It’s not easy being a wallflower.
It’s not easy being Misbah.
It’s not easy being Badri.
It’s not easy waiting when the wait is over.
But it’s still not over.
And it goes on and on and on and on
Over and over and over and over again
And again
Badri has waited. God knows he has.
Everybody knows.
And those that don’t are blind.
Badri: Your time has come.
Seize it with both hands, boy.
Just like that catch today.
Showing posts with label Naked centrefold. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Naked centrefold. Show all posts
August 20, 2008
July 08, 2008
How to rekindle an old flame
You are not Zimbabwe.
You can play.
You are not Pakistan.
Ask them, they will play with you.
You don’t have to watch back to back one day games, broken players, dead wickets, idiot bowlers, foolish fielders, crowdless games.
You can play.
If you don’t have a bat, beg, borrow, steal. Maybe even buy one.
Not the heaviest or the lightest, or the costliest or the cheapest, but a bat with a reason.
Maybe it’s a faux Sachin bat, with the MRF logo, and the Tendulkar scribble signature.
Maybe it’s heavier than bats are supposed to be.
Maybe you’ll play long enough to pick up one of Tendu’s ailments.
Maybe you’ll feel a connect every time you lift the bat, drive straight or snick one to slips.
Even if there are no slips. You know where they stand.
So, what are you waiting for – an IMF funding, buy the bat. Buy them Cosco balls.
Walk out of the store as if you were opening the batting. Expect people to stare, applaud, buy more bats, create a chain reaction.
Run windmills with the bat. Feel the distance between cricket politics and you increase – to an eternity.
Feel, if you want to play, nobody can stop you. You are not Zimbabwe. You are not Pakistan.
All you need is someone to bowl, someone to bowl to. Cars, walls, evening walkers to field. A driveway or a road. The cranky old black gate. Streaking bikes.
You can play anybody. A chauffer who looks like Chanderpaul, a neighbour who looks like Nasser Hussein, a kid who looks like the nephew. Even the niece.
Because, like Zimbabwe, if the folks let them be, everybody just wants to play.
Because, like Pakistan, even if the roads are unsafe, everybody wants to play.
Because there are no lawns left to play. And there are no safe places left to play.
On Earth, or in the neighbourhood.
And go on, sing Cat Stevens aloud, “where do the children play?”
But before you get too caught up in muddled thought, play.
Play it again, Shyam. Play it again, maan. Play it again.
Play till your t shirt is heavier than your bat. Play till the bat grip is sweatier than your t.
Play till you knock something, and you half expect a grown up to yell, like you were a kid.
Play till you forget what cricket has become.
July 07, 2008
Death of a ladies’ man.
“You used to move the mountains, baby
But now you just don’t move me”
It doesn’t take Dr Strangelove to tell you that just like you fall in love, you fall out of love
It takes an instant, a yawn.
A moment of no magic.
A moment of that godforsaken question, “what am I doing here?”
When that happens, do you cancel your subscription to the seven samurais – the seven cricket channels in India?
On the Box this is them:
201 DD Sports, 202 Star Sports, 203 Ten Sports, 204 ESPN, 205 Neo, 207 Zee Sports, 208 Star Cricket.
Sure, there’s 106 Set Max too, but that’s only a fair-weather cricket channel. Otherwise it’s Bollywood.
Well, well, you know how it goes, you don’t cancel subscription. You bide your time.
You follow nearly the same 3 am to 3 am schedule, but with dollops of restraint.
You don’t start your day at 3am. In fact, you never did, because who watches live cricket from New Zealand anyway.
Nor do you see games through to 3 am in the West Indies –if you happen to check in a little late one night, and watch the West Indies win a Twenty20 game, that ends up being an Eleven11 game, that’s a bonus. But a measly one. On most days it’s business as usual – so count your lucky stars if you retired when dark knights Chanderpaul and Bravo were still alive in the 4th one-dayer. Last ball defeats in almost certain wins for the underdogs can be disturbing.
Reinforces the belief that cricket is limping, not only in Zimbabwe and Pakistan and the West Indies, but just about everywhere.
Is that why Australia go on to lose the last game in a dead rubber – so we believe that the West Indies are still a formidable side that can chase down record breaking scores. (what, nowadays no such luck for the Windies)
You don’t watch tests in Pakistan because there aren’t any. But if Pak schemed to play Australia in India how would Aussie smuggle out of that one?
Quick fix to rekindle yer old flame:
1. Sever ties with one day cricket. To treat any withdrawals, administer only last ball finishes, though only in highlights’ packages.
2.Sanctions on tests played between Australia-West Indies, New Zealand-England, India-Pakistan.
3. Boycott cricket boards of all nations
Fine Print:
Exemptions in (1) may be made when Sehwag looks like a double and Mendis all ten. Or when the next Gilchrist surfaces.
“You used to move the mountains, baby
But now you just don’t move me”
It doesn’t take Dr Strangelove to tell you that just like you fall in love, you fall out of love
It takes an instant, a yawn.
A moment of no magic.
A moment of that godforsaken question, “what am I doing here?”
When that happens, do you cancel your subscription to the seven samurais – the seven cricket channels in India?
On the Box this is them:
201 DD Sports, 202 Star Sports, 203 Ten Sports, 204 ESPN, 205 Neo, 207 Zee Sports, 208 Star Cricket.
Sure, there’s 106 Set Max too, but that’s only a fair-weather cricket channel. Otherwise it’s Bollywood.
Well, well, you know how it goes, you don’t cancel subscription. You bide your time.
You follow nearly the same 3 am to 3 am schedule, but with dollops of restraint.
You don’t start your day at 3am. In fact, you never did, because who watches live cricket from New Zealand anyway.
