Back Without A Bang

Ok, I'll admit I can no longer stand the guilt that comes with not writing a post for over a month; I feel I can be brave enough to concede that the only reason I'm writing this is because every other blog writer I know continues to merrily write post after post without so much as a hint of a furrowed brow, while my blog has been languishing in the sorrowful shadows, unattended and ignored. Ugh, looks like the month-long hiatus has made my writing a little over-dramatic. But what the heck, as long as I'm writing something....

Perhaps the most significant development in the last one month, other than Hilary Clinton closing the gap on Barack Obama in the Democratic presidential race in the US, the previously unheard-of phenomenon of foodgrain scarcity scaring the living daylights out of Americans, Priyanka Gandhi meeting with one of the assassins responsible for her father's death, and our dear old MSEB announcing that Pune will not have to face load-shedding at least until September but deciding to subject Puneites anyway to frequent, painful power-cuts lasting anywhere between 5 seconds and 5 hours (whew, this is turning out to be one long sentence), has been the roaring success of the Indian Premier League, or IPL, to be more hep about it. Actually, 'roaring success' might be an understatement - there's something so enthralling, so rivetingly amusing about seeing those mighty Australian and South African players being meekly obedient to their Indian captains and eagerly putting in the yards to, oh, defeat just another State team filled with a bunch of second class Indian cricketers, that there never really should have been a doubt about the success of the tournament. It helps, of course, that the format of the tournament is eerily similar to that of the many football leagues in Europe that are so wildly popular with a small but substantial segment of Indian sports watchers. The IPL has done to cricket what a 100 years of Test cricket and 40 years of one-day cricket couldn't: it has made cricket, in every shallow and amateurish sense of the term, 'cool'. Way to go, BCCI!


In other news, the tennis clay season has begun, and the question that has enchanted and consumed tennis followers for the past 3 years has surfaced again: can Roger Federer beat Rafael Nadal at the French Open? Federer, for his part, seems to have overcome his early season hiccups by stringing together two consecutive finals appearances on his least favourite surface, notching up his first title of the year at Estoril before losing to Rafael Nadal in the final at Monte Carlo. Yeah, I know, nothing new or earth-shattering about that last bit - Federer losing to Nadal on clay has become somewhat of a given, has it not? What does surprise me, however, is the continued and insistent belief that Federer's supporters hold that he will, one day, manage to overcome the King of Clay at the French Open. I mean seriously, if you saw how much advice, not support, but advice that Federer gets before each match that he plays against Nadal from thousands of people who may never have wielded a racquet their whole lives , you'd think Federer was the prized protege of nearly half of the tennis-watching population of the world. Play the slice backhand. Use the forehand dropshot. Come to the net more often. Attack Nadal's second serve more aggressively. Improve your serving percentage. Some have even suggested switching over from a one-handed backhand (that gorgeous beauty of a shot) to a two-handed one. Even Jose Higueras, Federer's celebrated (?) new coach, hasn't been spared the 'expert' counsel. In the midst of all this, some rather more well-informed columnists gravely pronounce that Nadal on clay is a puzzle that cannot be solved; that Federer simply does not have the patience or fitness to get the better of the muscular Spaniard on dirt. How true is that last statement? Being a sworn Federer fan, I like to believe that it isn't in the least true; but it's all rather pointless for us to be armchair psychologists, is it not? At the end of the day Federer has to go out on the court and play solid tennis and outwit Nadal. Nothing more, nothing less. In the meantime, he can continue to delight us by displaying the kind of dazzling tennis that he put on show in his quarterfinal match against old nemesis David Nalbandian, and by handing out a few dozen more defeats to Novak Djokovic, preferably including several bagel sets. And of course, a few more moments like the "Be quiet, ok?" admonition that he shouted out to Djokovic's mother in their semi-final match at Monte Carlo. That was just so unexpected and so very wonderful. I mean, wow.


