IPL and the Shit by the Pool Theory

The recent sting operation by India TV exposed five cricketers who were caught asking for money to bowl no-balls. It’s not as if the earth stopped moving after watching the video (Skip the bullshit, the real action starts at 8:08)

Before anything else, let me make it clear that I don’t take sting operations very seriously. It’s a cheap trick to play, and there is no guarantee that the person is speaking the truth in the first place. Now, if you take Shakti Kapoor, who has spent 15 years of his life playing lecherous characters, get him drunk, and put a hot woman in front of him, obviously he’ll say that the entire industry engages in casting couch. What did they expect? He’ll say “Nahi, beti. Aise kaam nahi karte. Ghar jaake so jao!” ?? In fact, my respect grew for Shakti Kapoor because he didn’t pounce on the girl right away.

Now, if Shalabh Srivastav has to convince the ‘stinger’ to get some money, he has to act cool and nonchalant about it, saying that everyone does it. I am not saying that the IPL is clean as Chidambaram’s chit, just that you can’t take someone’s words seriously when they’re trying to impress someone else.

Looking back, have the owners made an ‘ass’ of themselves??

And also, the IPL was never known to be a fully transparent organisation. Since its inception, unlisted companies with shady backgrounds have been a part of it. Take for example the case of Modi’s kin having stakes in many of the franchises. Or the rules being bent for RCB to buy Chris Gayle in the middle of the 4th season, where he went on to slam his team into the finals. Or how the BCCI is the only organisation where politicians from every major political party work together for the betterment of the game. Or simply how Laxman Sivaramakrishnan is allowed to commentate when he clearly is less interesting than a Class 8 Chemistry teacher.

When the IPL became the money-spinning monster that it is now, many of the veteran sages of the game (Shastri, Gavaskar) had said that the league would primarily benefit domestic players. One cannot deny that salaries have shot up. While a domestic player would earn 450 rupees per day in the 90s, he earns 35,000 per day of a domestic test match. Compare that to the $4.13 billion it earns (figures of 2010) yearly, and it is chickenfeed. The BCCI shares 26% of its profits with the players, the major chunk of it goes to its bigger stars.

Now, to come to the Shit by the Pool theory. Suppose you went to swim in a pool. After a lap, you stop to take rest and notice that there is some pigeon droppings by the side of the pool. Do you feel happy that the shit is not inside the pool you’re swimming in? Or would you assume that there might be lots of shit in the pool too?

Everyone knows that the IPL is a murky field. If India TV wanted to do some serious journalism, they should have asked how people like Vilasrao Deshmukh and Arun Jaitley have such a strong hold over the BCCI? How can the owner of one of the teams be the President of the BCCI? Why does the BCCI not open its accounts for scrutiny under the RTI? Give us that, and then we’ll bother. What’s the point of faaltu mein ruining the careers of five players we haven’t even heard of?

Slowly but surely, this news will pass. Sidhu will say something like “Oye, Guru! Pride is like an underwear. Once there are holes, you cannot wear it.” The Sports Minister will make a little fuss about it. India TV will play the video till the 2014 General Elections.

By the way, aaj kiska match hai?

Sachin and Gandhi : The Bringing Down of an Icon

When Sachin Tendulkar struck his long awaited 100^th century about a month ago in Bangladesh, the nation was supposed to celebrate. He was after all, the darling of the country, someone who has been followed wherever he went for the last two decades, an idol, a role model, even a god. And this was a feat that was never thought achievable in the history of the game, and doesn’t look like it can be broken by anyone else. It was but expected that the nation would go into a frenzy.

The national media did their bit : feature stories describing milestones in his long career, TV channels churned out their bulletins with Jai Ho playing in the background. But on websites like cricinfo.com and youtube.com, there was an outpouring of hatred by fans. Many called Sachin Tendulkar selfish, others said he was playing for records, and that he needs to hang up his boots.

Not once did anyone say that he didn’t look fit on the field, no one spoke about him unable to run, or his eyes and hand-eye coordination getting worse, or anything else related to cricket. The argument was that he was selfish and needed to be dropped.

It was then that I could see a clear reflection of my thoughts a few years back. I was out of my spiritual boarding school. I felt like a free bird, and a rebel. I remember having strong hatred for Gandhi back then. I could attribute some of it to the simultaneous release of three films on Bhagat Singh, but there was more to it than just the release of the films.

I didn’t know enough about Gandhi – just that he was a freedom fighter, and whatever else our books and teachers in school told us about him. There were a few others from our class as well, and we regularly sat together and spoke about Gandhi, along the lines of how he was responsible for all the problems in our country.

Much later, when I read more about him, I learnt that Gandhi was more than just a freedom fighter. And I also realised that most of the opinions I had harboured about him were wrong in the first place. What then, prompted me to hate him so much? I have asked myself this many times, and this is the closest I have come to as an answer.

Throughout our childhoods, we are surrounded by Gandhi, his principles, his photos, his teachings, his songs, his stories, and films on him. We had a subject called Human Values and books by Gandhi were used as our course material. This ubiquity, after a point, felt suffocating. And to be able to criticise Gandhi seemed like an act of rebellion for me. I did not understand him enough, so I went ahead and made my own opinions, often basing them on things my friends (who were equally, if not more ignorant) told me. Through some twisted logic, we believed that Gandhi was responsible for the partition, and that he was a propagator of Hindutva.

I have made my peace with Gandhi today. I have learnt to dissect his public from his private life, and have learnt to look at things with a broader perspective. But when I see criticism of Sachin Tendulkar, I can’t help feel that he has reached the same stage as an icon.

The most common criticism about him is that when he scores a century, India loses the match. This fact automatically translates to him being a selfish player who is intent on achieving personal milestones. This could not be further away from the truth.

The nature of the game of cricket itself means that individual performances are not as crucial to a side’s fortunes, as it is with other games. Take football, for example, where a goal by a single player could tilt the match totally in the favour of the team, thus critically affecting the match. In cricket, batting is just one aspect of the game. A century by no means implies that the team is going to win the match, because the game is divided into two halves – batting and bowling – and each of the aspects affect the match equally.

To further illustrate my point, let me give you the example of the match between South Africa and Australia in the March 2006. Australia batted first and scored 434, the highest score ever in a One Day International, and the first time any team had crossed 400 runs in 50 overs. Australia, however, lost the match at the end of the day because South Africa was able to score 438, thanks to the shoddy bowling by the Australians.

There have been umpteen such examples where individual performances did not result in the team winning the match, and this by no means implies that the performances weren’t good enough, it just means that the other aspect of the game wasn’t good enough on the day. That it happens with surprising regularity with Sachin is a reflection of our universally acknowledged poor bowling skills, and not because his centuries are not good enough.

Here, let me take you back a little into the past again. This was in the same phase when I was vehemently against Gandhi, circa 2005. Sachin Tendulkar at that time had been struggling for a year or so to score his 35^th Test century, one that would result in him beating Sunil Gavaskar’s then highest 34. He was suffering from recurring back injuries, tennis elbow, and seemed nervous and edgy in the crease. I was among the many that rooted for his retirement from the game.

I remember the day he scored the century, this is what he said to the media – “Landmarks happen. You just go and bat because you want to bat well and get runs for your team. If you chase landmarks then it becomes a problem.” He made it clear that the fans had been demanding the century for a long time, and that it was quite stressful. I remember reading it with cynicism.

However, if I look back at the incident now, I realise he knew what he was talking about. If he had retired then, we wouldn’t have witnessed some of the greatest knocks in the history of the game. He went on to make a spectacular comeback, a resurrection that culminated with him becoming Player of the year in 2010. We wouldn’t have seen his knock of 200, or his crucial role in the World Cup last year.

It is actually a matter of great credit to Sachin Tendulkar that no one is talking about the way he is playing his cricket, how he is running between the wickets, or his fitness. The criticism is always generic – that new blood needs to be infused into the team, and that it is high time he retired. From my experience seven years ago, I know that the decision to retire is best left to Sachin himself.

With the ruckus about him becoming an MP, I can see a clear link between my criticism of Gandhi back then, and the criticism Sachin faces today. It is not to do with him as a cricketer. It has got more to do with the rebellion involved in the bringing down of an icon.

Karan Thapar vs Kapil Dev

 

The year was 2000. My heroes, idols and inspirations all lay on the floor, humiliated and accused. The game I had played for most of my life, and one day (foolishly) hoped to play was hit by the matchfixing scandal.

It was the time when private news channels were sprouting everywhere, and India was seeing a shift from the behenji on Doordarshan news, to the sansani-sensation style of reporting.

Karan Thapar was acquiring a reputation for being a hard-hitting interviewer, and was working with BBC.

This was the time when Kapil Dev, arguably India’s biggest cricket icon then, was also named in the list of cricketers accused of throwing away matches for money.

Kapil Dev was our fathers’ Sachin Tendulkar. There was something that was endearing about Kapil Dev, to make him an icon of an India that emphasised on honesty, simplicity and hard work. The way he played his cricket, his opinions, even the products he endorsed, had a lack of sophistication to them.

Kapil Dev was invited to an interview by Karan Thapar.

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To his credit, Kapil Dev was the only one among those accused to have agreed to do an interview in the first place. None of the others – Azhar, Jadeja, Mongia, or Prabhakar had come on a show to defend themselves.

I personally think Kapil Dev took the interview a little less seriously. You can see he is dressed casually in khaki shorts. Kapil’s naivety probably led him to think it would be an ‘Aap ka Adalat’ kind of a show where jingoistic lines win you applause from the audience, and emotional dialogues are given prominence.