Nor do you see games through to 3 am in the West Indies –if you happen to check in a little late one night, and watch the West Indies win a Twenty20 game, that ends up being an Eleven11 game, that’s a bonus. But a measly one. On most days it’s business as usual – so count your lucky stars if you retired when dark knights Chanderpaul and Bravo were still alive in the 4th one-dayer. Last ball defeats in almost certain wins for the underdogs can be disturbing.
Reinforces the belief that cricket is limping, not only in Zimbabwe and Pakistan and the West Indies, but just about everywhere.
Is that why Australia go on to lose the last game in a dead rubber – so we believe that the West Indies are still a formidable side that can chase down record breaking scores. (what, nowadays no such luck for the Windies)
You don’t watch tests in Pakistan because there aren’t any. But if Pak schemed to play Australia in India how would Aussie smuggle out of that one?
Quick fix to rekindle yer old flame:
1. Sever ties with one day cricket. To treat any withdrawals, administer only last ball finishes, though only in highlights’ packages.
2.Sanctions on tests played between Australia-West Indies, New Zealand-England, India-Pakistan.
3. Boycott cricket boards of all nations
Fine Print:
Exemptions in (1) may be made when Sehwag looks like a double and Mendis all ten. Or when the next Gilchrist surfaces.
April 15, 2008
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.
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.
March 05, 2008
Australian for… what?
An opportunity for the Aussie beer brand, Foster’s to extend its ad campaign, “Australian for beer” in India. Place Ponting’s pint sized face after the Brisbane defeat in their ad. Add the line: Australian for whiner. Sign off with Foster’s, Australian for beer.
Now, Foster’s could go the whole Hogg, and include the only just retired Chinaman bowler but that would be a tad overdone. But Brad Hogg (Australian for forgotten) if anyone, has reason to feel belittled, being excluded in his last international. Including Symonds and Hayden in any such sneer fest is tempting. But they are only the troops. Ponting is the General.
Yet Symonds & Hayden (Australian for assault) continue to be the focus of India’s scorn. Ponting, as if less evocative visually, and smaller in stature, almost Hitleresque sans moustache, camouflages with the collective Aussie antipathy. (Australian for gamesmanship)
Ponting is by no means the arrowhead. He is the archer. Invisible in his greens, on the greens.
And whether it was Symond’s shenanigans or Hayden’s heresy or Brett’s beamer or Clarke’s cuddle, were they mere shots in the dark? And in the dieing days of the Commonwealth Bank Series, if that wasn’t enough, Gillispeak (Australian for honesty) was anointed too.
Did the wives and girlfriends follow? Along with the cherubic children who made it for their Daddy’s retirement –did they point fingers at Harbhajan Singh too? And a witch-hunt, no less ensued. And the fanatic hordes of Sydney, Brisbane, Melbourne, took to hunt down Bhajji. Welcome to Salem, Australia, 2007-08. The trials never ended, even though the series has.
And bring back Muralitharan. And hang him with your words too.
In the meantime, Australia hangs on to every word. That could have been spoken, must have been spoken, will be spoken. As Ricky Archer will admit, a spoken word, and a sped arrow never come back.
Coming back to beating Australia, it’s so seldom, yet so sweet. But beating Ponting’s team was more about defying a nation’s scorn.
In the latter days of the series, it was almost like taking on a bunch of meandering mercenaries - who sensed they were playing on borrowed time. Thinking when that last bullet ball gets them, will it be a LBW or a run-out?
In the second final, it was as if both Symonds & Hayden were tempting fate – Almost a touch of Yeat’s “An Irish Airman forsees his death” in their dismissals. One over of poetry for the Indians by you-know-who Singh, and the ablest two lieutenants went down, somewhat predictably, run-out and LBW. It was over then. As General Ponting said so himself!
But when exactly did General P think it was over? When his IPL bid was upsettingly low? When India took Perth? Or when he let the Sydney test take him?
Does General P even recall where, why and when this Aussie summer started to go awry? And did he feed the flames and flies of Perth? When he’s alone, at home, flicking the lamp switch, on-off-off-on, will he in between see the light?
That he once was the best batsman in the world. That he captained the best team in the world. That not just Australia, but Indians too, not only feared but respected his craft.
Long before it became craftiness (Australian for mental). Disintegration just backfired with interest, mate.
PS: In spite of being twin bros. both Mark Waugh and Steve Waugh were quite unlike each other; they were Australian for Foster (‘s) brothers!
November 01, 2007
Third Man
In spite of his triumphs as player and captain, is Rahul Dravid’s lesser standing among the “Big Three” a reality or perception?
Beware, this is Indian cricket, and there’s no such thing as the right thing. Also, by the same logic, or lack thereof, you do no wrong here. Often enough, two wrongs make a right as do one right and a wrong – in fact, think of all the permutations, and chances are, they will result in a right. What, at times even two rights result in a right. This might appear confusing, but that’s what Indian cricket is – the more you know of it, the less you really know about it. It’s like a highly secretive yet dysfunctional family. You think they are off their rocker, but they put forth such an incomprehensibly serene face that you start to think, maybe it’s just the imagination running wild.
But it’s far from that. Indian cricket is like a Reality Show. In it, black and white coexist, but when shades of grey appear, the signal goes off. Fact is there are no grey areas. Why a certain captain greys prematurely is hastily hushed up – either with hair dye, a death knell or a new scapegoat. Either way, there are no answers, draw your own conclusions, live with your own concussions, gentlemen. Indian cricket is not for the overtly rational.
Which brings us to Rahul Dravid – was he far too rational? Did he captain India in a cocoon, blissfully unaware of the monster called Indian cricket? Or did he take it upon himself to rid Indian cricket of its demons?