Watched a couple of Bollywood flicks last week, first Tashan, a strange movie that has all the right ideas but falls sorely short in execution. The first half is stylish and mildly interesting, the second half shoddy and exasperating. A shame, really, considering the extraordinary hype generated by the movie before its release and the oodles of hard work that must have been put in by Kareena Kapoor to achieve that thing called size zero. The other flick that I watched, U Me Aur Hum, is almost the reverse of Tashan - intolerably boring first half, mildly touching second half. Here too, the makers had a great premise, but the mandatory theatrics and Bollywood-style wooing sequences ruin things considerably. Kajol comes up with a vintage performance - even after all these years, she still holds, in my opinion, stomping rights to the mantle of being the best actress in Bollywood, and there are quite a few heart-rending scenes towards the end of the movie, but that's just about it. Just a thought: is the tagline of the movie, "Sometimes the greatest journey is the distance between two people" supposed to be a quote from an outside source, knowing as we do how the Ed Norton starrer The Painted Veil has the exact same tagline, or is this another pathetic attempt at thinly disguised plagiarism by Bollywood's dear old thieves?

Okay, for what seems like the umpteenth time, I seem to have run riot with my post - there's nothing more irritating than a post that never seems to end, is there? So I'll end right here - no conclusion, no dramatic parting line. Yes, this is it. The End. I quite like the ring of that. Hehehe.

Overreacting to Molehills

It's been 3 days since the India-Australia Test at Sydney got over, but the furore over the events during the match simply refuses to subside. I suppose you could call this a good thing, what with Test cricket getting such passionate attention after a prolonged spell of unpopularity, but that would be being optimistic in the extreme. You know what else has been extreme? The knee-jerk and unreasonable reactions to the whole unfortunate episode. I'm sorry, but threatening to boycott a cricket tour because of a couple of bad umpiring decisions and a harsh sentence for an allegedly racist remark is going WAY overboard. I wonder if the series would have been in as much jeopardy as it is now if India had managed to save the Test?

The media has been every bit as excessive in its assessment of the affair as the boycott-happy Indian cricket board. The Times of India has been particularly boisterous in its coverage of the episode, first calling for the result of the Test to be annulled and then proceeding to devote headline after headline (and editorials too) to the threatened tour. Perhaps someone should tell the guys up at The Times of India that if the result of every Test match that suffered from umpiring errors was annulled, there would barely be more than a couple of Test results in the sub-continent in the 80's and early 90's. Umpiring errors, specially when they come from non-biased umpires (Steve Bucknor and Mark Benson are both 'neutral' umpires; they have almost no connection with Australia or Australian cricket) have to be taken with a pinch of salt; there's nothing much you can do about them until the ICC and the cricketing world in general realize the importance of bringing technology into all decisions on the cricket field. So much for level-headed common sense.

As far as the 'bad sportsmanship' of the Australian cricketers is concerned, I'd like to know when the Aussies have ever been a saintly group of sweet-talkers. The Kangaroos have been known to be past masters at sledging, or 'mental disintegration' as Steve Waugh liked to euphemistically put it, and if the rest of the cricketing world could tolerate their nonsense for a whole decade, then why the hue and cry all of a sudden? The English and their 'jellybeans' tactics hadn't attracted half as fierce a backlash as the Aussies have in this Test, which makes me really wonder whether it's just human nature to revel in the foibles of the mighty and the powerful. And puh-lease, since when has claiming half volley catches become a criminal offense? Nearly every player in the world has done it at some point of his career, and while that doesn't make it any less distasteful, it certainly does raise a few questions about the indignant reactions to Michael Clarke's catch to dismiss Sourav Ganguly (which, incidentally, wasn't even proven to be conclusively illegal).

The Harbhajan Singh-Andrew Symonds spat was a serious issue, I'll admit, but wouldn't a straightforward motion for an appeal (which is all the Indian management was left to do eventually anyway) have sufficed, rather than the dramatic boycott threats and disturbingly grave statements that the BCCI so foolishly indulged in? Ah, theatrics! How we love to honour thee! Ok, maybe that was a little cheesy, but I really am at pains to understand why the media and the Indian cricket board have made such a big issue out of this matter. It was only a cricket match, after all - a cricket match in which a few decisions unfortunately and unwittingly decided the course of the match, but also a cricket match in which one team lost because it couldn't survive an over of part-time left-arm spin. Perhaps it would do the Indian team a whole lot of good if its management spent half as much time and effort as it did in attacking the umpiring and refereeing in the match into teaching its bowlers how to hold a bat.