Clearly, Kapil Dev did not know much about Karan Thapar.

With a degree in Economics and Political Philosophy from Cambridge, Thapar was also the President of the Cambridge Union, and had won awards for his work, and a reputation of being a no-nonsense interviewer.

It was an interesting clash: a hard-hitting, articulate, informed journalist. And a man who had the reputation of being spontaneous, honest and hardworking.

Like Ravi Shastri would say, “You can expect something big here…”

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The interview began slowly, with questions on cricket, integrity and some facts. Gradually, the questions got straight to the point. Thapar has this way of getting statements out of his interviewees. He asked Kapil straight – “So you’re telling me that you never accepted any money to fix a match?”. And then asked the same question four times over.

I must say I am not a huge fan of the Karan Thapar style of interviewing. An incisive, caustic approach is fine when you have a corrupt politician to interview, but it restricts you to doing ‘investigative’ sort of interviews.

I believe a good interview is one in which the person feels comfortable and has opened up to you – impossible when you have Karan Thapar looking into you from above.

Kapil took it for a few minutes, this was clearly something he wasn’t prepared for. The usual respect and praise that he people gave him everywhere he went wasn’t there. There was Karan Thapar, and his questions, and it was getting hotter by the minute.

After about ten minutes, there was a tear in Kapil’s eye. He asked for a few moments off, which of course, Karan Thapar did not give him.

Instead, the camera zoomed in on him further. Thapar pushed on with the interview.

Kapil Dev was sobbing now. He spoke in a high-pitched, girly voice – nothing like the man who held the World Cup in his hands. Even after his breakdown, the interview carried on for a good ten minutes, as everyone watched in stunned silence.

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More than a decade has passed since the interview, and that remains the worst shame to have come across cricket.

Was Kapil involved? No one knows for sure.

While Manoj Prabhakar kept saying that Kapil was aware of matchfixing, and there were doubts about a fan having ‘gifted’ Kapil a BMW. However, in the investigations that followed, Kapil’s name never came up.

It’s hard to see Kapil as a matchfixer. There is no science behind this, but the swagger that Azhar had made it easier for me to deal with the truth that he wasn’t entirely honest. Ajay Jadeja never had too much character anyway.

But Kapil??

No one knows what really happened. The matchfixing incident became a ghost of the past, and India quickly grew to become a country that controlled cricket all over the world.

But this episode with Karan Thapar remains one of the most riveting interviews in the history of Indian telejournalism.

Watch the clip here: Link

The Diary of Rahul Dravid

April 22, 1991: Dear diary,

Today was the first day I seriously considered a career in cricket. Parents want that I do my engineering, but I know they will support me if I told them about it.

Tarapore sir spoke to me today and I felt confident about it. It has always been there, somewhere at the back of my mind. If there was anyone stopping me, it is my doubts. I have only been playing the game for seven years now, and there are some who have been playing for more than a decade now. There are so many who are better, but after Tarapore sir spoke to me about it, I felt I have a chance.

Will speak to dad.

23 June, 96 – All those classes I (unwillingly) bunked, all those hours at the net, have finally borne fruit. My father would have been proud!

I had seen it a thousand times in my head before it happened, but walking into Lords with my bat, I had no words to describe the feeling. I was in the middle with this other new guy called Dada. He has a bit of an attitude, that guy, but he’s a nice bloke.

Batting in England is not as difficult as I thought. I stuck to the basics, and the ball seemed to be hitting the bat nicely. I could not make a century though, so I guess the name of the board can wait.

The team is a nice outfit. There are guys I looked upto, like Azhar (What wrists man, that guy!) and youngsters like me, Dada, and Sachin. Even though I had my doubts in the beginning, I think if I can bat out 30 overs in an innings, I have done my job.

But the journey has just begun. Let’s see how it goes from here…

May 21, 1997: Even though the last year has been good for me, getting my place in the ODI team has proven to be a little difficult.

I like the freedom that comes with Tests. I can leave the ones I don’t want to play, and drive the ones I’m absolutely confident about. But One Day cricket has changed so much, and when India scored 306 in Sharjah last year, 300s don’t seem such a big score anymore.

I got my first century today – 107, while chasing, and Chennai was at its hottest! It was satisfying, getting the first ODI century, but the day did not belong to me. Saeed Anwar scored 194 – the highest score in an ODI. It was a nice innings, but Shahid Afridi ran almost 150 of his runs for him.

Take nothing away from Anwar though – brilliant innings! I wish India had some bowlers to support Sri and Venky. I see those guys put in so much effort, bowling in flat conditions at 40 degrees, but there is no one to support them.

But anyway, I think if I put in lots of effort (especially in my shot selection), ODIs will not be as difficult as I thought.

March 15, 2001: WITHOUT DOUBT THE GREATEST MATCH OF CRICKET I HAVE BEEN A PART OF!!!

Eden Gardens is something else!! No matter how much you play here, it feels like home always. As I write this, the resulting madness is yet to sink in. Who would have thought that after being asked to follow on, we would go on to win the match? Bhajji sure is a talent to look out for (he has some temper issues though, and I pity the person who ends up at the receiving end). He took a hattrick, and you should have seen the Australian faces. I was tempted to give them a taste of their own medicine – but I refrained at the last minute. It wouldn’t be the civilised thing to do.

We really needed something like this victory. After last year, the fans had lost respect for the team and the players. Every bad performance was blamed for ‘paison ke liye khelta hai’, and some of the biggest names in our team were disgraced. We really needed something like this.

My innings was satisfying. But the day did not belong to me. Laxman played like he was possessed. What an innings!

Will write more later, Sachin has just opened the bottle of champagne!

23 March 2003: So near yet so far!

We have been working really hard on becoming a competent One Day side over the last few years. The last two years have easily been the best of my career, and thankfully have coincided with an uprising in the Indian team. We are not the genteel, pushovers that we were thought of earlier. Dada has changed we are looked at as a team. I kept wickets throughout the tournament so that we could play an extra batsman, and I think that was crucial to our performance throughout, as many matches had contributions from the likes of Yuvraj and Sanjay Bangar.

We should have fielded better in the final. Also, our lack of bowling experience showed. Sri has been shouldering the burden for long now, and the rest were newbies. It was disheartening, but that’s the game, I guess. There are talks of a new coach being appointed this year. Let’s hope that changes our fortunes for the better.

12 September 2007: I had to take the decision, and I have conveyed my message to the selectors. When Dada was sacked as the captain from the team and I agreed to take over, I had no idea what was in store for me. The disastrous World Cup didn’t help matters at all, and as the captain I take responsibility for the decisions made.

This new guy with long hair – Dhoni, seems quite promising, and Sachin speaks highly of him. He seems to have a calm head over his shoulders and has no issues calling a spade a spade. Something I haven’t been able to do, I must admit.

September16, 2009: When I was recalled into the ODI team after two years, I must admit I was surprised. While many said it was only because we are unable to play in foreign pitches, I don’t see it as a bad thing. It is my team, and I will play for them if they want me to.

What surprised me, however, was that I was dropped a month later, and there was no reason given. I understand the selectors have a high-pressure job and every decision is scrutinised by a cricket-mad nation, but a note explaining a reason. Is that asking for too much?

January 29, 2011: When we set out to Australia in December, few would have thought it would be our worst outing down under in the last decade. I was hopeful of a good show, given the England series. It was disappointing on many levels, and not getting runs was just one of them. Form is temporary – I can deal with that. It was the getting bowled match after match that disappointed me the most. My catching seemed rusty in the series, a problem that has persisted since the England tour.

 

 

March 8, 2012: Woke up to read the newspaper today and read an article about the need for selectors to take ‘bold decisions’. It made me smile. I remembered reading a similar article 19 years ago by Rajan Bala, and I remembered how much hope it gave me. I trained harder in the nets, and read the article again and again, as it seemed that if my efforts were true, they would be rewarded.

It hasn’t been such a bad journey, but it’s time. I know it.

 

Virender, Say wha?

So the tragedy that was the Australian test series is finally over. I return to my room and open cricinfo to find a shocking comment by Virender Sehwag that says, “Even we won 2-0.”

In one line, that sums up our attitude to cricket. Hanging on to past laurels, past heroes, and past glories.

It also shows a reckless nonchalance.

I am not a fool. I understand cricket is just a game. That a team cannot win all the time. But how can a team lost all the time? And then say that we won in India 2-0??

That Virender Sehwag is the captain of the team, and has the sheer balls to say this speaks highly about how cricket is run in our country.

For years, Sehwag has puzzled fans and cricket analysts. Blessed with impeccable timing and hand-eye coordination, it is a known fact that he can take any attack to the cleaners. There is no method behind the madness, and his batting is based on the principle of ‘See ball-hit ball’. In spite of his faulty technique, he is adored by most Indian cricket fans for  his ‘Devil May Care’ attitude.

Now, I understand he has a faulty technique. That his feet don’t move much.

But I am tired of the commentators saying “But that’s how he plays his game. You can’t do much about it.” Really?

So Rahul Dravid scores thousand runs in the previous year, and failure in one tournament results in people baying for his blood. And one guy has not scored a century in four years overseas, and not only is he a part of the team, he gets to lead it? On the basis of what? A fucking one day double century??

