WINNING POSITIONS.

or

Win from any position.

A retired boxer told me this story over a beer.

That he could now beer certified retirement.

Previously, when he boxed he could only watch others beer.

Maybe that’s why he retired. But that’s not the story.

This is:

Some dirty dozen years back, a British middleweight boxer was desperate to win.

So desperate that he was prepared to do the unthinkable: he was ready to box a win into his head!

What’s that? How do you, eh, box a win, into your head, sir?

First, sit in a comfortable chair in a dimmed room.

Make sure you are not lying down as that increases the chances of falling asleep, which is not the goal of hypnosis.

Hypnosis did you say?

That’s right, the boxer had himself hypnotized.

He heard strange voices in his head. These strange voices went something like this: “I will have vengeance, I will be victorious”

Come to think of it, they can be monotonous when heard repeatedly, but not for this boxer.

Come boxing day (not December 26th in this case), our boxer was still under the spell.

Once into the fight, he was well out of it. Down for the count, but up again. And that went on and on. Round after round. Down, up. Up, down.

Clearly he was hearing that voice in his head. He was under the winning charm.

And then, out of nowhere, he swung one into his opponent’s head, and that was that.

Hypnosis had worked. He had won. From a highly unlikely position; or as Shane Warne’s Rajasthan Royals, he too believed, “win from all positions”.

It started as a joke when the Rajasthan franchise didn’t even use its allocated funds at the auction. Next, much retired Shane Warne as both captain and coach. Sounds familiar?

In a nation that picks poster-boy batsmen as captains, Anil Kumble was the last resort.

That Kumble could think was not a prerequisite. That Tendulkar wasn’t game, clinched it.

Coming from that history, it takes a lot for India to understand the almost hypnotic stranglehold Warnie has on his wards.

Ok, he can captain, so what? Possibly, Tendulkar being buddies with Warne creates bigger headlines here. Those “nightmares of Sachin’s Sharjah sixes” are Warne’s favourite bytes to the media, and how they lap it up. So, he knows what you want to hear. What else?

He’s a straight shooter –made no qualms about his less than amorous relationship with then Aussie Coach John Buchanan. Or for that matter, with Saurav Ganguly during their recent IPL encounter.

But still he’s a little thin on skipper-lore: Hampshire county captain, a ten odd ODI winning streak in Steve Waugh’s absence, and he becomes the best captain Australia never had?

Does that negate the pre-World Cup drugs fiasco that his mummy prescribed? Or is that non-cricketing too?

In many ways, Warne’s persona is beyond that of a mere cricketer. His stature, deeds, misdeeds, seeds sown, and what he has reaped, are in the realm of rock star royalty. When alleged romantic liaisons extend beyond a record wicket tally, the Rajasthan Royals and Hampshire lads must be in no less in awe of Warne than say, London’s lasses were of the Beatles and the Stones in the 60s (and not in their 60s)

It’s not just that Warne has this coolness about him, but he can still play top draw cricket. He can think, talk and walk that talk. He’s in the zone. But there is no zonal bias – he’s comfy arming around Paki keeper Akmal on the bench, with an aside, a joke, just one of the mates. At the same time, when he sits in the dugout, he’s assertive enough to tell his mates to vacate a seat to have two for you know who!

In a way, there’s a bit of Warne in M.S. Dhoni too. To realise that you’re not just a cricketing nerd, but there’s life beyond cricket. Look what that thinking did for Saurav Ganguly’s career.

Win from all positions – doesn’t matter if it’s Round 2 or 8, whether you’re down for the count or winning on a canter,

And when His Master’s Voice deigns to speak to his flock, are they are mesmerized? Hypnotized?

Do they stand up on their benches like school kids, reciting in unison, “O Captain! My Captain!”

Five wins on the trot, top of the League, does it even matter if they win or lose from here?

Regardless of what happens next, Warne has used his team’s Ninja like invisibility to its advantage.

You never know when, how or who will strike.

But strike they will.

Question is which team has the Samurais to take them on?

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19th Nervous Breakdown.