Cricket 2007: Awards

It’s that time of the year again. No, I won’t be a cynical prick this time by bemoaning everything that’s wrong with silly New Year’s parties and launching into the ridiculous behaviour of the depressing bunch of people that make up the party-going crowd. Instead, I’ll follow the second most popular trend that people tend to follow at this time of the year – compiling ‘best of the year’ lists. So here is the first of 3 lists that I have come up with:

I. CRICKET:

Team of the year: Perhaps the most yawn-inducing category. Was there even a hint of a challenge to Australia’s supremacy in any form of cricket that lasted longer than 4 hours? I don’t know why opposing teams even bother to turn up against Ricky Ponting’s demons.

Player of the year: An infinitely more difficult category than the first. Do I give the nod to Jacques Kallis’s metronomic brilliance, Kumar Sangakkara’s assured artistry or Muttiah Muralitharan’s mind-numbing consistency? Purely in statistical terms Sangakkara was beyond all competition, but I think I’ll go with Kallis because of the quality of opposition he faced while making all those hundreds and the grittiness of his response to being omitted from the 20-20 squad.

Match of the year: A tough contest between the Australia-South Africa group clash at the 50-50 World Cup, the Sri Lanka-South Africa thriller at the same tournament and the two Indo-Pak battles at the 20-20 World Cup. The Indo-Pak matches - both of them - get my vote for the sheer novelty and thrill quotient of 20-20 matches.

Tragedy of the year: No disrespect to Bob Woolmer, but the pathetic organization of the 50-over World Cup was the unqualified disaster of the year. The forlorn crowds and lack of competition at the event made most cricket aficionados shake their heads and wonder whether this was the worst World Cup ever, only for the ICC to seal the debate by declaring that contrary to popular belief, the tournament was a resounding success. Reality check, anyone?

Goof-up of the year: Without a doubt the cringe-worthy farce at the end of the World Cup final. Seriously, what was Aleem Dar thinking? Honorable mentions to the Jamaican police for their cheap mystery novel antics after Bob Woolmer’s tragic death and Pakistan’s captain Shoaib Malik who was daft enough to be ignorant of the bowl-out rule at the 20-20 World Cup and dafter still to actually express his ignorance to the world.

Guffaw-worthy moment of the year: The winner here is Shane Warne’s George W. Bush-worthy gaffe, wherein he accidentally sent a dirty SMS to his wife which, quite remarkably, was addressed to someone else. Honestly, that guy’s got one thick head. It’s a miracle he actually knew which side of the pitch to bowl to, with a brain like that.

Colourful character of the year: Santhakumaran Sreesanth, how ridiculous art thou? The bat-swinging in Andre Nel’s face (Nel, incidentally, was another strong candidate for this award) last year was adorable, but Sreesanth's incredibly wayward bowling on the England tour, his riveting altercations with Andrew Symonds, his moments of infamy like the one where he tried to unsportingly run Symonds out and his astoundingly intelligent interviews have made him one of the most polarizing cricketers in the world, and also THE cricketing character of the year. Move over Shane Warne, your successor is here.

Debutant of the year: Mitchell Johnson may not have had quite such an eventful Test debut, but he’s shaping up to be a darn good bowler in all forms of the game and there was no other significant debut all year, so an automatic choice, really.

Let-down of the year: Brian Lara’s failures in the ICL, the rebel 20-20 league floated by Kapil Dev and Co may not have tarnished his legacy all that much, considering the very small number of people who took the ICL seriously, but his decidedly sub-par performances were still quite depressing. After all the hoopla surrounding the ICL’s very expensive signing of the legendary Trinidadian, Lara disappointed spectacularly, barely reaching double figures in any innings. A joke went around that Lara’s runs were some of the most expensive in history, what with his paltry 31 runs through the tournament fetching him a reported 1 million dollars. I’m sure Lara wouldn’t be amused.

Quote of the year: The quote I have selected is not particularly witty or humourous, but its emotional appeal, specially for Indian cricket fans, make it one of the most memorable quotes of the decade. Here's Mahendra Singh Dhoni on seeing the tumultuous response given to his World Cup-winning team in Mumbai:
"We are told that Mumbai is a city which is always on the move. See, me and my boys have brought the entire city to a standstill today."