In my not so humble opinion, if you have been playing cricket for eleven years, and if you have an obvious problem with your technique, and you have a coach, technical staff and the world’s richest body behind you, you can very well work on your problem. It is not  something you were born with.

Why not correct the problem? Isn’t that what great sportspersons do? Adapt to situations, grounds, and opponents?

Refusing to alter your technique proves that you are an obstinate idiot.

And it is not his abysmal scores I have a problem with. It is the manner in which he got out. There was a certain arrogance in his dismissals. Stand around for a few overs, drive a few balls into the covers. And then slash hard, hole out to the slips, and walk back to the pavilion.

I’m sure if Rahane, Pujara or Chopra was chosen for the tour, they would have put in at least some effort into their game. That they’d show some balls by seeing off the new ball and applying pressure on the bowling as the ball got older. Isn’t that what opening an innings in a Test match about?

I’m appalled at the BCCI think-tank about their selection in the test series. How can you squander off an entire tournament hoping for one blitzkrieg 70 off 55 balls? Or would you rather choose a player with a sound technique, someone who is willing to learn to adapt to conditions?

Sehwag, of course, can continue playing in the sub-continent. No on is questioning his credentials here. He can pelt bowlers around the globe in Rajkot and Gwalior. Why do we need to take him along to international tours even though he hasn’t performed for four years?

Since it has been five years now, one can safely say that the only person who has benefited from the IPL is Lalit Modi, who is chilling on some island, surrounded by a few laid-off Kingfisher girls. Instead of participating in stupid Delhi Daredevils vs Kochi Tuskers matches, why can’t Indian cricketers be sent to play county cricket abroad? It would pay them a lot less, but it would give them ample time to spend away from the mad frenzy of Indian cricket fans. And a lot of time to improve their technique by playing in conditions without the immense pressure that accompanies Indian matches.

Even though Ravi Shastri would use the word ‘great’ to describe Celina Jaitley’s performance in ‘Jawani Deewani’, greatness does not lie in being blessed with immense talent. Greatness lies in honing it, in learning, and adapting. Greatness stands the test of time.

Unless Sehwag adapts himself and alters his technique, he will remain a one-dimensional player who knew to play only in one gear. Who was the most dangerous batsman in the world when the ball didn’t bounce higher than the knees.

And when the conditions didn’t suit him, he just slashed at the ball, turned, and walked back to the pavilion.

Change the Game, Bend the Rules

Considering the spectacular way in which India is getting its ass kicked down under, I refuse to talk about the cricket.

Thankfully, our cricketers are engaging in other activities to take our minds off mundane things such as scores and results. Like raising fingers. Now, raising fingers is not a nice thing to do. But its ok to show someone a finger if they abuse your ‘mother and sister’. I mean, how can someone do that?

And why was such a ruckus being made about it? He just showed a finger. At least he didn’t walk into the stands and bludgeon the hell out of the spectator like Inzamam-ul-Haq did in Toronto. And that poor fellow had not even called his family names. He had just said the word ‘aloo’. Innocuous, if you ask me.

But keeping the finger incident aside, another issue that has become a juicy bone of contention is the UDRS rule. The Australian media seems to have problems with the Indian team’s stance on the subject. We are being called selfish bullies. But here’s the sad part, you guys. We have the money.

You can cry and crib about how we are a dominant power that is misusing their power. Sadly, no one will give a fuck. We are the USA of cricket. We enter a nation, bombard it, and step out. Apart from some cribbing, there is nothing much you can do about it.

And what is this UDRS thing? Cricket is a game where one fellow bowls, one bats, and the other appears in Fair and Lovely ads. Why complicate it by bringing in this UDRS-IVRS mumbo-jumbo?

And something or the other has been coming up all the time. A few months back, the ICC looked into the issue of batsmen taking runners out of the batting innings. For many like me, that was shocking.

I mean, what the hell does that have to do with anything? If running between wickets was so important, Mohd. Kaif would have been delivering the Bradman Oration in Australia.

I know there are those who will say that Saeed Anwar had Afridi run 130 of his 194 runs, and that Sachin ran through every single in his 200. Accepted. But when a dude sitting in a bar can predict a no ball, and players are shot by terrorists, there are clearly other important issued that need discussion. Of course, Sunil Gavaskar had an opinion on the issue, and also said that bowlers taking energy drinks from the boundary should be banned. What next? Banning players from having hand towels cos it might encourage them to throw in the towel during a tense match??

In a country where most of the ‘cricket’ is played with ‘tennis’ balls, all this doesn’t make sense. I don’t know about you, but when we played cricket as children, there were some flexible rules. Cricket is a gentlemen’s game, its not unruly like ice hockey.

In keeping with the theme of the sport, we had a lot of rules that made the game more relaxed, and more enjoyable. I have compiled below a few of those rules from the days when the gentleman’s game was still a gentle game.

Late Run: The batsman may not take a run ‘late’. This means that the batsman cannot take a run after the bowler has received the ball.

You see, many things could interrupt a match of cricket. The ball falling into a ditch, a senior throwing the ball away, or the players realising that there is a hole in the ball. Taking advantage of such situations was unethical, and such runs were called ‘Late Runs’. The opposing team could protest against this, and the run is not included in the total score.

Single Batsman: In the case of all the batsmen of the team getting out, the lone batsman can continue batting. He runs all the runs himself. There are special circumstances where the batsman might have to run to the bowler’s end and come back for it to be counted as one run.

The ‘Single Batsman’ rule was used when the team had one star batsman. In our days, if you owned the bat, you could truly “change the game”. This resulted in matches when all the batsmen would get out, but one could bat on till the end of the overs. (The ones who owned the bat never got out, of course)

International Wide: As children, not all of us knew how to bowl overarm. There were a lot of us who had half actions, However, to be recognised as a bowler, you had to show some effort. So the bowlers would run, turn their arm, and fling the ball. You couldn’t just stand, aim and shoot the ball. That was against the spirit of the game.

However, if you bowled a truly disreputable ball, like one that bounces at good length and swings towards fifth slip, it was called an International Wide.

Such a ball could be penalised with one run, or sometimes with two, depending on whose side the bat-owner was on.

Baby Over: With the absence of Cartoon Network and mission games, and the most exciting thing on television being Alif Laila, we were probably the last generation that played in the evenings.

The evening cricket was not just about playing cricket. Excelling in the game could make you famous, and win you lots of friends. However, the worst insult in the game would be the Baby Over.

It basically meant an over that was so bad that it had to be aborted in between. So if a bowler has bowled nine wides in three legal deliveries, the captain could call on another bowler to finish the over. This aborted over would be called ‘Baby Over’

One Tup Out: The batsman can be ruled out if a fielder catches the ball after it has pitched once (one tup), if the catch is claimed cleanly, and with one hand.

Our school had cricket fanatics. Guys who would cut and paste every picture of cricketers they found anywhere – newspapers, magazines, stickers, labels, t-shirts, and save them in a scrap book for years. Whenever we could, we would sneak in a game of cricket. The one tup rule was used when there was a constraint of space in the game. Like in a dormitory,

or the back of a classroom, or in the bathroom, or the corridor, or between the rows of benches in the classroom, or the side of a pitch where seniors would be playing.

Trials: The first ball of the first over. The bowler comes running in. The batsman defends, but the ball goes through the gate and hits the stumps. The fielders celebrate. The batsman, however, looks up, gives a Buddha-like smile and says “I told ‘trials”.

‘Trials’ was the rule that came to the rescue of batsmen who had the tendency of getting out on the first ball. Arvind Mukund should ask Sharad Pawar to ask the ICC to bring this rule into force. So, when a batsman asks for ‘trials’, he is asking the bowler to bowl him one ball, to ‘try’ things out. To see the bowler, his pace, the bounce in the pitch, the hardness of the ball, etc etc. After the batsman has faced the ball, he says ‘Reals’, and then the real game begins. Shopping malls have adapted the system of ‘trials’ as part of their strategy, but the real credit must be given to ‘mundu’ cricket, which magnanimously believes in giving the batsman a test ride before the real match begins.

Needless to say, owning the bat gave the batsman the luxury of having as many ‘trials’ as he wanted. Also, he didnt have to actually say the word ‘trial’. Just thinking it would suffice.

There were many such rules that were flexibly introduced depending on the situation/ground/age of the players involved. You see, winning or losing was not important. What was important was that the bat and ball were available for the next day’s play. The spirit of the game could wait till we were old enough to have beer.

Now, if the ICC is really serious about promoting the game to other parts of the world and making it player and spectator friendly, it should consider bringing in some of the rules.

Why should Australian guys have all the fun??

The Most Annoying Indian Commentators

Maninder Singh: Maninder Singh was signed by Doordarshan as a part of their historic show – Fourth Umpire. Between ads of Mysore Sandal Soap and Dandi Namak, Maninder Singh peppered the match with his own wit and understanding of the game.

He’s a nice chap and all that. Friendly, smiling, and safely neutral. He does not have the balls of Navjyot Singh Sidhu, nor any radical suggestion. But he has the one outstanding quality that is required of a Doordarshan commentator – boredom.

Maninder Singh can make Inception seem like Shaadi No.1. Picking out the most obvious and boring points in every department of the game, Maninder Singh was instrumental in maintaining the brand and image of Doordarshan.

Then he got caught doing cocaine.

Atul Wassan: It is said you don’t have to enter the ditch to see if it is dirty. Atul Wassan follows the same principle when it comes to commentary. Having played for India for a full year, Atul Wassan uses all his acumen and understanding of the game to criticize everything – from Rahul Dravid’s footwork, to Dhoni’s follow through.

