India!!

One hour away from the twenty20 finals and I still can’t believe we made it there. I had little doubt we’d even make it close to the semis - I thought the team was all wrong, the itinerary was claustrophobic, the bowling was weak, the fielding was lost, the board was asleep, and there was no coach. Enough reason to believe it was a lost cause. And yet, despite all of the above, and more, here we are. So win or lose today, I won’t crib. For a change I have no reason too.

In other terrifying news ...

Ajit Agarkar is in South Africa for the 20-20 world cup.

*shudder shudder*

So Remember:

• Keep all heavy objects as far away from the couch as possible. Remember, Agarkar will not buy you a new TV set.

• Keep your fingers (and fingernails) away from your eyes, hair and veins. Gouged eyes are hard to replace, and Agarkar will not help you find new hair. He doesn’t care for torn veins either.

• If you’re pregnant: Woman Please! Don’t do this to your unborn child! And more importantly don't you know the wee baby will make you pay for it during labour.

• If you have kids - Protect them. Shield them. There is time to save them yet!

• If you have a weak heart, this will be considered as a suicide attempt, and that is a criminal offence.

• Visit your doctor before the game. Get a prescription for sedatives. Ask the doctor to get one too.

• Practice before the game. Watch reruns of the England series.

• Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.

• If all else fails blame the ISI. Or Bush. Or the Left. Or Salman Khan.
  

People of India unite in therapy.

Update: Zimbabwe just beat Australia! Zimbabwe!! I love it! I love it! I love it!

Conditioning

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

Have paid for telecast. Must watch match.

update: could someone please run over ajit agarkar? and not just with the bat this time ... i was thinking maybe a tank ... hell even a rickshaw will do ...

OMG!!

omg omg omg!

Now, if only they can manage NOT to screw this up...

Aai ga!!

More on the coach tamasha, looks like Sunny G has prevailed, and Whatmore will not be making as much money as he hoped. But here's the spanner in the works, we could have this guy for coach. Damn promising, this is turning out to be...

Horrors!

Somebody please tell Kapil Dev to SHUT UP! In a horrifying snippet from Cricinfo, I gather the man has been thundering nonsense again. I know that's what generally happens when he opens his mouth, but this time, I worry that someone from the Board of Cricket and Chaos in India might be listening. Worse still, they might pick up on this idiocracy and put me off cricket forever!

"Who is Whatmore," he thundered in an interview in the Telegraph, the Kolkata based daily. "Why do we need to talk about Whatmore? Or, for that matter, anybody not associated with our team at this point in time. In my opinion, when Ravi (Shastri) isn't available after Bangladesh, the Board should give the coach's powers to Venkatesh Prasad and Robin Singh, both of whom have played international cricket and are currently working with the boys."

Aaarrrrh, Robin Singh, I can try and understand, but Venkatesh Prasad! Come on, he isn't even a real cricketer for crying out loud!! Seriously when you're trying to un-rubbish the team, you shouldn't toy with them, or the few fans left, like this :(

Murder

He had a history of being stalked by the dark side of cricket. Kerry Packer, Hansie Cronje and now death. Ironic how the game he loved so much, took away so much from him.

R.I.P

Bob Woolmer
1948-2007

Shhh

No cricket post for me.

!!

Yaaaaaaaay! Leprechauns on the cricket field!

Quack

I had a good sports day yesterday. Chelsea won, in one of their rare Drogba didn’t score, Ballack did, games. India got through a warm up game without any (too many) scars. And I came across this …

Cup of Joy?

The Football World Cup;
Breaking millions of hearts since 1930.

A Football Match and Other Things

In other earth-shattering events this week was the game between Italy and Australia. After chasing the ball around for 89 dull as an empty saucepan minutes, four men stood up to the challenge and made the game ever so slightly interesting. Suddenly stretching yawns snapped shut and drooping eyelids lit up in absolute attention. Ah, how a dead game can be brought alive with a little controversy.

So this is how it plays out, this poor (metaphorically speaking of course) Aussi player, Lucas Neil, stumbles and trips over the last thirty seconds of the game. As Lucas falls, a smart (or maybe just plain lucky) Italian, Fabio Gross, who has been wildly chasing Lucas around these dying seconds, trips over him, and over the last thirty seconds now lying crushed somewhere under Lucas, and also falls.

Clearly there is no foul play here, there’s no space for any dying minute drama. And right here, perfectly on cue our little twist makes an entry. The referee blows his whistle. “PENALTY!” he screams out. How? Where did that come from? Hello? And awards the elixir of life to the Azzurri. The football-loving world squirms, boos and jeers. But really, as bad as it was, I don’t blame the poor referee. Come on; put yourself in his worn out hi-end shoes. Imagine trotting around this hopeless game for almost 90 deadpan minutes. Just the thought of thirty more, will bring the whistle flying to your lips and your finger, pointing to the penalty spot. And the referee is just as human.

Now, getting back to the game, Francesco Totti takes the kick. Scores and Italy are home. It is this kick that has me all bewildered and speechless. This, is my earth-shattering moment. See, all this while, as the game was crawling on, I was fighting battles of my own. I was violently chasing sleep away from the corner of my eyes, and in the midst of it all I failed to notice Francesco’s boring new hair cut!

Why in the whole world would (Ah! How's this for alliteration?) you chop those stunning locks off? WHY, PRAY TELL ME, WHY? Why would you trade this absolutely yummy look for a downsized just-a-really-good-looking look? I’m baffled. This has left me more perplexed then the referee’s bizarre decision. That I could figure out (read above), this I just can’t.

Play Red

Once upon a time I used pity football referees.

Poor guys. They make a living on the sidelines of action. Almost-ran ageing men scampering around with whistles and tiring lungs. They huff and puff and try to catch up with the ball and where it'll be sent next. Is it football? Is it theatre? Complex questions to be answered throughout the game. It’s a hard job with lousy returns. Eye-full of spit blobs from disgruntled players. Boos and jeers from rowdy fans all over. No part of the glamour. Not even the paycheck. It’s a job that no sane mind would willingly take.

That was then. This is now. A change of mind was always on the cards.

Today I understand the equations. It's crystal clear. I recognise the most powerful men on the field, I envy these red card-totting devils. The players might have the glamour but referees hold the strings to cut short their fame. Piss our men off and oops there goes your next game. Talk out of turn, roll around a little more, take your own time, stick your elbow out of line. Challenge fate. Bring out the colour red. The whistle blows and out you go.

The biggest names, the richest players, all at the mercy of these card-wielding outsiders.

Give me that kind of power any day. Let me be the outsider in this game.