Me Bored, So Me Write

I never thought I'd literally see a phrase written all over an event, but it was really hard to keep away the phrase 'too much of a good thing' from my mind while watching the 1st of 3 Test matches between India and Pakistan in Delhi. Honestly, the cricket throughout the match was so vapid and flavourless that it was startling. It didn't help, of course, that the current Pakistan team has about as much talent as a second string New Zealand team. The fizz has clearly fizzled out of Indo-Pak cricket and anyone who still insists that the cross-border rivalry is the definitive cricketing rivalry in the world needs to be rapped sharply on the head with a golfing iron or worse still, be forced to watch the movie Beowulf twice in a row. As a cricket fan, I'd like nothing better than the two countries to go back to their precious bickering and huffy cold shoulders (though only in the cricketing arena). Surely that would bring back the crackling intensity that once made Indo-Pak cricket so thoroughly mesmerizing? And for a short-term solution, how about giving Virender Sehwag a game or two?

Watched Bhool Bhulaiya over the weekend, and I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. Akshay Kumar really has come into his own after all those long, tiring years of insipid roles and lame acting. The show-stealer, however, is undoubtedly the magnificent Vidya Balan who's possibly brought the most engaging charisma and endearing screen presence to the movies since the days of Madhuri Dixit. If only Bollywood was a little kinder to its less beautiful citizens....

Incidentally, if you're at all planning on extracting revenge from a particularly disagreeable adversary, you'd be well-advised to gift him tickets to the movie Beowulf. The poor guy won't know what hit him.

10 Things We Learnt From the 20-20 World Cup

To call the recently-concluded Twenty20 World Cup anything less than a roaring success wouldn't quite be a shameful blasphemy, but would certainly be mighty close to it. We should know, the ICC officials wouldn't be grinning from ear to ear if the event was anywhere near as bland as the 50-50 World Cup in the West Indies. So what were the things that we learned from this very special event? Taking a cue from the innumerable movie message boards across the internet, I'll do my own list of the 10 most significant lessons that the Twenty20 World Cup taught us:

1. An Indo-Pak match is an Indo-Pak match is an Indo-Pak match: Maybe this isn't such a new lesson. No matter how strange the format or how neutral the venue, India and Pakistan really do know how to produce electrifying cricket matches with more twists than your average Bourne flick. If the first round encounter between the two turned out to be historic, what with the bowl-out and all, the final that these two teams put on show is already being heralded as the best finale to a major tournament in cricketing history. The Ashes? What's that?

2. South Africa are chokers, but never expect Graeme Smith to admit that: Honestly, Mr. Smith, the cricketing world is tired of bringing up that semi-final of the 1999 World Cup whenever your team crashes out of a major tournament inexplicably. Why not spare us the trouble and not raise everyone's expectations by performing so brilliantly in unimportant matches?

3. Stuart Broad can do a Daan van Bunge: I know, I should probably concentrate on Yuvraj Singh's jaw-dropping splendor in that unforgettable 6 sixes-over, but pray why has no one thought of taking a poke (or several pokes) at the bowler who made it all possible, Stuart Broad? The fact that only one international bowler (a Netherlands bowler, no less) in the history of cricket has ever let such an embarrassment come to pass should be a fair indication of how poorly Broad bowled in that over. Ah, the English! They can be quite freakish sometimes. And that brings me to the next lesson.....

4. The English can be pathetic at every innovation that they bring into cricket: Ok, 'pathetic' may be a little harsh here, but the English side was supposed to have a better shot than most at winning the tournament, armed as it was with a battalion of '20-20 bits-and-pieces specialist cricketers' and because, well, they started 20-20 cricket. Which is why the solitary win against Zimbabwe must hurt, perhaps even more than their customary insipid performances at the 50-over World Cups. 'Skill' is still the most important virtue for a modern cricketer, dear Englishmen.

5. Santhakumaran Sreesanth will perpetually try to be the Shahid Afridi of the bowlers: 21 runs off his first over, 0 from his second. Was he trying to create some kind of record? To be fair to him, he did bowl brilliantly against Australia and he played a big role in India's victory over Pakistan in the first round. But I do know that if India had lost the final to Pakistan, forgiving Sreesanth would have been a pretty hard thing to do. How do you let a batsman like Sohail Tanvir hit you for 2 sixes in a single, desperately crucial over?

6. Mahendra Singh Dhoni can make singularly inspired decisions: The tournament made a strong case for Dhoni to be appointed the Test skipper to go with his newly-acquired one-day responsibilities. His choice of players to bowl in the bowl-out was fantastic to say the least, and his handling of remarkably inept bowlers like Joginder Sharma deserves applause of the highest order. Maybe if he regained some of his batting magic the selectors will give him the chance he so thoroughly deserves?