It’s obvious that the Rahul Dravid-Greg Chappell combine made more foes than friends. After the World Cup ouster and Chappell’s resignation, Dravid, Tendulkar and Ganguly were in the eye of a storm. There was a deafening demand for change. Supply was met with Tendulkar and Ganguly being rested for the Bangladesh one-day series – giving them a much-needed breather; after which they returned for the test series. While the ODI and test series’ victories did not make up for the World Cup ouster, it gave the three seniors a little more time. Also, resentment had simmered down to indifference.
Next, an unexpected 2-1 one-day series victory over South Africa in Ireland; a famous1-0 test series win and a lackluster 3-4 one-day series defeat, both versus England.
In the ODI series, Tendulkar did exceptionally well, while Ganguly soldiered on manfully. What about Dravid, you may ask? The trouble with Dravid is he tends to go along unnoticed, especially when he scores; for, that is what we expect of him. Also, with a personal P.R. that is low-key at best and non-existent at worst, Rahul Dravid never quite captured India’s imagination like Tendulkar the player or Ganguly the captain. So, when he succeeded it was like he was doing his job. Somewhere down the line, Dravid had not come to grips with the trappings of modern Indian cricket. And this lack would catch up, sooner rather than later.
By now Dravid had also relinquished his coveted No.3 spot to that of a finisher down the order. However, one task would remain unfinished – out of the blue, Dravid resigned as captain from both forms of the game.
The furore caused by Dravid’s resignation was short-lived. Indian cricket attained dizzying heights with the Twenty20 World Cup win. MS Dhoni had arrived yet again, and this time with his band of brothers - with Yuvi, Veeru, Irfan, Uthappa, Gambhir, Rohit Sharma. It was like Indian cricket was up for grabs.
But then came Australia, and India reverted to pretty much the same one-day side pre-T20 World Cup. Another “I told-you-so” horror run, India went down 4-2 in the 7 match series. We were left wondering, what if? If only? Why didn’t the T20 Champs play the one-day games? Why are we back to square one? A little of that post World Cup anger was back again. And it was time for another resting (like in that Bangladesh ODI series).
The bed had been made. Dravid was rested on the grounds of form and fitness for the first two one-dayers versus Pakistan. Chairman of selectors, Dilip Vengsarkar had spoken, somewhat incoherently as usual. His was the last word. Dravid made no comments. At a marathon in Delhi, he was only taking “non-cricket” questions.
Some may argue that’s precisely what this is – non-cricket. But Dravid gave little away, only saying, in true Jammy fashion, “it’s a long season”.
It’s baffling that Dravid did not play in the “Challenger” series – which was to be the so-called selection trials for the India-Pakistan ODI series. But when selections are made even before the finals, you realise it’s all hogwash! Forget India Blues and India Greens, India is in the red now.
To make sense of Indian cricket, try reading between the blurred, zigzag lines. But even then it’s more about unanswered questions.
Like, after his controversial resignation as India coach, why did Greg Chappell return for another appointment? Why did Chappell take on Tendulkar? Was he right in doing so? Why did Dravid stand by Chappell? Why did Saurav Ganguly return? Was it good for Indian cricket? Did Dravid want him to return? Was it Chappell/Dravid vs. the rest of the Indian team? Why did Dravid declare when Tendulkar was closing in on his double hundred? Was he right? Is the Ganguly/Tendulkar–Dravid divide idle media chat? Is resting Dravid part of a rotational policy? If so, then why aren’t the selectors saying so? Question hour can go on till the mind becomes a maze.
Probably better to stay in the present with an Indian team sans Rahul Dravid. What will India be missing? For argument’s sake think South Africa sans Jacques Kallis or Pakistan without Mohammed Yousuf – what do they miss?
Point is, you can bundle all the boundary boys in your team, but they cannot replace the blue-chip quality of a Dravid. These new kids will thrill. They may even make more attractive ad models. But to understand the nuances of cricket (one-dayers and tests), they can do with the disciplined mind of Dravid.
Out of the big three, more so, in the last few years, Dravid has asserted himself as the standout player, hardly missed a game – while both Tendulkar and Ganguly have been indisposed either due to form or fitness, Dravid has gone from strength to strength. If anything, he has looked the fittest, most accomplished of the three – and looked set to out-bat and outlast the other two, until this series of unfortunate incidents.
If the selectors and the BCCI are even remotely committed to Indian cricket, they should strengthen The Wall. Cherish Jammy. But before that, speak and listen to Rahul Dravid. Maybe they too will learn a thing or two about cricket. And it’s definitely not “six and out”. For that is only Brett Lee’s pop group.
All rights reserved. This article cannot be reproduced without prior permission.
Beware, this is Indian cricket, and there’s no such thing as the right thing. Also, by the same logic, or lack thereof, you do no wrong here. Often enough, two wrongs make a right as do one right and a wrong – in fact, think of all the permutations, and chances are, they will result in a right. What, at times even two rights result in a right. This might appear confusing, but that’s what Indian cricket is – the more you know of it, the less you really know about it. It’s like a highly secretive yet dysfunctional family. You think they are off their rocker, but they put forth such an incomprehensibly serene face that you start to think, maybe it’s just the imagination running wild.
But it’s far from that. Indian cricket is like a Reality Show. In it, black and white coexist, but when shades of grey appear, the signal goes off. Fact is there are no grey areas. Why a certain captain greys prematurely is hastily hushed up – either with hair dye, a death knell or a new scapegoat. Either way, there are no answers, draw your own conclusions, live with your own concussions, gentlemen. Indian cricket is not for the overtly rational.