What makes Atul Wassan a handy commentator is his ability to easily shift from English to Hindi – and successfully transform the most exciting match into a drab affair, but easily understood by the entire nation.

Arun Lal: is the only one to have truly crossed over from Fourth Umpire to the Big League. Arun Lal can be regularly found pissing off firang commentators, and making them smile with his jokes, after he has had a hearty laugh at them himself.

Arun Lal is also heard in the IPL, where he displays extremely creative usage of terms like Karbonn Kamaal Catch and DLF Maximum. Sample this.

“The minimum they need is a DLF maximum. HAHAHAHA”

Kindly note the clever juxtaposition of the word minimum next to the word maximum. Very very clever. Arun Lal truly is dharti ka laal.

Ravi Shastri: I know many of you will be shocked to find Shastri in the same list as Maninder Singh and Arun Lal. But fact is, Ravi Shastri is the Jackie Shroff of cricket commentary. Very popular at one time, and a rambling, has-been at present, Shastri’s booming voice has become as pleasant to the ears as the Nokia ringtone.

He says the same thing over and over again. “That’s just what the doctor ordered. He knew exactly what he was doing. That’s gone to the boundary like a bullet. Clean as a whistle. Lofted in the air, high and mighty.” It is a barrage of similies, proverbs, one-liners and comparisions that are as old as the hills.

The revelation that Shastri and Gavaskar are paid by the BCCI to air the views of the board wasn’t shocking to me at all. On some days, Shastri has this distinct, drunk look on his face, you wonder if he took one large swig and sat down in the commentary box.

The icing on the cake was the toss of the World Cup final. MS spins the coin, and this is when the commentator should announce what was called. Shastri has no clue what’s going on, and then after everything is over, turns to the camera and says,

“We will do this again. The problem? The noise”, he says, pointing to his ear.

I was a tad disappointed him and Gavaskar didn’t break into the naagin dance after the World Cup was over.

One of those days when Shastris not Sobers! 😉

Sunil Gavaskar: The Holy Man of cricket, the God under whom every Indian cricketer, critic and fan is supposed to bow down and pray. Gavaskar has an opinion on everything, even when it is not related to Indian cricket. Not that it’s a bad thing.

The only problem is that he makes sure everyone around him knows what he feels, and agrees with him. Watching him have a go at the Australians is fun, but only for five minutes. After that, it is a preachy sermon on ethics and values, and how cricket has been degenerated because of T-20, and ethics aren’t a part of cricket anymore.

Here, I would like to point out two incidents. One, the 1980 Australian tour, where on being given out, Sunil Gavaskar wasn’t very pleased. It’s funny to see him lecturing on the need to be ‘walk’ when judged ‘out’. Well, walk he did. Only, he took his non-striker along with him, and refused to play the match. Not very ethical, are we?

The second grudge I have against Gavaskar is his criticism of T20. He very smartly avoids saying the word ‘IPL’ in his rants, but serves along with Shastri as part of the IPL’s Governing Council. Why not quit that job and work towards promoting Test cricket? Or better still, why not just accept the money and shut the hell up?

It’s this hypocrisy that makes me puke.

Gavaskar, Shastri and Bhogle share inside jokes and giggle around, screw the match and the audience. Coz apart from the regular match fees, they are being paid 3 crores to pass the BCCI’s word. Who gives a fuck?

According to a news report last month, it was reported that “the two respected opinion makers have been contracted by the BCCI for an annual fee of Rs 3.6 crore each to spread the Board’s gospel – on issues such as UDRS, IPL, or umpiring decisions that may be adverse to Indian interests.”

A “senior BCCI member” is quoted as saying “They cannot say anything that goes against the policy or interests of the Board,” A “top BCCI official” is also quoted saying “Yes, both Shastri and Gavaskar are employed with the Board as commentators. We tell the TV companies that they have to take them on board as our official commentators,”

If only they asked the audiences what we thought of their opinions!

Harsha Bhogle: Probably the most disappointing of the lot is our man Harsha Bhogle. For many years, Harsha Bhogle was our man in the box. He was not a cricketer, but had a fair understanding of the game, and made interesting conversations with the experts. He brought in views that spectators feel, and showed that it is possible to understand the game without being old, or boring.

But then, he got himself a hair transplant. For me, that was selling out.

Ever since, Harsha Bhogle is all over. He has written books on cricket, on success, on winning, and picking one’s nose. Anything you need to know, Mr. Bhogle will be there to tell you. He started writing articles on how other sports can catch up with cricket, and how Team India is the prime example of leadership skills. He sold tea, and gyaan, and advice, and started sounding exactly like Shastri and Gavaskar.

Now, after two decades, I think it is time for Shastri, Gavaskar and Bhogle to retire. There isn’t anything new or original they say anyway. And the BCCI could save 7.2 crores a year, and use it judiciously for other things that have long been pending.

Like that surgery for Shreesanth at NIMHANS.

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(PS: I know many of you will demand for Sidhu to be put on the list. But may I gently remind you that Sidhu is not just a commentator. He is a laughter critic, an MP, and an entrant into Bigg Boss. Such varied interests transcend the realms of a mere commentator, and deserve special mention. Also, I don’t wish to meet Sidhu at a parking lot!)

Is Sachin the greatest ever??

We are at the threshold of yet another tournament, and the one constant feature in every article is Sachin’s 100th century. For the last two years, pretty much everything the guy has done has been some record or the other. I wonder how the media doesn’t get tired of the same stuff, over and over again.

Another annoying part of every tour, is the habit of journos asking others if they think Sachin is the best batsman in the world. Over the years, we have asked former Test players, opposition captains, talking parrots, Ganesha, veteran stars, new Mumbai Indians recruits, and Atul Wassan, if they think Sachin is the best batsman in the world.

We ask the same question, and expect the same answer. We are outraged if one of them doesn’t consider Sachin as the greatest player. It is almost as if we need a certification from everyone in the world that he is indeed, the best.

Along with our craze for fake accents and the Oscars, this is another bit of colonial crap we are yet to wipe off our asses – this constant desire to get the world to acknowledge his greatness.

Fact is, how will an Australian truly understand what Sachin means to us?

The Australian doesn’t know what it feels like to see Sachin go out to bat. The hopes that lie on his shoulders, and the agony of listening to ‘Saala, records aur paison ke liye khelta hai’, the minute he gets out cheaply. How many times would his heart have crashed, when Sachin got out, and the innings crumbled with less than 15 runs to get?

How will the Australian understand that for about a decade, Indian cricket began and ended with Sachin Tendulkar? How can you explain that after Sachin got out, the others to follow would be Sanjay Manjarekar, Vijay Dahiya, Venkatapathy Raju and Dodda Ganesh? How will you explain the agony of winning a test, dedicating it to the 26/11 victims, and then being questioned by the intelligence of Bal Thackeray, if he truly understands what Mumbai is about.

The Australian would never understand the pressure of playing Pakistan in a World Cup. He wasn’t there when Sachin stood rock-solid and unblemished, when the country’s greatest heroes brought shame and dishonour the country. He has not grown up watching ads of Sachin, he has not seen him grow up – from a teen to a father – under scrutiny by everyone in the country, all through his life, and never so much as putting a wrong step.

A foreigner will not understand what Sachin truly means to us. A country with shitty roads, and pathetic public amenities, and daily depressing reports of killings, blasts, corruption and scandals. He will not appreciate that Sachin is the only bright spot in our otherwise morose state of affairs.

There is no need to ratify his greatness. An approval from Courtney Walsh or Shane Warne is not going to make him a notch greater. And a disapproval is not going to make him a lesser player.

It’s just a stupid question, being put forward by a lazy journalist. Pay no mind to it. These are his last few years in cricket, just sit back and enjoy seeing him bat. There is no need of a sanction from others to make him the greatest ever.

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Oh btw, if you ask me, he IS the greatest player of all time!!

Joy to the World, IPL is done!

After the rant on the World Cup ads, it is only fitting that I do a review on this year’s IPL as well. For those who are visiting from Neptune, the Indian Premier League is the world’s second largest sporting franchise. In just four years, the league has created a worth of 3.67 billion dollars.

While it is true that Indians love cricket, and will watch the highlights of a Zimbabwe vs Bangladesh match on a Sunday afternoon, there is something more than just the Indians’ love for cricket that keeps the IPL going.

IPL is truly the first by-product of Bollywood and cricket. Well, there is Saif Ali Khan, but he took really long to take off. IPL has been able to cater to the two largest categories of people in India: those who watch cricket and those who watch films. The only ones left out are terrorists, babas, and the Monkey Man. And Indians are a loving and forgiving audience. How else can you explain a Sanjay Manjarekar, who had no skills to talk of managing to play for ten years? And Suneil Shetty, whose greatest competition is himself and a few trees, still manage to remain in the news?

IPL has been able to bring together both these loving and forgiving audiences and given them something new to trip over every evening, for 45 evenings a year. So Shilpa Shetty is the Big Sister of the Rajasthan Royals, and manages to bring Small Sister to the matches too, thereby ensuring her television time as well. And girls fromDelhiwould say “Yo! KKR rawx” on Facebook even though their knowledge of cricket would be limited to the idea that ‘no ball’ is a physical condition.

The biggest difference this year was the absence of the creator, Mr. Modi himself. For three years, Modi lived his dream, rubbing shoulders with Bollywood actresses, having a million followers on Twitter and the like.

