’ve chided the erratic fast bowler. Some one needs to knock some sense in to his head, a thin line between bravery and foolishness, between aggression and infantile behavior. Sreesanth knows none.

His supporters (not a surprise all current players) put up a weak defense for him, citing his exceptional talent (yet to be seen) and ability to swing the ball (now, was that really on display in England?).

Considering the fact that his performances at best have been average, the Indian team could well do without this on-field embarrassment. As for Sreesanth he can look forward to displaying his theatrics in his first Malyalam movie!

So much for a game of Cricket

Quickly skimming through a stinker of a mail, I pressed the reply-to-all button (oblivious of that). Looking at my watch I panicked, inside I wrote a short slang message, in cricketing parlance a sledge. Send, click. Done. I tried to locate my boss, who decided to do the vanishing act at the most inappropriate time. ‘Running out of patience on a day when the whole nation is grinding to a halt isn’t that bad after all’, I thought to myself.

India was taking on Pakistan in the final of the Twenty-20 Cricket World Cup, TT as the commentators referred to it. A first in the history of Cricket. The arch-rivals had faced-off on many occasions but this was special. Both teams having played spectacularly through out the tournament had scripted their route to the World Cup final. It was an aficionado’s watch-or-regret-forever match.

On a well-meaning colleague’s advice I left office early to reach home in time for the match. Little did I know what lay in store for me. I scampered to the office parking to catch a passenger Volvo, only to find a few hundred co-workers waiting impatiently. It seemed everyone wanted to see the match, women too. And I thought I was a big fan. Or, maybe it was just another day for them. Not for me.

With no Volvo in sight I started walking briskly toward the outer road to find another bus. My walk probably would have suggested a desperation befitting only someone called hard by nature.

I found a Volvo in no time. ‘Luck, perhaps, is on my side today’, I smiled reassuringly, having placed myself comfortably in one corner. The lady conductor approached, a shrewd-looking lady, she found my oozing enthusiasm rather annoying. And to make that known, she screamed the bus route at me.

I would have to struggle more. This wasn’t talking me too far.

Half panic-stricken I got off the bus thinking by the time I reach home the pre-match analysis would be over. I had still not given up on the pitch report and the toss. Harsha Bhogle, Ravi Shastri, Rameez Raja et al were now thudding my ears. I cursed everyone on road, the perpetual traffic and the blinded traffic policemen to whom it didn’t matter that India was playing Pakistan in the final of a world cup tournament. They walked casually chewing on gutka paans. How much more indifference can one expect?

‘Somebody needs to understand the gravity of the situation’ I grimaced. As my day was gradually unfolding into a rather unpleasing one I realized that auto-wallas were, probably, not that bad after all as they were made to seem.

Not many were available to start with, and the first one blew the lid off me, asking for an amount that was not only exorbitant but unreal. These guys know the pulse of people, when to shamelessly overcharge and when to rightfully overcharge, they seem to know it all. I walked some distance before my cricketing history helped me.

In my cricket playing days (as a school-going boy, if I may add) carrying the kit to the bus-stand was no easy job. The easy thing to do was seek a lift from motorists, who helped almost without fail. Perhaps, it was because a budding cricketer in India was the apple of everyone’s eyes, in those days. And of course people love to be associated with cricketers; any association with one of them makes for good stories in trains, parties, even offices.

In no time my left thumb was wagging. It did my old record no harm that a motorcyclist stopped at once. He probably saw the desperation on my face and empathized. I was now comfortably placed expecting no more twists in the tale. The toss now looked a reality. I thought about all the previous India-Pakistan encounters and their results. The toss was going to be crucial.

In a humdinger of a journey a final twist was waiting in the wings, so Cricket like. The bike broke down! I couldn’t believe my luck had turned on its heel in exactly one hour. I was still some distance away from home. The only way to reach home was the by using the services of the wonderful machine called Auto-rickshaw and their ‘benevolent’ drivers.

With a raw smile pasted on my face, I waved to passing auto-wallas. The wait was not too long but long enough to put me into a tizzy, I was probably going to miss a few balls if not overs. How unfortunate that would be? I felt hadn’t done justice to my self as a former cricket-aspirant and now a true-blue fan.

The auto guy finally stopped in front of my flat. I was home. Mixed emotions galore. Reached home, almost on time but missed out on quite a bit too. And then when I turned on the box, Mohd. Asif was at the end of his run-up ready to bowl the first ball. I was ecstatic. I hadn’t missed a ball, at least.

An Indian fan will always be that, he would want the maximum out of Cricket and his team. I am no different. ‘They better win today, for all the efforts I put in’, I thought aloud. I of course didn’t press myself too much on who forced me to do so, it was an obvious duty.

In the end India did win, Dhoni lifted the cup.

I was a satisfied man left with a visual treat and the prospects of a major showdown with the boss because of the mail fait-accompli. But that’s another matter.

So much for a game of Cricket!!