Which brings us to Rahul Dravid – was he far too rational? Did he captain India in a cocoon, blissfully unaware of the monster called Indian cricket? Or did he take it upon himself to rid Indian cricket of its demons?
It’s obvious that the Rahul Dravid-Greg Chappell combine made more foes than friends. After the World Cup ouster and Chappell’s resignation, Dravid, Tendulkar and Ganguly were in the eye of a storm. There was a deafening demand for change. Supply was met with Tendulkar and Ganguly being rested for the Bangladesh one-day series – giving them a much-needed breather; after which they returned for the test series. While the ODI and test series’ victories did not make up for the World Cup ouster, it gave the three seniors a little more time. Also, resentment had simmered down to indifference.
Next, an unexpected 2-1 one-day series victory over South Africa in Ireland; a famous1-0 test series win and a lackluster 3-4 one-day series defeat, both versus England.
In the ODI series, Tendulkar did exceptionally well, while Ganguly soldiered on manfully. What about Dravid, you may ask? The trouble with Dravid is he tends to go along unnoticed, especially when he scores; for, that is what we expect of him. Also, with a personal P.R. that is low-key at best and non-existent at worst, Rahul Dravid never quite captured India’s imagination like Tendulkar the player or Ganguly the captain. So, when he succeeded it was like he was doing his job. Somewhere down the line, Dravid had not come to grips with the trappings of modern Indian cricket. And this lack would catch up, sooner rather than later.
By now Dravid had also relinquished his coveted No.3 spot to that of a finisher down the order. However, one task would remain unfinished – out of the blue, Dravid resigned as captain from both forms of the game.
The furore caused by Dravid’s resignation was short-lived. Indian cricket attained dizzying heights with the Twenty20 World Cup win. MS Dhoni had arrived yet again, and this time with his band of brothers - with Yuvi, Veeru, Irfan, Uthappa, Gambhir, Rohit Sharma. It was like Indian cricket was up for grabs.
But then came Australia, and India reverted to pretty much the same one-day side pre-T20 World Cup. Another “I told-you-so” horror run, India went down 4-2 in the 7 match series. We were left wondering, what if? If only? Why didn’t the T20 Champs play the one-day games? Why are we back to square one? A little of that post World Cup anger was back again. And it was time for another resting (like in that Bangladesh ODI series).
The bed had been made. Dravid was rested on the grounds of form and fitness for the first two one-dayers versus Pakistan. Chairman of selectors, Dilip Vengsarkar had spoken, somewhat incoherently as usual. His was the last word. Dravid made no comments. At a marathon in Delhi, he was only taking “non-cricket” questions.
Some may argue that’s precisely what this is – non-cricket. But Dravid gave little away, only saying, in true Jammy fashion, “it’s a long season”.
It’s baffling that Dravid did not play in the “Challenger” series – which was to be the so-called selection trials for the India-Pakistan ODI series. But when selections are made even before the finals, you realise it’s all hogwash! Forget India Blues and India Greens, India is in the red now.
To make sense of Indian cricket, try reading between the blurred, zigzag lines. But even then it’s more about unanswered questions.
Like, after his controversial resignation as India coach, why did Greg Chappell return for another appointment? Why did Chappell take on Tendulkar? Was he right in doing so? Why did Dravid stand by Chappell? Why did Saurav Ganguly return? Was it good for Indian cricket? Did Dravid want him to return? Was it Chappell/Dravid vs. the rest of the Indian team? Why did Dravid declare when Tendulkar was closing in on his double hundred? Was he right? Is the Ganguly/Tendulkar–Dravid divide idle media chat? Is resting Dravid part of a rotational policy? If so, then why aren’t the selectors saying so? Question hour can go on till the mind becomes a maze.
Probably better to stay in the present with an Indian team sans Rahul Dravid. What will India be missing? For argument’s sake think South Africa sans Jacques Kallis or Pakistan without Mohammed Yousuf – what do they miss?
Point is, you can bundle all the boundary boys in your team, but they cannot replace the blue-chip quality of a Dravid. These new kids will thrill. They may even make more attractive ad models. But to understand the nuances of cricket (one-dayers and tests), they can do with the disciplined mind of Dravid.
Out of the big three, more so, in the last few years, Dravid has asserted himself as the standout player, hardly missed a game – while both Tendulkar and Ganguly have been indisposed either due to form or fitness, Dravid has gone from strength to strength. If anything, he has looked the fittest, most accomplished of the three – and looked set to out-bat and outlast the other two, until this series of unfortunate incidents.
If the selectors and the BCCI are even remotely committed to Indian cricket, they should strengthen The Wall. Cherish Jammy. But before that, speak and listen to Rahul Dravid. Maybe they too will learn a thing or two about cricket. And it’s definitely not “six and out”. For that is only Brett Lee’s pop group.
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August 31, 2007
Whipping Post
Is watching India play akin to self-flagellation?
Crazy, but nowadays your misery isn’t related to the result alone. Regardless of whether India wins or loses, as long as they turn up, watching them is punishing beyond words, especially in one-day cricket.
For a while now, it’s been too easy to sink your canines into Indian cricket. Point is, you don’t have to. Indian cricket is bleeding badly, and there’s no clot in sight.
India has just gone down 3-1 in the ODI series. But that’s not a cardinal sin. Nor will losing the series 4-3, 5-2 or even 6-1. Why not 7-0 is beyond me, but that equation no longer exists.
With Indian cricket today, the result is inconsequential. To be honest, there should only be one result in one-dayers: defeat. That would only quicken any “process” that can emerge from these failures. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a much-scorned phrase - a Greg Chappellism to boot; but “The Process” is pulp in Indian cricket. Worse still, it’s been pulp for ages, and India has been winning in spite of that.