Citi Moments of Success and DLF Maximum have become a part of everyday lore. There is a match everyday and the newspapers trying to make things look interesting every morning. This year wasn’t much difficult. Preity Zinta’s team still sucks, the cheerleaders still jump and laugh in joy after every boundary.

The Good: There cant be much good left in the fourth edition, excepting Rocky IV, but this year, there was something that was a treat to the fans: Chris Gayle. Its really marvellous, the impetus a nice fat package does. This IPL, he was Krish Gayle: he booted the bowlers out of the pack, took wickets in every match, and dived while fielding. I mean, when did you see Chris Gayle dive for anything? But this year, its as if Chris crashed into Mallya’s party and said “Yo maan! Wassap? Gimme ma Passat”. Turning out one champion performance after another, it really was a treat to watch Gayle when he is in that kind of form and Venkatesh Prasad is in the same team, and will not be bowling.

It was a little sad to watch Shane Warne bow his hat. Like his international career, Warnie did it with typical showman charisma. Coached and captained the leanest team to victory, and retired when he still had it. But the end has to come, and Warne, with Liz Hurley at his side, looks ready for a new kind of match, and one can only wish him luck, and remind him that it is possible to track and retrieve text messages. Apart from these two, I cant see much that was special this year.

There were a lot of things to crib about, though, and we shall analyse each of them one by one.

Advertisements: Zoo-zoos managed to retain interest, thanks to some good ads. Many of the other ads were repeats from the World Cup, but trust Shah Rukh to come up with something new for his fans.

KKR ads are like SRK films: loud and dramatic. Through all his ads, he seems to be asking his fans if they really are smarter than a fifth grader. So this year, they came up with a campaign through which fans could pass on a message to the cricketers. So how do you show that you can get your voice across to the team? Ok, how about this? We make Shah Rukh speak in the voices of the people. Very subtle.

So there are ads where SRK walks into the dressing room and asks his team to drink lassi, burst bubblewrap, and gives a player a head massage.. Fans of Dan Brown will say this could be a hint as to why Dada left the team. May Champ didn’t want a Champi from Champu.

The rest of the ads were the typical IPL ads, hastily made, and in poor taste.

Commentary: The IPL is harvest time for ex-cricketers. Everyone from Chetan Chauhan to Manoj Prabhakar becomes an expert on the day’s proceedings. Only in the IPL can Mark Boucher be on the commentary box one day and then a week later, be playing for one of the teams. There wasn’t much to talk about the commentary. Ravi Shastri and Sunil Gavaskar were at it again.

For seasoned viewers of the league, it has become like a game where you guess what they are going to say next. The World Cup victory has brought a halo on them and Sunil Gavaskar seems generally pleased with the world, and has not taken potshots at any Australian cricketer this time.

Studio and Extra Innings: This is something no IPL viewer will ever be able to evade. For a month and a half, he watches Navjot Singh Sidhu. Yes, Navjot Singh Sidhu is still a part of the expert panel. After reports of him having told a fellow commentator “Oye guru, don’t f*ck with me”, Mr. Sidhu is now part of the pre and post match analysis sessions.

Indiaas a nation has learnt to live with Navjot Singh Sidhu. So it is actually fun to watch him draw wonderful similies from thin air, a true artist of the absurd. The cheerleaders are so unexciting, not even the Shiv Sena guys bothered to file a PIL this year.

As a final touch of IPL subtlety, this year Harsha Bhogle and Sunil Gavaskar were wearing kurtas. And just so that you wouldn’t mistake them to be commenting for an ICL match, they had the IPL logo embroidered on their collars and neck.

With two new teams, the IPL has a lot of questions to ask itself. While there will always be speculation about retaining the interest of the viewer, I have a different take on the issue. I watch the IPL for a different reason. IPL isIndia’s show of strength to the cricketing world.

It is the time of the year when the BCCI can jack off its ego in front of the entire cricketing world. The IPL is also the time when every big cricketer in the world is willing to hang up his boots and come to play for a Mukesh Ambani. When South African fast bowler Wayne Parnell says Ashish Nehra is his role model. What greater revenge can India take on Symonds, than to make him share the dressing room with Bhajji for more than a month? Smile and bear it, buddies. But we have the money, and after years of sledging, and abusing, and using mental disintegration techniques, you now play for us. After retiring from your own teams.

Well, I know this is a little pompous thinking. I dont own the Mumbai Indians, but at least there is a deep sense of satisfaction, when I see all these guys – Ponting, Gilchrist, Symonds, and McGrath going ‘under the hammer’, quite literally. And see them appear in tacky advertisements for the money. I hope some Indian company signs Ponting for an ad where he gets kissed by Rakhi Sawant, just for the kick of it.

So it was fun while it lasted. See you guys again next year, slogging your asses off so that Subrata Sahara Roy or Mukesh Ambani can earn some money.

Now, lets get back to reruns of Dharam Veer and No Entry on Sony Max.

The Worst ads in this World Cup

Every World Cup comes with its own set of advertisements. The ads, and the jingles remain in your memory long after the World Cup has gone. Like the ‘Hoodibaba‘ and ‘Karlo duniya mutthi mein‘ ads in 2003 and the ‘Nothing Official About It’ ads in 1996, all of them remain etched in the memory for a long, long time.

This World Cup however, has to be the one with the worst ads ever. None of them make you see them again, and all of them seem to be setting really low standards in creativity, and then digging further.

Lets begin with the ones that seemed ok. Vodafone did live up to the hype created for the 3G ads, and the ads peaked at the right time. Just while I thought the Zoozoo ads were getting a bit laborious, the Zoozoo ad showed everyone who’s boss. The Change the Game series seemed ok if you could stretch your imagination a bit, and did not ask some vital questions. What, for example, was Dilshan doing, trying a saree in the first place?

I wish they had one for Shanthakumaran Psychopanth. They should call it ‘Pull Shot’. In this, the captain is behind the stumps and has a gun. When he sees Psychopanth abuse the batsman, he ‘pulls’ the trigger and the bowler is shot. Ho gaya ‘Pull Shot’.

But anyway, that is wishful thinking. Coming back to the ads, all of them seemed to be following the trend. For eg, all toothpaste companies still had the white coat man endorsing them. The lemon cola drinks had a close up, slo-mo shot of a face getting drenched with water, Rocky style. All the ads for TVs seemed to show that the picture is so realistic, that you will believe its all real.

But among this clutter, there are a few who have truly managed to catch the eye. So, here’s the countdown to the 5 worst ads of the World Cup. Thank God India won the World Cup, otherwise some Creative Director was going to be shot in the parking lot.

So without much ado, here are the five worst ads of the World Cup.

5: Krishidhan

This is a seed company, and in an act of terrific copywriting, came up with the tagline of ‘Beejon ka Tendulkar’. Sad news is, you cannot use the name of a cricketer who is already endorsing other products in the World Cup without paying him. But I am sure even Sachin let the company go scot-free after seeing the ads.

The Krishidhan ads seem like the serials in the afternoon slots in Regional Transmission in Doordarshan. There is a man, who is talking to a young man over the internet. The young man, whose hands are suspiciously under the table, is surprised to see his father on the internet and says, “Papa, aap yahaan?”

In the meanwhile, to show that the guy is in America, there are two American flags diagonally facing each other, on the guy’s desk. Then, his father explains to him how his life took a U-turn once they started using Krishidhan.

In a truly Swades moment, the son takes his hands out from under the table, and says, “Main wapas aa raha hoon, papa.”

4. Hyundai – New Thinking, New Possibilities

There is Shaan, ex-popular singer and annoying host of countless talent shows, sitting in a recording studio. He is given the mike, and he croons, “New Thinking. New Possibilities.”

Right then, we are shown a number of cars, that are forming the words ‘New Thinking. New Possibilities’ on the road.

Exactly. WTF??

3. Parryware – What a bathroom!

Though this ad should feature in the Hall of Fame of bad ads, it manages to stay third because of some truly inspiring stuff that is coming later.

This ad, reiterates the fact that India Inc. is yet to get out of the recession. A total of 15K must have been used for this ad.

An umpire is standing in a match. The crowds behind him, the cheering, the grounds, all fake. The bowler, of who we can only see the left hand, raises his hand and appeals to the umpire. The umpire raises his hand, looks at the camera with a ‘I did it in my pants before reaching the toilets’ look on his face, and raises his pinky.

The next shot, we are shown pictures of a bathroom, along with a voiceover saying, “Parryware. What a bathroom!”.

2: Suzuki Slingshot

This ad has the feel of a detergent commercial. It has all the features of an Indian ad – cute children, clean shaven fair man, hot girl, and annoying Sardar who begins every line with the word “Oye?”.

So this man is getting ready to go to work, and a kid throws him the keys, saying, “Bhaiyya, yeh lo aapka ‘O! Suzuki Slingshot’. The man wonders, “O! Suzuki Slingshot??”

In the next shot, he is shown kicking ass on the road, and wherever he goes, people say, “Oh! Suzuki Slingshot”. To add to the horror, there is a ‘Slingshot, slingshot’ track running in the background, sounding suspiciously like a Nirma ad.

At the end of the day, he gets the girl, and that kid comes back and gives him an “I told you so” look, and everything is right with the universe.

Except that the ad truly sucks.

1. Idea – Keep Cricket Clean

For a company whose tagline is ‘What an idea, sirjee!’, Idea comes up with the most disastrous ideas. Each of their ads, is pushing each other, fighting to break new barriers of stupidity.