7. It's never too late to announce your arrival on the international cricket stage: At 33, Misbah-ul-Haq is 3 years older than Mike Hussey was when Hussey first started to show the cricketing world that there can be better finishers of a match than Michael Bevan. And yet, Misbah batted so breathtakingly well throughout the tournament that one was almost tempted to give him the title of 'Best finisher in world cricket', or even 'Mr. Cricket', if you will. Unfortunately for him, only 'almost' - the cute chip/nudge/glance or whatever other name you wish to give to the ungainly shot that Misbah played on the last ball of the tournament will haunt him for the rest of his life. Nevertheless, Misbah undoubtedly was the most unlikely star of the World Cup - he sprang up from virtual nothingness and played not one, but two innings for the ages during the tournament; I'm sure Mohammad Yousuf isn't quite so wild now that he lost his place in the team to a nobody like Misbah.

8. Australia are not invincible in every format of the game, and Ricky Ponting can get REAL cranky about that: Just as we were getting over Graeme Smith's child-like condemnation of the tournament's format that was supposedly responsible for his side's early exit, Ricky Ponting came out and blamed everything in sight for his side's rather unexpected early exit (on a side note, it's a mark of Australia's supremacy in all forms of the game that a semi-final loss is dubbed an 'early exit'). Lack of match practice, his openers being too prolific for his side's own good, luck, the cruel scheduling of Australia's matches in distant venues.....the list was endless. Dear me, have the elements all of a sudden turned their back on the Australian cricket team? Or did Ponting listen to one Serena Williams press conference too many?

9. You can score a century in a 20-20 match, and still end up on the losing side: Poor Chris Gayle, he was in such a violent mood in the very first match of the tournament, bludgeoning 10 sixes and blowing the South African attack to pieces, that it seems he scared his own bowlers. I'm sorry, but the West Indies bowling attack is really quite ridiculously spineless, and it wouldn't surprise me if Chris Gayle ended up on the losing side even if he made a double century. Honestly, nothing about this West Indian team can surprise me any more. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

10. Twenty20 Cricket is THE FUTURE: Daniel Vettori and Adam Gilchrist can turn their noses up at the format all they want, but it is clear that if cricket wants to have any semblance of an existence on the world sports stage, then it's got to invest in Twenty20. Get rid of 50-over cricket within a year, I say. And puh-lease, get rid of the ludicrous dancers/cheerleaders too.

Cricket Gets Its Saviour, Tennis On The Lookout For One

As Chris Gayle got down to some seriously savage ball-thwacking in the first match of the Twenty20 World Cup between West Indies and South Africa, all I could think was: why are they still playing 50-over cricket? If any cricket follower still feels the need to defend the logic of holding 50-over tournaments in the face of the adrenaline-rushing, maddeningly exciting blur that is Twenty20 cricket, then I have to fear for his sanity. Cricket needed something to save itself from the embarrassing doldrums that it was plunged into after the match-fixing saga, and it has got one. Twenty20 is fresh, innovative, thrilling and intense: just about everything you'd ask for in a modern sport. Thankfully, Twenty20 is also a money-spinner, and that would probably be a good enough reason to induce the bunch of dolts that is the ICC, which had the gall to insist to an outraged cricket community that this year's World Cup in the West Indies was a 'great success', to do some progressive work for a change. And while they're busy slobbering over the enormous mounds of money that they're bound to make through this new golden egg, will someone advise the idiots to push for Twenty20 cricket to be included in the Olympics?