Now, India may still pull off an unlikely 4-3 series win over England. For, often when Indian cricket touches rock bottom, it bounces back unexpectedly. India threatened to do so at Old Trafford after a second spineless defeat. Though they scored a measly 212, they had England reeling at 114 for 7. And then true to type, the two babes of English cricket added nearly 100 for the 8th wicket.
But all this pales in comparison to India in the field. In a familiar parody of earlier games, Indian fielders evaded the cricket ball and vice versa. Look, the ball’s gone through him, past him, over him, under him - basically, the ball was beyond him. And he was beyond any kind of effort. If he tried, it might hurt. And he may break. Professional sport can be so tiring sometimes.
The Indian fielders had maxed out. They had nothing more to give. It was incredible that they were standing, bowling; even the occasional clap of hands would have been a strain.
Had it been a very long English summer? Was the ODI series a thankless load after a hard-fought test series win? Does India need specific players for each form of the game?
Taking a look at team compositions, India’s included six new players for the one-day series ( Powar, Chawla, Agarkar, Gambhir, Yuvraj and Munaf Patel.), and England’s fielded five new players (Flintoff, Broad, Bhopara, Mascharenis and Owais Shah). While the English are electric, some of India’s young bunch looks weary, almost on their last legs.
Interestingly, except for Dravid, Tendulkar and Ganguly, most Indian players are sill in their 20s; and the average age of the Indian and English one-day teams is nearly the same. Which pretty much quashes the new-blood for old-legs argument. If anything, the new lot is just as impotent on the field.
These days, the popular refrain on commentary is that India concedes 20-30 runs in the field, and England saves that many. The mind’s numbed by these constant reminders but there is no escaping them. They continue to haunt you - 20-30 runs, 20-30 runs…
So, when you watch India play this season, it’ll be a remote in one hand, a prayer wheel in the other. And that Allman Brother’s song on your lips – “Sometimes I feel, like I been tied to the whipping post”
Whipping Post
By Allman Brother's Band
I been run down, I been lied to,I don't know why I let that mean woman make me a fool.She took all my money, wrecked my new car.Now she's with one of my goodtime buddies,They're drinkin' in some crosstown bar.Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,Like I been tied to the whipping post,Tied to the whipping post,Tied to the whipping post,Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.My friends tell me, that I've been such a fool,And I have to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you.Drown myself in sorrow, and I look at what you've done.But nothin' seems to change, the bad times and the shame,And I can't run.Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,Like I been tied to the whipping postTied to the whipping post,Tied to the whipping post,Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,Like I been tied to the whipping postTied to the whipping post,Tied to the whipping post,Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.
Crazy, but nowadays your misery isn’t related to the result alone. Regardless of whether India wins or loses, as long as they turn up, watching them is punishing beyond words, especially in one-day cricket.
For a while now, it’s been too easy to sink your canines into Indian cricket. Point is, you don’t have to. Indian cricket is bleeding badly, and there’s no clot in sight.
India has just gone down 3-1 in the ODI series. But that’s not a cardinal sin. Nor will losing the series 4-3, 5-2 or even 6-1. Why not 7-0 is beyond me, but that equation no longer exists.
With Indian cricket today, the result is inconsequential. To be honest, there should only be one result in one-dayers: defeat. That would only quicken any “process” that can emerge from these failures. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a much-scorned phrase - a Greg Chappellism to boot; but “The Process” is pulp in Indian cricket. Worse still, it’s been pulp for ages, and India has been winning in spite of that.
Now, India may still pull off an unlikely 4-3 series win over England. For, often when Indian cricket touches rock bottom, it bounces back unexpectedly. India threatened to do so at Old Trafford after a second spineless defeat. Though they scored a measly 212, they had England reeling at 114 for 7. And then true to type, the two babes of English cricket added nearly 100 for the 8th wicket.
But all this pales in comparison to India in the field. In a familiar parody of earlier games, Indian fielders evaded the cricket ball and vice versa. Look, the ball’s gone through him, past him, over him, under him - basically, the ball was beyond him. And he was beyond any kind of effort. If he tried, it might hurt. And he may break. Professional sport can be so tiring sometimes.
The Indian fielders had maxed out. They had nothing more to give. It was incredible that they were standing, bowling; even the occasional clap of hands would have been a strain.
Had it been a very long English summer? Was the ODI series a thankless load after a hard-fought test series win? Does India need specific players for each form of the game?
Taking a look at team compositions, India’s included six new players for the one-day series ( Powar, Chawla, Agarkar, Gambhir, Yuvraj and Munaf Patel.), and England’s fielded five new players (Flintoff, Broad, Bhopara, Mascharenis and Owais Shah). While the English are electric, some of India’s young bunch looks weary, almost on their last legs.
Interestingly, except for Dravid, Tendulkar and Ganguly, most Indian players are sill in their 20s; and the average age of the Indian and English one-day teams is nearly the same. Which pretty much quashes the new-blood for old-legs argument. If anything, the new lot is just as impotent on the field.
These days, the popular refrain on commentary is that India concedes 20-30 runs in the field, and England saves that many. The mind’s numbed by these constant reminders but there is no escaping them. They continue to haunt you - 20-30 runs, 20-30 runs…
So, when you watch India play this season, it’ll be a remote in one hand, a prayer wheel in the other. And that Allman Brother’s song on your lips – “Sometimes I feel, like I been tied to the whipping post”
Whipping Post
By Allman Brother's Band
I been run down, I been lied to,I don't know why I let that mean woman make me a fool.She took all my money, wrecked my new car.Now she's with one of my goodtime buddies,They're drinkin' in some crosstown bar.Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,Like I been tied to the whipping post,Tied to the whipping post,Tied to the whipping post,Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.My friends tell me, that I've been such a fool,And I have to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you.Drown myself in sorrow, and I look at what you've done.But nothin' seems to change, the bad times and the shame,And I can't run.Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,Like I been tied to the whipping postTied to the whipping post,Tied to the whipping post,Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,Like I been tied to the whipping postTied to the whipping post,Tied to the whipping post,Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.