Go on, abuse Harbhajan Singh.

It’s politically correct.

Call him names. Call him big, bad dirty Hinglish names. Names that would have made Bhajji proud.

Bhajji is no saint. A while back he said Gilchrist was no saint.

Where did that come from? Ok, that was Australia, Sydney, Symonds, monkey, teri ma ki. Is Australia relevant?

From India’s favourite son, beholder of national pride, he is now a human stain. A cricketing untouchable.

And unlike in the Aussie chapter, this time, action was swift. An eleven match IPL ban, and Bhajji’s fifteen minutes of fame were over.

But why did it come to this?

Weren’t the telltale signs always there – in Australia, in the South Africa series, in the dressing room? Of course, what happens in there stays there.

Is Bhajji alone responsible? Was he so potent a power that Sachin Tendulkar, M.S. Dhoni, Lalchand Rajput, Garry Kirsten just let him be.

What about Anil Kumble? What was his take on Bhajji’s theatrics in the last two test series? Or was he neutralised like some of the village elders?

Isn’t Bhajji one of M.S. Dhoni’s ablest lieutenants in both the T20 and one-day games -what was his take all along?

What was our take? What was the media’s take? Did we give a damn, as long as Bhajji was proven not guilty in Australia?

Who else has been undermined in the past? Why did Dravid resign as test captain? Kumble over Bhajji for Dravid; Bhajji over Kumble for Ganguly. Why do we continue to hear talks of favouritism?

And now Bhajji v/s Sreesanth. North v/s South. Welcome to IPL.

And why was Harbhajan Singh made Mumbai Indians’ captain? In the absence of Sachin Tendulkar, did a team called “Indians” demand a provocative Indian player as its first face? While foreign veterans Shaun Pollock and Sanath Jayasuriya were overlooked, Bhajji was at best a popular choice. The selection disregarded his short fuse, flawed people skills, and penchant for pangas.

The same Bhajji who suffers anxiety attacks when he doesn’t strike early. A common refrain when he comes on to bowl: “needs an early wicket”. Or else.

And when that early wicket eludes, watch the shoulders twitch, droop, fall – followed by an uneasy grimace at missfields, another nervous breakdown at a dropped catch. As if the catch dropped was a personal attack on his virility.

Imagine then, what erupts when Sreesanth missfields or drops a catch off Bhajji’s bowling? Lord have mercy.

The irony of Bhajji being his own worst enemy is not lost in this: first, he overestimated his own capabilities and accepted the Mumbai Indians’ captaincy. The first few defeats set the bomb ticking, the last one, ironically against Kings XI Punjab, exploded in his face.

Looking at Bhajji operate, you sense the world is his enemy. Looking at Sreesanth act, you sense he’s the world’s enemy. One perception leads to the other, and finally, the two cricketers persecute themselves, with or without the help of others.

It’s no surprise then that two players, so similar, almost craving for the world’s attention, could not coexist in the same team. And while their craft of pace and spin, is as dissimilar, as North and South, they almost appear to be threatened by the others one-upmanship.

A telling difference between the two, Singh at 27, is a ten year veteran in world cricket, while Sreesanth at 25, made his international debut in 2006.

Yet somehow the two continue to act like squabbling six year olds. “Gimme my bat, that’s my ball…WACK!!”

And if that is the case, reform school cannot be far behind. For, to punish them with match bans and set them lose again will be wrong on both Indian cricket and the two players.

Here’s a rare opportunity for Indian cricket: to make two wrongs right.


Suggested listening:

19th Nervous Breakdown by Rolling Stones
Paper Tiger by Beck

DELHI DAREDEVILS DEMAND YOUR ATTENTION!

Delhi in my belly!

“Next time you buy free tickets, take me also!”

That’s Vasudev, who turned seven in March, and an IPL backer in April.

I had every intention of taking him for Delhi Daredevils’ first game at the Feroz Shah Kotla.

Fact is, I had every intention of taking a lot of people.

One guy backed out because he was watching soccer.

Others were either babysitting their kids or their wife’s guests.

