Skip to main content

All or none

The discerning reader may have noticed that I'm not much for trumpeting about sport on this blog. Yes, every now and then, a post on my enduring love of test cricket will sneak through. Going-ons at Manchester United will rouse me into thrashing out an indignant paragraph. The retirement of sportsmen I thoroughly admire (and they are far & few) will elicit a nostalgic post doused in thanksgiving. But, I can never get myself to slip over the edge of fanaticism.

As this post is typing itself, Pakistan, after having wrestled Australia to the mat by the force of Darth Asif, promptly tripped over their own feet & now lie sprawled on the metaphorical pitch themselves. Mohd. Yousuf, their short-suffering captain (no one is captain long enough to be long-suffering in that country) may just decide to bat alone for the rest of the series, since the rest of that lot don't feel inclined to hang around. They probably think grafting is something to do with tree-cutting or making money on the sly. Speaking of sly money-making, match-fixing, anyone ?

The SA-England game in Durban is see-sawing in a way that no doubt sends the neutral viewer into raptures while leaving the not-so-neutral chappies wondering what in heaven's name is going on. I can sympathise with Onions though. The guy does his job, ends the SA innings and strolls off into the gazebo looking forward to a nice break & 20 minutes later, must seriously face the prospect of having to pad up. And he's the number 11, mind.

The Bangladesh innings looks like it'll get to 50 overs. Enough said.

To top it all off, Manchester United suffered their worst FA Cup upset in 26 years. Now, I'm a Man U fan i.e. loathe Liverpool & have no respect for Chelsea's 2 $ titles, but the funny thing is, I actually liked that they lost.

See, sport at it's finest allows the competitors an equal chance to win. Leaving aside the tomfoolery of umpires & referees, cheating, sledging (what's the difference eh ?) and the UDRS, it is as exciting a bloodless battle as you will ever see. Of course, if you have supported the eventual loser & suffer the keen sorrow of their defeat, I understand. But here's the thing; the phenomenon is in the end, after the reduction to it's bare necessities, a Game. And that means, on any given day, playing to the best of it's abilities, egged on by thunderous roaring, under sunshine or floodlight, a no-hoper may just defy the odds.

Or not.

For a fraction of a moment, in your tryingly certain world, the Game proffers uncertainty. Tell me that's not valuable.

Song for the moment: Battle without honour or humanity - Tomayasu Hotei

P.S: I dare you to listen to this song & not associate it with your favourite moment of sporting carnage.

P.P.S:
The love of the game is fine & all, but India must win / draw it's Test Matches. I'm only human.

Comments

Next to Nothing said…
So I finally got down to reeding your blog again...god stuff man..especially likes this article..

Cheers

Binoy Mascarenhas
Anonymous said…
Thanks dude... keep visiting.

Popular posts from this blog

Night Boat

I usually don't write honest pieces. They're true to facts but I tend to lather my emotions and thoughts with a heavy dose of attempted humour or misdirection. This post deserves some raw emotional honesty, though.

Yesterday, 29th August, a Tuesday (or should I say, another Tuesday) was about me making choices. It was raining quite heavily when I left for office, sheeted down the windows of the train throughout the 1-hour journey to Churchgate and kept going with renewed intensity by the time I made it to the entrance, looking verily like something that had drowned in a gutter and lain there a while before being discovered by a cat and dragged in. I made the choice to go to work as I suspected my boss would be there and not because I wanted to go.

I was right about my boss but that cardiac fizz of being right flattened out rather rapidly once I realised, around 11:30 am, that no one else from my team of 20 had bothered to make a similar effort. And, some of these guys live 5 …

Drink up and be somebody

Dear Reader,

History will boldly testify that your favourite blogger is usually slow on the uptake, a state of affairs that's blooming with each passing year like a reverse-Revital. "Why this self-harshness, G", you may ask? Well...

I've been doing the Bom-Pune-Bom trips for 9 years and it's taken about that long to accept that MSRTC Shivneri, still the best bus service of them all, simply cannot (or, realistically, will not) cope with 3-day weekends. Since my job profile does not allow me to plan my travel in advance on said Fridays, I land up at Dadar, view the queue of potential passengers snaking a long way from the ticket window and mentally prepare to arrive home at the hour of morning reserved for sheepish teenagers and dacoits. The Expressway doesn't help anyone's cause thanks to truck drivers spreading themselves generously across 3 lanes and clogging the Lonavala pass to a point where the traffic jam is about 3 km long. A stretch that would tak…

Country Comforts

Part 1

With timing that was far more impeccable than their usual service, the MSRTC went on strike 2 days before Diwali over a pay dispute. I've traveled on their buses for close to 9 years and know full well just how popular they can be just before a major holiday. The chaotic crowd at Dadar is so dense, one would only need to introduce a few Naga sadhus into the mix and hey presto! we've got ourselves a brand new Kumbh Mela. Albeit one where getting out of Bombay ASAP is the only kind of salvation devotees seek. 

News and newspapers being what they are at present, I was unaware of the jolly bus crisis until Wednesday morning when a well-wisher asked how I proposed to go home for the holidays, flourishing the paper in my face with the reluctant panache of a small-town magician. Realising the gravity of the situation, I looked up train schedules and was stunned to find General category seats available on an outstation train departing later that afternoon. As far as I could see, …