August 01, 2007
Ugly Winners or Pretty Losers?
The high point of the second test at Trent Bridge was not when India consummated victory on the fifth morning. It was when they wooed her after tea on the fourth. The second new ball had just been taken. Zaheer Khan struck twice within two balls; first centurion Vaughan and then Bell for a blob. The match was won. At least it felt like that.
But this was not the first flash of victory. That was when R.P. Singh mesmerized Kevin Pietersen with a ripping in-swinger – a la Sandhu’s ball that flummoxed Greenidge in the 1983 Prudential World Cup.
It was even sweeter as it came after Michael Vaughan first lost it. Sreesanth had just bowled a beamer that nearly cleaned Pietresen up. However, this enraged Vaughan more than the flattened K.P. In spite of Sreesanth’s prompt apology, the English captain rambled on unabated. Something had to give – and it took two balls to get England’s premier batsman out twice. The second time KP nearly walked. A few hours later, India was on the brink of their first victory at Trent Bridge.
However, from England’s approach on the fifth morning, it was obvious that they were out to score some points, if not a win. The intent was to not allow India a huge margin of victory – like an outright ten wicket win. That anyway, is only reserved for the Aussies.
Also, something of England’s attitude reeked of the Aussie way of playing no-nonsense cricket. In the process, England scalped India’s openers and highest scorer of the first innings. And though India’s seven-wicket win is laudable, the last half hour took some of the sheen of it. It wasn’t as if India’s batsmen had walked all over England – on the contrary, the 15 extras made the win less tedious. That India got the winning runs via four byes summed up proceedings.
So, proceeding to the last test at the Oval, who has the upper hand? And had you asked this same question after the drawn Lord’s test what would have been the answer? In this often too-tight-to-call series, talk of upper hands amounts to nothing. Who would have expected India to draw the first test? And after that close shave, who would have predicted an Indian win at Trent Bridge?
So, to say that India has the upper hand for the last test is pointless. It’s worth taking stock - India won this test in spite of Kumble and Sreesanth. Kumble may have cleaned the tail twice, but he was mostly wayward. As for Sreesanth, it appeared, he was there for comic relief.
India won the match due to Zaheer Khan’s relentless spells and the opening partnership between two unsung heroes, Wasim Jaffer and Dinesh Karthik. After which India’s much touted middle order came to the party.
Still, at no point did India’s batting completely dominate – they laboured on, scoring at barely 3 runs per over in both innings, while England scored at 3.41 in the second innings – that without Kevin Pietersen coming for second helpings.
Guess that’s the deal with “winning ugly” – it’s not about how you get there, as long as you get there in the end. It’s not about how many flowing cover drives or cracking pulls you play – it could be a prod here, a prod there. Finally, that all adds up to 481. And a winning lead of 283.
But this was not the first flash of victory. That was when R.P. Singh mesmerized Kevin Pietersen with a ripping in-swinger – a la Sandhu’s ball that flummoxed Greenidge in the 1983 Prudential World Cup.
It was even sweeter as it came after Michael Vaughan first lost it. Sreesanth had just bowled a beamer that nearly cleaned Pietresen up. However, this enraged Vaughan more than the flattened K.P. In spite of Sreesanth’s prompt apology, the English captain rambled on unabated. Something had to give – and it took two balls to get England’s premier batsman out twice. The second time KP nearly walked. A few hours later, India was on the brink of their first victory at Trent Bridge.
However, from England’s approach on the fifth morning, it was obvious that they were out to score some points, if not a win. The intent was to not allow India a huge margin of victory – like an outright ten wicket win. That anyway, is only reserved for the Aussies.
Also, something of England’s attitude reeked of the Aussie way of playing no-nonsense cricket. In the process, England scalped India’s openers and highest scorer of the first innings. And though India’s seven-wicket win is laudable, the last half hour took some of the sheen of it. It wasn’t as if India’s batsmen had walked all over England – on the contrary, the 15 extras made the win less tedious. That India got the winning runs via four byes summed up proceedings.
So, proceeding to the last test at the Oval, who has the upper hand? And had you asked this same question after the drawn Lord’s test what would have been the answer? In this often too-tight-to-call series, talk of upper hands amounts to nothing. Who would have expected India to draw the first test? And after that close shave, who would have predicted an Indian win at Trent Bridge?
So, to say that India has the upper hand for the last test is pointless. It’s worth taking stock - India won this test in spite of Kumble and Sreesanth. Kumble may have cleaned the tail twice, but he was mostly wayward. As for Sreesanth, it appeared, he was there for comic relief.
India won the match due to Zaheer Khan’s relentless spells and the opening partnership between two unsung heroes, Wasim Jaffer and Dinesh Karthik. After which India’s much touted middle order came to the party.
Still, at no point did India’s batting completely dominate – they laboured on, scoring at barely 3 runs per over in both innings, while England scored at 3.41 in the second innings – that without Kevin Pietersen coming for second helpings.
Guess that’s the deal with “winning ugly” – it’s not about how you get there, as long as you get there in the end. It’s not about how many flowing cover drives or cracking pulls you play – it could be a prod here, a prod there. Finally, that all adds up to 481. And a winning lead of 283.