Speaking of Olympics, I'm sure the fact that tennis is an Olympic sport must have alerted a lot of tennis followers to the deliciously fascinating possibilities the next year holds for a certain male tennis player. Roger Federer has achieved just about everything there is to achieve in tennis, having this week added yet another Grand Slam title to his already bulging collection by defeating Novak Djokovic in the US Open final, but a 'Golden Slam' might just be the one thing that firmly and eternally closes the GOAT debate. It's never been done before by a male player - Steffi Graf managed to win the Olympic gold medal in addition to the 4 Grand Slams in 1988, but no man has ever even come close to such a feat. Of course, Andre Agassi does have a career Golden Slam, but his career spanned two decades, so there. (On a side note, isn't it simply fabulous that the only two players in the history of tennis to have completed Golden Slams, whether in a calendar year or a career, ended up being married to each other?). The French Open remains the most worrying obstacle for Federer to achieve this Holy Grail-like accomplishment, but I like to believe that he's been saving it for the year when the full force of his achievements will hit the tennis world like a tornado. Yes, a Golden Slam next year would be totally stunningly terrific, and honestly, if anyone could ever do it, then it's got to be him. Federer will, however, have to watch out for an outlandish young player who likes to do silly impersonations of his well-respected peers, looks to the crowd instead of his coach when in need of advice whether to challenge a call, and who goes by the name of Novak Djokovic.

They said Federer didn't win the US Open final as much as Djokovic lost it, and for once they were right. When you get 7 set points spread over 2 sets, 5 of them on your serve, and fail to convert a single one of them, it says a lot about your poor mental strength, but if you're playing Federer, it also says a lot about your huge talent. Federer played awful for long periods during the game, I agree, but at times he was also outdone by Djoker's range of shots, his amazing movement, his effective serve and his exquisitely potent backhand. He's almost like a mini-Federer, to be very blunt. Of course, Federer managed to withstand all of Djokovic's weapons without so much as a grunt of frustration, armed as he always is with his own, much more important weapons like the ability to play the big points alarmingly well and an almost indefatigable serve. And that's precisely why he is THE Federer, all glory and perfection, and not a 'mini-Federer'. But Djokovic, it cannot be denied, is an irresistible talent, and it seems clear that from now on Federer will have not one (we've almost forgotten Rafael Nadal, haven't we?), but two great rivals. All the more motivation, I think, for Federer to raise the bar even higher, even if age isn't exactly on his side, and go for something that no man has ever dreamed of before. And oh, Pete Sampras's record is just a formality now, don't you think? 14 Grand Slams? If I were Federer, and that's a big 'if', I wouldn't settle for anything less than 18. Maybe even 20. Scary? You bet.

A Tournament with many Losers

As the Aussie juggernaut, no wait, I'll have to rephrase that - 'juggernaut' is really quite a horrible cliche; so, as the Aussie missile tank cruised towards a thoroughly wondrous third successive World Cup triumph, the predictable SMS's of dejection and doom began doing the rounds. "These Aussies are invincible", went the more obvious ones, but there were some gems around too, like "Australia should be given a wild card entry into the final for all future World Cups so that we'll have to watch only one miserable Australia match" or "They should rename the World Cup the 'Australian Open' or the 'Aussie Invitation Trophy'". I quite like the idea of giving a different name to the World Cup. But I suppose the ICC might not be be too keen on giving up the the uneasy prefix 'ICC' attached to the name. Honestly though, the prefix actually sounds quite embarrassing now, after the utterly disgraceful mess that the officials somehow managed to create at the end and the torpid yet autocratic organisation of the tournament in general. I don't think there can be any worse indignity for the ICC than some people labeling this the worst World Cup ever. But we'll get to that later.

The final in itself was yet another damning indictment of the very wide gulf between Australia and the rest of the cricketing nations. Sri Lanka are no pushovers; their bowling attack is actually better than Australia's, and they've got some fantastic firepower in their batting. But their greatest strength is the wonderful sense of camaraderie and enthusiasm amongst the team that has been largely attributed to Mahela Jayawardane's astute leadership. All of this was, however, brought to a dismal naught by Adam Gilchrist's truly fearsome knock. There have been calls for his head by some former Australian cricketers considering his rather poor form in the last 6 months, but the fact remains that a Gilchrist on the rampage is far more worrying for an opposition captain than anything that Matthew Hayden or Ricky Ponting can come up with. This may sound sacrilegious to some, but I do believe that after Shane Warne, Gilchrist has been the most special payer of this utterly dominating Australian team. And history will remember him so too; if he retires now, I scarcely think any farewell by any cricketer can top what Gilchrist managed yesterday.