Guess both take a lot of handling, and don’t come naturally to men.

Both cause a lot of men to miss a lot of games.

But not the guy who made it: he didn’t have any kids. He didn’t have any wife’s guests. Heck, he didn’t have any wife. Not yet.

Fits that his company is called Happily Unmarried then?

Anyway, the reason for inviting him was somewhat selfish. The three T20 games we had watched together (2 vs. Pak and 1 vs. Oz in the World Cup), we won. And the solitary T20 thrashing in Australia, we watched in isolation.

I assumed with master Happily Unmarried as company, the Delhi Daredevils would win too. I hadn’t realised that in the Rajasthan Royals, the IPL had the perfect ingredient for a successful tournament: a minnow.

First, everybody will bash the Royal’s up, and then almost Bangladesh like, they will upset all equations by beating the best team (as in the South Africa or chokers of the tournament). Imagine the surprise when Rajasthan Royals beat Kolkata Knight Riders. Where will Shah Rukh Khan and his wonderfully gifted entourage hide?

I looked for a red ‘n’ black tee. Not quite Delhi Daredevil gear; but then, I wasn’t prepared to invest in them as yet.

Of course that changed once I put on my red ’n’ black tee. I had taken the colour- combo oath – the full import of which kicks in when you’re on the ground. With McGrath, Sehwag and Vettori in the same colours.

They are one of you. You are one of them. It feels just fine. Put on a show for me - beat the hell out of royalty. Power to the masses!

But it’s a little more complicated. How do you reason Kaif being knocked over by a firang? Do you still think, a bad T20 club performance can effect his test chances? Or say, if Raina rocks, will he enhance his India chances?

Once the game starts though, you abandon all that muddled thought. You are sucked in by the partisan crowd, hell, you become the partisan crowd. You enjoy, for once, being just a face in the crowd. Being invisible in a metaphorical sea of red ‘n’ black. The red-black sea, eh?

The high point of the game is much delayed. It’s when Delhi’s icon player, Virender Sehwag takes strike – and blasts one straight over mid on. You realise, if you hadn’t before, you’re in Delhi. And Sehwag is Delhi, as Tendulkar is Mumbai, Ganguly is Calcutta, and Laxman is Hyderabad. Never mind about M.S. Dhoni and Shane Warne. They are something too: mercenaries?

Three balls and two more fours later Sehwag is out. Frankly felt like walking out then. But then, you don’t walk out on your team. No matter what.

So, I stuck it out. And though Delhi won handsomely, or rather, Rajasthan lost ugly, it wasn’t a great game to watch.

But then, when you watch 9 out of 10 games, prepare for the odd heartbreak, even when you win.

Later, long after the game, way past midnight, the Rajasthan Royal’s team bus was blocked off by an errant Delhiwallah’s badly parked car. After a bad evening, the Royals were now having a worse night.

Looks like we Delhiwallahs sure like to rub it in.

Less than 20 words.

3 ball high, 1 ball low. Sehwag’s out. Glad it was a free pass.

more than 20 words

Soviets and lefties.

Looks like India won the battle and didn’t lose the war either. When you win the last test in a series it’s an altogether different high - be it to seal or square a series or pick some hand-me-downs from the Aussies in a dead rubber. In dead rubbers, it appears, the Aussies go get a manicure – and choose not to dirty their hands with the efforts of a scorecard inspiring 4-0 win. 2-1 will do, thanks mate.

So while the Aussies pound teams in the virginal days of a series, it’s full time commitment that puts them off. Except when it’s the English they’re deflowering. That’s when even five-nil is an understatement. You have to delve into details. How many innings’ defeats? How many ten-wicket wins? Are the pommies scarred for life? Will they make it for the next Ashes?

And that is what separates two teams in a series, even when they are locked at one all. Like India-South Africa. Who, in Rameez Raja speak, dented the others’ confidence quite badly?

Even though India had the last laugh, what about Ahmedabad? Why did it happen? Does it necessitate a complete breakdown –followed by a rehab visit to get all cleaned up - to bounce back again?