April 12, 2007
Losing our religion.
The last over of the England-Sri Lanka game felt like the first over of the World Cup. The World had finally come together, and some more. A heightened frenzy that only last-over crazies can conjure – if you’re not at the edge of your lazyboy, you’ve already keeled over. Perhaps, you’re being sucked in by the friendly cricketing poltergeist. Far removed from a day of resignations, derogations. You are in a cricketing orbit – you are in the game, the game is inside you. Innuendos aside, this is it.
And as I watch, it dawns upon me, somewhat prematurely, at 3.10 in the A.M., that Ravinder Singh Bopara (Rav Party?) who’s taking strike, and Sajid Iqbal Mahmood (Saj Pepper?) the non-striker, and Congenige Randhi Dilhara Fernando (Fernando!) who intends to strike the stumps out of the ground, are complete music in their diversity.
And that’s not all, there’s Nasser Hussain (former English skipper with an Indian father) coupled with Ranjit Fernando, former Sri Lankan player and member of the Nondescripts Cricket Club, on air. I’m on air.
If you started the 50th over, invoking the islanders to overcome the imperialists, Ravi Bopara’s four through square juggles your loyalties like a media savvy Indian cricketer. And whilst your mind does the proverbial ponder, the Pommies in the pond Splash, Boom, Bang! Can swear I counted every conceivable age group in that Pommy Pond. In a World Cup where the locals can’t afford the obscenely priced tickets, it takes the Barmy Army to make you feel frenzy.
And you’re forced to splash too, pumping the headphones till you go stone-deaf like Pete Townshend. Who’s that? Who cares! Boy, this is heaven-sent, godsend, and we’re not even half-way through the 50th.
The tension is tumultuous – in the media box, Nasser Hussain and Ranjit Fernando have completely lost their bearings, and rightly so. They have both settled for a tie, and have almost shaken on it. It’s too darn tricky. It’s now down to the last ball - 2 for a tie, 3 for an English victory. Bopara has the strike. Fernando to bowl, but he doesn’t. Nerves. Second take: He clean bowls Bopara. Sri Lanka win. Man of the Match: Bopara.
A matchless game – that created by default a level playing field for nearly every ethnic group. It didn’t matter whether Saj Mahmood was once labeled a “traitor” by the British Pakistani fans at Headingley. It didn’t matter if Bopara is a Singh. And Monty Panesar’s no flying Sikh. It didn’t matter whether Kevin Pietersen was once more South African than English. It didn’t matter that Nasser Hussain’s Daddy was Indian. What did matter was that they all wanted England to win. And like Kevin Pietersen’s visiting card once read, “Professional Cricketer”, there’s no greater commitment to sport than professionalism.
Written 5th April, 2007
And as I watch, it dawns upon me, somewhat prematurely, at 3.10 in the A.M., that Ravinder Singh Bopara (Rav Party?) who’s taking strike, and Sajid Iqbal Mahmood (Saj Pepper?) the non-striker, and Congenige Randhi Dilhara Fernando (Fernando!) who intends to strike the stumps out of the ground, are complete music in their diversity.
And that’s not all, there’s Nasser Hussain (former English skipper with an Indian father) coupled with Ranjit Fernando, former Sri Lankan player and member of the Nondescripts Cricket Club, on air. I’m on air.
If you started the 50th over, invoking the islanders to overcome the imperialists, Ravi Bopara’s four through square juggles your loyalties like a media savvy Indian cricketer. And whilst your mind does the proverbial ponder, the Pommies in the pond Splash, Boom, Bang! Can swear I counted every conceivable age group in that Pommy Pond. In a World Cup where the locals can’t afford the obscenely priced tickets, it takes the Barmy Army to make you feel frenzy.
And you’re forced to splash too, pumping the headphones till you go stone-deaf like Pete Townshend. Who’s that? Who cares! Boy, this is heaven-sent, godsend, and we’re not even half-way through the 50th.
The tension is tumultuous – in the media box, Nasser Hussain and Ranjit Fernando have completely lost their bearings, and rightly so. They have both settled for a tie, and have almost shaken on it. It’s too darn tricky. It’s now down to the last ball - 2 for a tie, 3 for an English victory. Bopara has the strike. Fernando to bowl, but he doesn’t. Nerves. Second take: He clean bowls Bopara. Sri Lanka win. Man of the Match: Bopara.
A matchless game – that created by default a level playing field for nearly every ethnic group. It didn’t matter whether Saj Mahmood was once labeled a “traitor” by the British Pakistani fans at Headingley. It didn’t matter if Bopara is a Singh. And Monty Panesar’s no flying Sikh. It didn’t matter whether Kevin Pietersen was once more South African than English. It didn’t matter that Nasser Hussain’s Daddy was Indian. What did matter was that they all wanted England to win. And like Kevin Pietersen’s visiting card once read, “Professional Cricketer”, there’s no greater commitment to sport than professionalism.
Written 5th April, 2007
April 05, 2007
A Joint Account of Hansie and Bob.
The first article I wrote on cricket, apart from the e-mails to friends, was a tribute to Hansie Cronje on cricinfo. Cronje's mysterious, and surreal death in a plane crash was like a metaphor for his cricketing life – one moment, dizzy heights, the next, abyss.
Cronje’s death, and a subsequent visit to cricinfo were compelling enough for me to write something meaningful in addition to the rants to friends. An incident had altered the peace of my almost benign cricketing world - something that went beyond setting targets and trivial pursuits. At that point it even went beyond the ghost of match fixing. In a strange way, it appeared to me that Cronje’s troubled ghost would lurk amongst us forever. As if the justice meted out to him wasn’t just. Partly because he was being singled out, and partly because of his unfathomable fall from grace. It was almost like that song, “when heroes go down, they go down fast”. Or that other one, “only the good die young”. Yes, in a way, Cronje’s death was akin to that of a Shakespearean tragedy, nothing short of Macbeth or Hamlet.