At any given point of time, (even if you are watching Sahara Firangi), the worst ads are by Idea. After dishing out crap for two years, how does ‘Idea’ prepare for the WC? By making the baap of shitty ads.

The ads raise a few pertinent questions. Firstly, who is that woman who has the numbers of Clive Lloyd, Allan Border, Imran Khan, Kapil Dev and Ranatunga? Isn’t that unethical in the first place?

And what is Steve Waugh doing there, talking about keeping cricket clean? Where was he when his brother was talking to bookmakers? It so happened that somewhere in 1994, bookies asked Mark for information about the team and pitch.

“No Idea”, said Mark.

“Well, get idea”, said the bookies.

The ad makes you thankful in a way that India had never won the WC. Imagine Azharuddin talking about keeping cricket clean. If he told a journalist to ‘get idea’, trust me, he’d get ideas.

Not only does the girl seem extensively ignorant of an iota of common sense (“Sir, what to do when someone asks to throw away a match?”). What was she expecting? A tutorial video by Mohammad Asif??

The ad makes you cringe everytime you see it, and is another feather in the crap of Idea.

Like I said, thank god India won the World Cup!!

The DLF-DALDA INDIAN PREMIER LEAGUE

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the DLF-DALDA Indian Premier League.

The Indian Premier League, which shot off like a meteor, is back with its fourth season, and we are all aware of the value of the league. Last year, the total worth of the IPL was valued at 4.13 billion, apart from being the only sporting tournament to be broadcast live on youtube.

This year, the organisers of Indian Premier League have gone all guns blazing, and are riding on the cricket frenzy that has been whipped up by the victory at the World Cup. We spoke to an official of the IPL, who wished to be only called M, and he confirms this, on conditions of anonymity.

HR: Mr. M, congratulations on the fourth edition of the Indian Premier League. Is it true that this edition is going to be bigger than the last?

M: Yes, yes. Of course. There were speculations of the value having dipped, but India won the World Cup, and now India will watch cricket for another 45 days. No problem.

HR: Tell us about the change in the title sponsorship.

M: Well, nothing much to say there. DLF has always been our title sponsors. This year, we have added ‘Dalda’ also as the title sponsors, hence the change in the name of the tournament.

HR: Won’t that affect the ad-revenue equations?

M: No, of course not. We at IPL have always been known for the subtlety in advertising. This year too,  we are trying to maintain that subtlety.

HR: Could you explain how?

M: Well, I am not allowed to disclose all the details, but I’ll give you an example just to illustrate my point. For eg. when Royal Challengers Bangalore are bowling, we shall use the local Bangalore lingo of ‘da’ very innocuously. So, we’ll have the keeper say, “Waisa hi ball daal, da”

HR: So…?

M: daal, da. Dalda. Ring a bell?

HR: Yes, sir. Very subtle.

M: Thank you. There have been other innovations too, in this year’s format. For eg, we have sold the fielding positions to corporates too. So this year, you will have a man fielding at ‘Veet Fine Leg’. Then, there is also ‘Kohinoor Extra Cover’.

HR: Last year, there was a lot of ruckus about terms like ‘DFL Super Sixes’ and ‘Karbon Kamaal Catch’. Do we have any of those this year too?

M: Yes, apart from the DLF Super Six, the Citi Moment of Success, and the Karbon Kamaal Catch, this time we have the Moods ‘My Man’ of the Match. That is sure to bring in a lot of excitement to the game.

HR: I am sure, sir. There have also been reports that an irate fan had shot down the MRF Blimp. Is it true?

M: Rubbish. The MRF Blimp is very much there. We are yet to take a call on whether it is going to be used.

HR: There have been reports that you have gone underground and will gradually vanish from the scene. Is there any truth in that?

M: Rubbish! I am just spending some time with myself, away from the limelight. I am doing a lot of reading.

HR: Like?

M: Ahem, there’s this amazing book called ‘Twenty thousand leagues under the sea….”

If you don’t have balls, bite one: Shahid Afridi

Shahid Afridi, the captain of the Pakistan cricket team, spoke to Hasan Raza about being the captain of the Pakistan team, his life, the vagaries of being in the Pakistan team, and all the questions you have ever had about why the Pakistan team behaves in the way it does.

HR: Firstly, Mr. Afridi, congratulations on taking your team to the Semi Finals. It has been a remarkable achievement for you. A lot of people are wondering if the last decade of Pakistan cricket could be called the “Age of Shahid Afridi”.

SA: The age of Shahid Afridi is 31. You can check Cricinfo for that.

HR: Never mind, sir. Moving on to the next, burning question. You recently commented that Indians do not have large hearts like Muslims and Pakistanis. What exactly do you mean?

SA: (laughs) Oh! It has all been quoted out of context.

HR: How?

SA: See, I was just giving an example. Now take two cricketers, for example. Say, you take Shoaib Akhtar and Laxman Sivaramakrishnan. Who do you think has the bigger heart?

HR: Akhtar??

SA: Exactly! See what I meant? It has all been quoted out of context.

HR: Ahem, yes. But Aamir Sohail termed your comments immature.

SA: Aamir Sohail hai kaun? Usko cricket ka ‘k’ nahi aata hai.

HR: ‘C’, sir.

SA: No, you see what I am telling you….

HR: Never mind. I can see where you’re coming from. Anyway, moving on, another question that always perturbs cricket followers is the behaviour of Pakistani cricketers. Why are they always in the news for the wrong reasons?

SA: (smiles) See, Pakistani cricketers are very passionate people. We believe that whatever you are doing, no matter how highly or lowly the activity, has to be done with passion. Unfortunately, the media misinterprets it as misbehaviour. Look at Salman Butt, his passion made him remind Asif that the next ball had to be a no-ball. And then, look at that no-ball from Asif.

Normally, a fast bowler would just gingerly step across the line. Asif put his entire foot out. That’s what I call playing your heart out. Look at Shoaib Malik, his passion has led to him being happily married today. Look at Shoaib Akhtar, when he felt the passion, he took out his bat and started hitting Asif, he didn’t even care if the media was there. Unfortunately, the Indian media and people do not have large hearts that Allah…

HR: Yes, sir. We know that story. What do you have to say about the issue of no cricket being played in Pakistan for more than two years now?

SA: Ah! Good you pointed it out. That’s another area where we suffer on account of being large-hearted. What do other countries do when foreign teams come visiting? They only show them the good parts of their country. We believe in giving the tourists the true experience of living in the country.

So when Australia toured, our captain Saleem Malik offered them to underplay. When Sri Lanka toured, they got shot at by terrorists. Now, while these might seem like acts of terror, that is what happens in Pakistan everyday. It is just part of the tour. But nobody understands that. It’s all a part of the Western conspiracy to put us down.

HR: I’m sure the world will view your country in new light after this. Moving on, there have been speculations about you announcing your retirement after the semi final loss to India. Is there any truth in it?

SA: No, I intend to play cricket for Pakistan as long as I can. However, I need some time off. So I might just retire from cricket for a few months and then come back again.

HR: That is another question, sir. Why is it that Pakistani cricketers announce their retirements so many times?

SA: See, like I was saying. Pakistan is a nation of passionate people. When they are in the team, they give their 100%. When they are not in the team, they do not wish to interfere in the selection process by being available for selection. Look at any top Pakistani cricketer, they have all gone through this. Javed Miandad retired and came back, and then retired again. Waqar Younis, Wasim Akram, all came back from retirements. Mohammad Yousuf retired recently, and twice earlier when his name was Yousuf Youhana. Hell! He has even retired from the ICL. How much proof do you want?

HR: I see your point, sir. Coming back to you. You have been in the spotlight earlier, and not for the right reasons. Would you still call it the media’s fault?

SA: When was that?

HR: There was once when you were caught trying to change the nature of the pitch in between a test match.

SA: Oh, that. That was just a religious prayer. Have you ever seen Sufi performers? I was just doing that. Is it wrong to pray on the pitch? It is just that the western world, and the media are so biased against us that they keep planting stories in the media.

HR: I get your point, sir. Is there anything else you wish to add?

SA: Ahem, well, you could just publish another interview denying everything the day after, I guess.

HR: Thank you, sir. It has been a real pleasure. Any last words for upcoming cricketers of Pakistan?

SA: Yes. You need passion to play cricket for Pakistan. You need a lot of balls too. If you don’t have balls, bite one.

Champions!!

I grew up with stories of the World Cup. I have read magazines, watched reruns on Ten Sports, listened to Madan Lal speak for one hour, but I have never been able to fully grasp what it feels like when India wins the World Cup.

In 2003, it was different. I was doing my first job in a travel agency and PCO booth. There was a small black and white television that someone from the basti behind the agency would willingly donate to us. There would be 20 people huddled up there. Rickshaw pullers, guys who would disconnect calls on their mobile phones to make a call from the PCO, little children who seemed to have vowed not to bathe till India won the finals, and Shankia aka Shankar Ganjadiya.

Shankia lived in the basti behind us. He was always doped. During day, noon and night, he could be found crushing herbs in his hand, and stuffing them in his chillum, and blowing gyaan on people’s faces. He did nothing all day, but he had 5-6 pani puri carts that some kids ran for him, and so he was among the wealthier people in the basti. He would sit and the door, blow away smoke in the air and predict who would win the match. He was no Paul the Octopus, but his predictions (which were flexible and changed according to the situation of the match) made the experience of watching the match even more fun. He would look into the screen, close his eyes (like a warrior in Mahabharat), and then say, “Chauka jiba” (It’ll be a four).