Is team India just a motley crew of gifted cricketers put together– the Soviet Union of cricket. Also consider India’s policy on no-first-use of nukes! Hit us, then we’ll hit back, only harder.

Over to the Bong bombshell Saurav Ganguly, who’s nearly hooked up with the potential of his big box office debut. And though he didn’t chart a century at Kanpur, it set Sauravspeak in motion: his best innings, he says. Or did he mean, “one of”. Not as in “one off”. Either way, Dada was on: a left handed VVS Laxman.

Of the other lefties, Irfan Pathan wasn’t playing, Piyush Chawla got two wickets (and then wasn’t playing) and with Yuvraj Singh, the promoters wangled a 32 run item number.

Who’s left?

Gambhir for Jaffer?

Also don't be surprised if IPL performances decide the odd test slot.

By the way, Suresh Raina bats left handed too.

We’re No. 2.
Do we try harder?

What’s common between the No. 2 car rental company in the 1960s and the No. 2 test cricket team in 2008?

They’re both No. 2. Apart from that, not much.

While Avis, America’s No. 2 car rental company, came to terms with its rank, India, the world’s No. 2 test nation, isn’t quite there yet.

When Avis cracked its brilliant ad campaign in the 60s, it first faced facts: it was No.2, not No.1. And to be No.1, it must first consolidate as No.2.

Meanwhile, after India’s first ever test win at Perth, it was presumed, somewhat prematurely, that India will soon be No.1. This was constantly communicated by the power brokers of Indian cricket. Nowhere was it mentioned how India would be No. 1, it was just assumed. Possibly because when you’re climbing, after No.2 it’s No.1. No negative thoughts of shaky ground that can make No. 2 slide.

Avis made no bones about their No. 2 ranking, and saw a big-time opportunity in it: a cult advertising idea was born: We’re No.2. We try harder.

And try harder they did. It was the little things like, “cleaner ashtrays” and “shorter queues” they harped on about. Stuff that struck a chord. Better still, they stuck to their promises. And that’s how they delivered. They became a stronger, more credible No.2. And even threatened the No. 1 car rental company, Hertz.

Today, while India retains its No. 2 ranking, it plays more like No. 3 or 4 on most days. In the last series in South Africa, form and a 1-0 lead was squandered. Ultimately, India lost that series 2-1. Appears India’s surprise at winning their first ever test there overwhelmed this bunch of underachievers. Against a rudderless Pakistani side, India at home, barely managed a test series win.

Is team India just a motley crew of the most gifted cricketers assembled together– the Soviet Union of cricket?

When Avis started its “we’re No. 2” ad pilgrimage, it ensured every employee across the United States was on the same page. For India, having one team on the same book is a tall order. Then what must it be like to have three teams play under two different captains?

So, what can the Indian test learn from Avis’ “We’re No. 2. We try harder” campaign

1. Accept the truth: you are not close to No. 1 yet
2. To become No. 1, you first have to be a potent No. 2.
3. To be a potent No. 2, you have to be a world-beater –that is, do more things right than wrong – i.e. win more than you lose.
4. Accept graciously that you’re just about No. 2 today – one good session for South Africa on the 3rd day, and they might have been No. 2. And one session is not enough to separate two teams.
5. Is it possible there is not a team worthy of being No. 2? Instead there are two No. 3 teams.
6. The opposition is not within the team, it is the opposing team.
7. Introspect, ask questions. If ad legend, Bill Bernbach had not asked the folks at Avis any questions, there would never have been any answers.
8. Innovate. Do not copy Australia. Just like Avis did not ape Hertz. Find your own way to beat the best.
9. Every little counts. From “clean ashtrays” and “shorter queues” in the Avis way – to better fitness, improved fielding, running between wickets and overall attitude.
10. Respect the customer – i.e. respect the cricket fan, they make you possible.
11. Try harder.

And an aside, not from the Avis school of thought, but from the Indian cricket school:

Respect your seniors. One day you may play as a senior too. Never know what happens, when you try harder. Ask Saurav Ganguly.