Apart from Hansie Cronje’s poker face, there are other images that remain – the manner in which he would bring himself to bowl that deceptive military medium stuff when Sachin Tendulkar was on song, often with the field restrictions in place. Surprisingly, he would place a leg slip, bowl a middle or leg stump line, and invariably outwit our young marauder, having him caught exactly there!
The other image of Cronje was of him coming halfway down the wicket, and lofting Muralitharan through midwicket. Then there is the earpiece for his master’s voice, Bob Woolmer. And now, that Woolmer is no more, I can almost make sense of both coach and captain. Why the leg-slip? Why attack Murali? Why the earpiece? It’s almost as if ingenuity recognizes itself in others. That and the soft-spoken studied air.
While both Woolmer and Cronje were illustrious enough to ascertain the elusive roadmap to success, it was eventually one decision that cost them dearly. While Cronje was match-fixed, Woolmer was Pakistaned. In the recent past, from the troubled England series onwards, Woolmer appeared mentally exhausted on most TV interviews. Gone was the ice cool coach accustomed to victory. The man appeared vulnerable, unsure, almost beaten by defeat and criticism. Is it any wonder after the repeated politicking, fiascos, abuse, expectations that are part of Pakistani cricket?
What’s more, the most respected man in Pakistani cricket, Imran Khan let lose his tirades against Woolmer – he openly condemned the coach and his lack of strategy in nearly every single article and show. Imagine how Imran Khan’s opinion would have undermined Woolmer’s place in Pakistani cricket. What would senior players who grew-up worshipping Imran Bhai have made of Woolmer?
But just like Inzi never batted up the order (much to Khan’s dismay), Woolmer, much to his own detriment continued as the Paki coach. Had Woolmer heeded the Khan’s advice, he may just have saved his life.
Also, what makes it so surreal in Woolmer’s case is that he seemed like this endearing plump Brit bloke juxtaposed with an enigmatic cold tech South African coaching machine. And with his Pakistani stint, it appears the balance of his two worlds were frequently disturbed.
As in Princess Di, Rajiv Gandhi and JFK’s case, the world mourns some losses more deeply than others. Perhaps, it’s that heart wrenching feeling of a dream unfilled. The sorrow of not ever knowing what could have been? And that is a sadness that tends to overpower you, because in a way, it has no answers. And essentially, human beings like answers.
written on March, 20, 2007.
Cronje’s death, and a subsequent visit to cricinfo were compelling enough for me to write something meaningful in addition to the rants to friends. An incident had altered the peace of my almost benign cricketing world - something that went beyond setting targets and trivial pursuits. At that point it even went beyond the ghost of match fixing. In a strange way, it appeared to me that Cronje’s troubled ghost would lurk amongst us forever. As if the justice meted out to him wasn’t just. Partly because he was being singled out, and partly because of his unfathomable fall from grace. It was almost like that song, “when heroes go down, they go down fast”. Or that other one, “only the good die young”. Yes, in a way, Cronje’s death was akin to that of a Shakespearean tragedy, nothing short of Macbeth or Hamlet.
Apart from Hansie Cronje’s poker face, there are other images that remain – the manner in which he would bring himself to bowl that deceptive military medium stuff when Sachin Tendulkar was on song, often with the field restrictions in place. Surprisingly, he would place a leg slip, bowl a middle or leg stump line, and invariably outwit our young marauder, having him caught exactly there!
The other image of Cronje was of him coming halfway down the wicket, and lofting Muralitharan through midwicket. Then there is the earpiece for his master’s voice, Bob Woolmer. And now, that Woolmer is no more, I can almost make sense of both coach and captain. Why the leg-slip? Why attack Murali? Why the earpiece? It’s almost as if ingenuity recognizes itself in others. That and the soft-spoken studied air.
While both Woolmer and Cronje were illustrious enough to ascertain the elusive roadmap to success, it was eventually one decision that cost them dearly. While Cronje was match-fixed, Woolmer was Pakistaned. In the recent past, from the troubled England series onwards, Woolmer appeared mentally exhausted on most TV interviews. Gone was the ice cool coach accustomed to victory. The man appeared vulnerable, unsure, almost beaten by defeat and criticism. Is it any wonder after the repeated politicking, fiascos, abuse, expectations that are part of Pakistani cricket?
What’s more, the most respected man in Pakistani cricket, Imran Khan let lose his tirades against Woolmer – he openly condemned the coach and his lack of strategy in nearly every single article and show. Imagine how Imran Khan’s opinion would have undermined Woolmer’s place in Pakistani cricket. What would senior players who grew-up worshipping Imran Bhai have made of Woolmer?
But just like Inzi never batted up the order (much to Khan’s dismay), Woolmer, much to his own detriment continued as the Paki coach. Had Woolmer heeded the Khan’s advice, he may just have saved his life.
Also, what makes it so surreal in Woolmer’s case is that he seemed like this endearing plump Brit bloke juxtaposed with an enigmatic cold tech South African coaching machine. And with his Pakistani stint, it appears the balance of his two worlds were frequently disturbed.
As in Princess Di, Rajiv Gandhi and JFK’s case, the world mourns some losses more deeply than others. Perhaps, it’s that heart wrenching feeling of a dream unfilled. The sorrow of not ever knowing what could have been? And that is a sadness that tends to overpower you, because in a way, it has no answers. And essentially, human beings like answers.
written on March, 20, 2007.
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