On the day of the final, Shankia did not come to watch the match. I assume he had had a fight with someone and so he was pissed. When I went to his hut to call him to watch the match, he replied,

“Banda match dekhiba, maghiya. Jao ethu!”, which roughly translates to

“(random body part) match you’ll watch, mo-fos! Get out of here”

The mood in the final was somber right from the beginning. Ganguly won the toss and chose to field, and Zaheer Khan chose to sledge at Gilchrist. Both these decisions led to a score of 359 and Indian buckled under pressure. We used to sell cool drinks in the shop, and I remember opening a bottle of Pepsi and gulping it down like a 90s hero when he sees the heroine dance with the villain, whenever a wicket fell. The match was over in 40 overs, the next day was a Monday and I had to go back to school to learn Business Studies and Accountancy. It was tragic.

This time though, there was a difference.

Now, after two days, it has finally sunk in. Till Monday, I was expecting some London newspaper to break the news that the Pakistan match was fixed. Thankfully, the Interior Minister has some clout there.

This time, everyone was ready for the moment. Cameras were brought out when there were 30 runs remaining and poor Facebook was flooded with oily faces shouting out in joy. The screaming in joy, hugging, dancing on the streets and running away when the PCR van arrives have been done with. Now when I sit and write this do I realise that the feeling has truly sunk in. We are the Champions of the World.

So if I ever have a son, before driving him out of the house after his matriculation exams, I’ll have something to tell him. I shall tell him that I lived in the times of a certain Sachin Tendulkar, who had every feather in his cap except this one. Of how he was carried on the shoulders of Yusuf Pathan, which was surprising because the burden of the middle order batting never seemed to fit on them. Of how there was a particular captain who turned everything he touched into gold. How two fast bowlers called Nehra and Shreesanth took turns to become the most hated persons of the country. Of how Sehwag got out for a duck and a million dreams were crushed. Of Gambhir and the innings of his life. I’ll also talk about Yuvraj and Zaheer and throw in a little bit of gyaan about consistency and persistence.

I’ll also tell him that I was a total stud back then and I had six hot chicks writhing next to me when Dhoni hit the last shot, and I told them to get away from me as I ran out to the roads to celebrate. I know he wont believe the last bit, but what the heck!

We are the World Champions. I can say whatever I want !!

We won!!

An India – Pakistan encounter is not a cricket match. Those who believe it is, also believe that the earth is flat and that the Nazar Suraksha Kavach does work. Its a bloody war, baby.

I have memories of India-Pakistan encounters in the WC since childhood. In 1999, when Venkatesh Prasad, who still looked pissed about the Aamir Sohail incident, took a five for and knocked Pakistan out of the cup. Then the 2003 version where Sachin showed Virender Sehwag the Upar Cut, a shot that would be raped of all its glory in a lousy advertisement. Its true that they did beat us once in a while in between, but a Singer Cup is not the World Cup.

Like all the earlier matches, this one had its hype too, but nothing beats Rehman Malik’s immense show of confidence in his countrymen. Afridi’s bravado before the match about Sachin’s hundred was taken with a pinch of desh ka namak. Sachin does not need to be told when to score his 100th century.

By the time I reached the room, I was told India had won the toss and decided to bat. When I opened the door, the first thing I saw was Umar Gul’s expression, and I knew something was wrong. If Umar Gul wasn’t a cricketer, he would have been a street-theater performer. He comes up with the weirdest expression, and the ones he gives when he takes a wicket are about as pleasant as watching Bheeshm Pitamah running around in a park, serenading a heroine.

Umar Gul had just given away four boundaries, and bowled a no-ball, and the umpire was circling his hand above his head, signalling a Free Hit. The crowd was going crazy, the guys in the opposite building sounded as if something had caught fire. But the euphoria was short lived. Sehwag would perish, but not before he had created a platform that India could build a formidable score. But there was Sachin at the other end.

I know people will say this wasn’t his best innings, that he was like a cat that had six lives, and that he relied more on luck than anything else. True. But he did one thing that no one talks about. He saw off Afridi, the leading wicket taker of the tournament, and easily their best bowler so far. Yes, there were chances grassed, but there were also assertive shots that ensured Afridi did not begin yet another collapse.

Yuvraj Singh, in his defence got the ball of the match first up. An evil, swinging yorker that struck the base of the middle stump like a guided missile. Harbhajan again batted like he was batting for the State Bank of India team, and Ashish Nehra looked as comfortable with the bat as Kamaal R. Khan with an Academy Award.

Raina, who should be spending a considerable amount of his match pay buying lottery tickets considering the luck he has had in both the matches, yet again made sure he stood up and got counted. 260 seemed like the tricky score that you don’t know whether to chase in haste or with care, and you could trust the maturity of Pakistani batsmen to do the rest.

While they began, it looked like one of those days again. I was reminded of how India lost a bunch of matches in the 90s. Sanath Jaysurya would whack Prasad and Srinath to different parts of the ground and the match was over before you knew it. Zaheer Khan seemed to be going for runs, the gaps between the field seemed generational, and nothing seemed to be going India’s way.

But the fielding was surprisingly tight and it was just a matter of one wicket. One wicket, and one knew the others would come tumbling after. Mahendra Singh Dhoni had the expression of Arjun Rampal – expressionless – throughout the match, and it was his composure that gave us some confidence.

But before everything else, I would like to spend some time talking about India’s favourite cricketer the other side of the border – Misbah ul Haq. He has always been a mystery. He is not your average uneducated, uncouth, sledging Pak cricketer. He is always calm, smiling, and confident of his abilities. He is not flamboyant and more than willing to play Sahadeva to his other more flashy teammates.

But come a match with India and Misbah is the most charitable person in the world. He became a household name a few years back for attempting a Dilscoop with five runs remaining. But today, there would be no such madness. What he gave today was a lesson in match-fixing – playing innocuously slow in the middle overs, and then hit a few shots in the end when it didn’t matter to salvage some reputation. Not like those dumb fast bowlers who screwed it up in England last year.

I really do not know what he was thinking, and I seriously have no complaints. Misbah is living proof that history repeats itself, and how! By the 42nd over, I did not consider Misbah a threat. Afridi did play a few dangerous looking shots, but Harbhajan, who has been more consistent than him with the bat, gave him one full toss and he holed out with David Dhawan like predictability.

After that, the match was pretty much in the bag, it was just a matter of when. If Pakistan look back and see the highlights, they’ll realise how close they had come to winning the match, but till another four years, that’s all they can do.

After the match, I was relieved. So that I did not have to see another pelvic-darshan celebration from Afridi. So that Bal Thackeray would not give us another of his assertions of relevance. So that the record against Pakistan remains intact. We have played you five times. And no matter what the pitch, situation, or state of the team, we have beaten your asses hollow. So there!

You can win all the matches you want in between. We shall resume this discussion after another four years.

The Curse of being an Indian Fast Bowler

For every child in India, the ultimate dream was to grow up to be Sachin Tendulkar or Sunil Gavaskar. Have you ever heard a kid saying that he wants to be Venkatesh Prasad??

India is a country that loves its batsmen. They get the ads, the fans, the money. Spinners do hog the limelight once in a while, but it is after years of toil, or if they take all the wickets of a friendly neighbour nation. Fast bowlers, meanwhile, have no such luck.

It is more to do with the upbringing. In ‘mundu’ cricket (as we called galli cricket), the emphasis is always with the batsman. The kid who brings the bat to play, dictates the terms of the game, and is batsman cum third umpire, judging himself not out at regular intervals. Bowling was not cool. Batting was.

The lack of green pastures in cricket grounds is another reason for aspiring bowlers to look for greener pastures, like batting or wicket-keeping. And the same attitude is carried on when we grow up and only watch cricket. Batsmen are hailed as gods and bowlers are lesser gods, like Kubera or the Ashwini twins.

It was worse in the 90s, when Indian batting revolved around, began from, and merged with Sachin Tendulkar. A typical day in the office for the bowler would involve Sachin batting, with the remaining batsmen making short trips to the pitch. Which would be followed by the bowlers getting on to the dry, flat, dust-bowl of a pitch, bowling at a steady 125 kph, and getting whacked by the batsmen.

Indian fast bowlers, you see, are not the normal breed of fire-breathing kind who stop every few overs and remind the batsmen of his lineage. Indian fast bowlers put the ‘gentle’ in the Gentleman’s game. Their bowling, is selfless, harmless, very giving. This trait can be seen even today with Sreesanth for example. He bowls a few tight overs, and then, his heart goes out to the batsmen, and lo and behold! there is a nice, expensive little over so the batsmen doesn’t get depressed.

Another thing about Indian fast bowlers is their build. They are not huge and intimidating like West Indian quickies. They are gentle, 9 to 5 kinda blokes. India never had fast bowlers like Jeff Thomson or Curtly Ambrose. We did have Nilesh Kulkarni at 6’4, but he bowled a gentle slow left arm spin. They are not aggressive, do not sledge, do not give emphatic statements, and hence do not make for good news copy or ad material.

The first person who comes to mind when one talks of Indian fast bowlers is Javagal Srinath. Now, Venkatesh Prasad at least had his Prasad moment when he showed Aamir Sohail the index finger. Srinath did not have even that.