The Sri Lankans did, of course, keep interest alive in the match fairly long; Jayasuriya was at his slashing best, and Sangakkara kept unfurling shots of the most delectable order, almost as though he was hell-bent on winning the unwinnable battle of the wicket-keeper batsmen. Glory for Sri Lanka was not to be though, thanks to some steady Aussie bowling and the permutations of the very confusing and at times very unfair Duckworth-Lewis system. At the end of 33 overs, the Sri Lankans found themselves at 206 for 7, needing another 63 runs to win off 18 balls. A done and dusted game, surely. There was also the small matter of the ground being in near pitch darkness because of the heavy cloud cover. So the umpires offered the light to the batsmen, and the Sri Lankans took off, which was not altogether surprising given that Shaun Tait was lurking around the corner. And this was the beginning of the most embarrassing farce ever witnessed in a match of such significance. The Australian players dissolved in ecstatic celebrations, the scorecard flashed out 'Congrats Australia!', the ground staff began preparations for assembling the presentation stand, the Aussie fans embarked on their typically rumbustious rejoicing, and then Aleem Dar decided to have a bit of fun with the rule-book, going up to a delirious Ponting to inform him, quite like a stern parent would admonish a misbehaving child, that the match was not over yet! Dar then proceeded to shoo off the staff making preparations for the presentation, ordered Glenn McGrath to put the stump that he had yanked out in jubilation back in its place and decided, after talks with the two captains, to resume play on the agreement that Australia would only employ slow bowlers. The looks on the faces of the Australian players said it all. So back came Lasith Malinga and Chaminda Vaas to take guard against Michael Clarke, and everyone who was watching was quite sure that Aleem Dar, and perhaps even Steve Bucknor and Rudi Koertzen had lost their minds. Apparently, the umpires were convinced that the Lankan tailenders facing 3 overs of gentle spin bowling in a hopelessly lost cause would bring thrills of the most electrifying kind imaginable to the millions of viewers. Either that, or they really did forget the rule that a match could be ended by the Duckworth-Lewis system once the minimum 20 overs a side had been bowled, and that there was absolutely no need to resume the match the next day to play out the 3 overs. The match referee, at any rate, wants us to believe that it was a simple matter of poor memory that caused such an indescribably horrendous farce. Mark Nichols, the TV commentator, went nearly apoplectic with rage and outrage at the remarkably deranged behaviour of the officials. He wasn't the only one.

So was this the worst World Cup ever? The tragic murder of the Pakistani coach Bob Woolmer bang in the middle of the tournament certainly makes a very strong case for that kind of statement. Then, of course, the sheer number of one-sided games right till the very end of the tournament tilts the balance even further. The security was inadequate, the attendance at the grounds poor, and even nature was not on the tournament's side, with many games being affected by rain. Captains complained thunderously about the poor training facilities in the Caribbean, and the crowds complained about nearly everything, right from the high ticket prices to the ICC's ridiculous restrictions on the weapons of mass destruction that are musical instruments, and the shockingly dangerous Mexican wave. Moreover, there was never really any competitive tension in the tournament, what with Australia reducing everything that came in their way to pitiable dust.The rest of the teams, left to merely squabble amongst themselves like a pack of hyenas and identify the team least likely to be humiliated by Australia, often employed petty tactics like deliberately 'resting' their premier players against Australia in the hope that their confidence wouldn't be shattered by the walloping they were sure to receive at the hands of Ponting & Co, which only resulted in even more one-sided matches. Phew, the list of negatives doesn't seem to end.

Sure, there were a few unforgettable moments to savour. Lasith Malinga's 4-wickets-in-4-balls burst was a truly magnificent spectacle, as was Herschelle Gibbs's astonishing 6-sixes-in-an-over butchery. Inzamam-ul-Haq bid a tearful farewell to the one-day game after Pakistan's rather humiliating early exit, and Glenn McGrath finished his international cricket career like only an Australian cricketer can, with jaw-dropping success, clutching the Player of the Tournament award and surrounded by euphoric teammates. But perhaps the most enduring and endearing moment of the World Cup will remain Brian Lara's farewell lap around the Kensington Oval ground at the end of his last international match followed by a sensationally regal retirement speech, coming at the heels of yet another inglorious performance by his team. There was never anything even remotely inglorious about Lara though, and he made sure that his end will remain forever etched vividly in every cricket follower's mind with a single line, "Did I entertain?". There are many who will testify that they never saw a more passionate response given to a cricketer than the rousing reply given to Lara's query, but there are also some who will admit that they couldn't stop the tears at a moment so poignant and evocative. Lara was special, right till the end.