For eleven years, the man went about bowling on dusty tracks, in one-sided matches, and in lost causes without so much as an angry retort at a batsmen. I have never seen him sledge a batsman. In fact, in one instance, he hit a Sri Lankan batsman on the helmet, gave out a loud gasp of pain, and ran to the batsman to check if he was ok.

More the industrious than the flamboyant, Javagal Srinath epitomised India’s fast bowling in the last decade. Together with Venkatesh Prasad, he carried on his shoulders the rickety cart of fast bowling. While his counterparts would run up to the batsman and give him pieces of their mind, Srinath would quietly walk back to the bowling mark, drenched in sweat.

Through thick and thin, summer and winter, this one man just ran to his mark, and bowled a teasing line to batsmen, who were always given a sample of Indian hospitality everytime he bowled. He was the true gentleman, who once famously said, “I’m the fastest vegetarian bowler in the world”. Srinath grudgingly became a non-vegetarian when everyone blamed his diet for his pace. But they didn’t know that it was something within him.

Today, as India struggles to find a bowler to partner Zaheer Khan, one wishes we had that mustachioed man with the drooping shoulders run in and bowl a tight over outside off stump. Sadly, he never got his due.

As a tribute to the two guys, here are two ads. One of Srinath, and one of Prasad. If only we had them today!

The 2011 World Cup : An early review

May be it’s because I have grown up, but I somehow do not find this World Cup as exciting as the earlier ones.

There is no mass hysteria this time. There are no bulk offers promising a TV, fridge, and washing machine for the price of a computer. Cricketers are not splashed all over the roads, peddling everything from hair oil to engine oil. And Coke and Pepsi have not slashed their prices.

Cricket World Cups were the culmination of four years of discussion, debates, dreams and fantasies. We used to tear off the full-page matches schedule and stick it on our cupboards and disappointingly tick off one match after the other. This World Cup seems to have arrived without much fanfare surrounding it, even though it is being held in India.

More than the lack of hysteria, there are a lot of other things in this World Cup that do not have my approval. Like the Opening Ceremony in Dhaka. I know they are an upcoming nation and need all the backing that they can get, but hosting the Opening Ceremony there is taking a bit too much. And the aerial cricket show seemed like an episode of ‘Entertainment ke liye kuchh bhi karega’. I was almost waiting for Anu Malik to break into another of his mind-numbing shayaris after the thing was completed. There were the same old dance performances and songs. I never understand, when there is talk of Indian culture, why are there always dance performances? We only dance when we are drunk, when no one is watching in the bathroom, or when our friend is getting married. Why do all the representations of India’s culture have to have dance performances??

And the Pre-match show is another disappointing part of the World Cup. Before the first match, there was a good intro by Harsha Bhogle about his experiences in the WCs. Then, the camera panned to the right, and my heart sank. Sitting to the left of Bhogle, was that man. That dreaded, feared man who can make the most interesting cricket match as enjoyable experience as smooching Baba Ramdev. Navjot Singh Sidhu is a threat to the nation’s sanity and needs to be removed from that panel in public interest. Poor Ganguly, if he is made to sit next to Sidhu everyday for the entire WC, he will retire from Knight Riders, sell his 22 cars, write an apology letter to Greg Chappel and retire to the Himalayas to lead an ascetic life.

But on the flip side, there is no Arun Lal in the commentary panel, which makes life a little better.

The advertisements in this World Cup are also dumb. All World Cups have had advertisements that have been part of the memories of the World Cup. Like the ‘Nothing Official About it’ ads in 96, the ‘Pad up Sachin, you’re on’ in 99, and the ‘Thanda Matlab Coca Cola’ ads of 2003. But the ads of this World Cup are sad, to say the least. All the TV ads show the person in the TV jumping out into the room, the insurance guys are still hell-bent on scaring you into buying a policy, and the Pepsi ads with the cricketers donning body paints on their bodies with a tight expression on their faces is too much to look at.

So with so many things to crib about this World Cup, let’s hope the cricket is at least, worth it.

An open letter to the Indian Premier League

From someone who has been tracking the ups and downs of the IPL over the last few years, here is a kind letter to the Who’s who and WTF’s WTF at IPL.

Mr. Lalit Modi: Please ask the guys on TV to stop referring to you as the Primo/Supremo/Numero Uno/One and Only and other such adjectives. Not only does it stink of sycophancy, it makes our ears bleed. The IPL is a great concept and now I am sure inhabitants of other galaxies will be aware that it is your brainchild. Now please stop appearing on every match. Relegate yourself to the background now. You do not add to the glamour quotients. And yes, your ties, do something about them

Preity Zinta: Lets face it. Your team sucks. There is not one single player in your team whom we feel like rooting for. Each one of them seems to be on their own trip. The only reason I watch your matches these days is to see you. Please do not wear a Salwar Kameez with the Kings XI Punjab insignia on it again. Ever. I am sure Kirron Kher would look real hot in it. Not you.

Ravi Shastri and Sunil Gavaskar: Admitted, you guys are the only two Indian ex-cricketers who make sense behind the mike. But after ten years, it has become repetitive. I can predict in advance every line you are going to say. Please reinvent yourselves. It’s crunch time now. It’s do or die (Please stop saying lines like that anymore)

Angad/Anshuman/Gourav/Samir: Agreed, Mandira Bedi knew as much about cricket as you guys. But she wore noodle-strap blouses. Till the day you guys start growing female body parts please try to consume as little screen time as possible. Talk lesser, save energy. Listen to what Arun Lal has to say. Laughing is good for health!!

Other Commentators: What on earth is a Citi Moment of Success? Or a Karbonn Kamaal Catch? What happened to that thing called originality? And please stop mentioning that MRF Blimp and Dennis Lillee’s contribution to Indian Cricket. His greatest contribution was when he tried to kick Javed Miandad. But that’s it. For heavens’ sake. The Blimp is just a huge, idiotic balloon shaped like an aeroplane , something you would expect Mr. Mallya to gift his grandchildren. It’s not all that cool.

Mr. Navjot Singh Sidhu: Shut the f*ck up!

Sardarji and his son

Is watching a match in the stadium really an experience better than watching it at home on television?

We had gone to watch the match against Sri Lanka that was played in Cuttack. We took our seats in the stands by 12.00 and the match was set to begin around 2.00 PM.

The waiting for the match can be quite frustrating, and people were kind of getting restless, waiting for the match to start. We guys had taken chart paper and sketch pens and were ready with our placards (“Dhoni, We miss you”, “Sorry, boss. I have fever”, “Plant Trees”).

A Sardar and his son were in the row in front of us. The son was young, must be 10 years old, around class 4. Around the age when you collect posters and cards, with nothing much more on your mind. They were one of the first persons to arrive and you could see that he was really interested in cricket.

The thing is, the day your luck is fucked, it is fucked. You can’t do much about it.

When the match was about to begin, some policemen came and started making people settle down. There was this couple of guys. One of them was dark and bulky, and looked like the Before of a “Before After’ in a Zambian weight-loss infomercial. The other guy was lanky. These guys had been standing for quite sometime and finally the policeman found an empty chair. The one in front of Sardarji’s son. But there is only one chair? No problemo!

The hefty guy, a veritable Duryodhan, offered his friend to sit on his lap. And After readily obliged.

And just like that, the poor boy’s vision was completely blocked. For the entire match! But ‘Before After’ hardly noticed. When one thigh ached, Before would make After stand up briefly, and then sit in on his other thigh. The poor boy wore a smug the entire match.

As it is, Oriya people are rather interesting. You will never find us sitting idle, ideating, thinking of world peace, that kind of crap. There is always something or the other going on in our minds.

To add to Sardarji & Son’s misery, all of a sudden a man hops in front of them, takes out his mobile phone and brings it in front of Sardarji’s face.

We were sitting behind them so we couldn’t see their expressions, but I am sure it must have been one of pure horror. And he takes a picture of Sardarji. He then looked at his phone, put it in his pocket and smiled.

“I have a friend. In Punjab. Vijay Singh. Bilkul aap ke jaisa dikhta hai.” The day your luck is screwed, it is screwed.

Now, gradually the match progressed. India was well on its way to a victory. When India was fielding, you should have seen the crowd’s behaviour. Sachin was fielding in the boundary near us, and the adulation had to be seen to be believed. Every time he so much as turned his head, the entire gallery would stand up and scream out his name. However, there was a Jekyl-Hyde kind of transformation when the Sri Lankan team came to field. Some of them had come up with innovative one-liners and would scream it out. One went,

“Malinga… tujhe ch*denga” (in the tune of the usual “India….India…”). Someone in the galleries above us must have gotten a little bored, so he decided to start throwing things at the people sitting below. It began in the form of paper rockets.

We looked up, pointed at it and laughed. After a while, a banana peel comes flying and landed on the head of one of the persons in the stands. Not funny. He throws it back and with a detailed chronology of the person’s ancestors.

What ensued next can only be called a water pouch/samosa/banana peel/biriyani packet slinging duel between the stands and the galleries. After a while, we saw that the same thing was going on in the other galleries as well.

It looked like a scene from those black and white comedy movies where people start hurling cakes at each other’s faces. Only, it wasn’t funny. By the time the innings reached the 40th over, the people who had come with families had left. The last I saw Sardarji and his son; they were getting up from their chairs. The war ensued till the end of the match and by the time it was over, the entire stand was empty but for a handful of us.

Coming back to the question I asked in the beginning. If a ten year old was asked the same question, he would say it is much better to sit at home, and enjoy the match with smoking hot parathas and tandoori chicken.