After analyzing all the pros and cons, I'll have to agree - this was the worst World Cup ever. The ICC should have mass sackings for the excruciatingly long debacle that they thrust upon the cricketing world. Well, as long as I'm wishing for impossible things, I may as well wish for Lara to come out of retirement. Or for Sourav Ganguly to go into retirement. Or for Kevin Pietersen to go back to South Africa where his talents will find much more support than in the woeful team that is England. Or for Sony Max never to telecast any cricket match again. Ok, I'll stop now.

Red Alert! Close Matches in Danger of Extinction!

Graeme Smith has got plenty of explaining to do. For the past one year or so, he's talked about his team's 'strength of character', he's talked about the new brand of cricket adopted by his team which is both 'brave' and effective, and he's talked about how his team ruthlessly 'demolished' their chokers' tag. He's pretty much exhausted the supply of English words in trying to showcase the supposedly gritty and combative nature of his team, which we all expected would find dazzling expression in the semi-final against Australia. We expected a close match; heck, we deserved a close match. If only someone had told that to Ponting and his men. One look at the steely stares on the faces of nearly all the Aussies as they took to the field was enough to remind us that the phrase 'close match' doesn't figure in the mindset of any Australian cricketer at the moment, not even remotely. What followed was 40 overs of the most cruel and demoralizing walloping imaginable, even if the scorecard doesn't say so. Graeme Smith owes us a semi-final. Perhaps he should spend less time with a dictionary and more with a trainer, preferably a therapist, because this South African team needs help.

People have found it hard to come up with new adjectives to describe the mind-numbing dominance of Australia thus far in the World Cup. Australia haven't just beaten all of their opponents on their merry way to a fourth consecutive World Cup final appearance; they've totally, mercilessly and brutally pulverized them. Some people have criticized the 'run for cover' tactics of Stephen Fleming and Mahela Jayawardane in shielding their best weapons, Shane Bond for New Zealand, and Muttiah Muralitharan, Chaminda Vaas and Lasith Malinga for Sri Lanka, in their respective matches against the Aussies. But in all fairness to these two fine gentlemen, they had to think of something to pull a fast one on the rampaging juggernaut that is the Australian team, hadn't they? It's another matter that these questionable but potentially-effective tactics resulted in two crushing defeats for the innovative captains. Perhaps they were expecting to be pummeled in any case. Ponting would whole-heartedly endorse the latter view, and with a broad, supercilious smile to boot.

Australia are currently on a 21-match winning streak in World Cups that stretches back to that glorious semi-final (ah! the days!) against South Africa 8 years ago. Erm, why haven't the rest of the teams died of shame yet? Three batsmen of Australia have scored over 400 runs this tournament; two of them have scored above 500. Three of their bowlers have taken more than 20 wickets, which is a stunning statistic no matter how you look at it. They've piled up more than 300 in every match that they've batted first, and bowled out the opposition inside 50 overs in all matches save for the one against Bangladesh which was a 22-over game. Every single thing that Ponting has touched in the last 6 weeks has turned to gold - when Symonds was inured, Brad Hodge filled his shoes and smashed a blistering century against Holland; when Symonds returned he promptly made a brutal half-century against England. The reserve bowlers - Mitchell Johnson and Stuart Clark, haven't warranted even a side-ways glance, so good have been the frontline ones. When Glenn McGrath has opened the bowling, he's routinely snaffled a bunch of bemused opposition batsmen before you could say 'accuracy' or even 'retirement'; when he's bowled first change, he's twice picked up a wicket in his first over. Mike Hussey, that ridiculously prolific batsman-machine, hasn't had to arrive at the crease before the 30th over in a single match, which renders his modest numbers so far almost completely insignificant. Has there ever been a more imperious performance by any team in any tournament ever? Honestly, if Australia go on to lose the final, it will probably be the greatest injustice in the history of the sport.

Mahela Jayawardane and his band of infectiously enthusiastic men will, however, have other ideas. Everyone who saw Jayawardane's innings of 115 against the Kiwis has raved and ranted about the incredible polish and awesome effectiveness of his batting. He's an extraordinary leader, that man, and it may just be possible for him to dig out some massive reserves of pluck and spur his talented team to come up with a truly special performance and upstage the Aussies. For that to happen, however, a certain Muttiah Muralitharan will have to be at his magical best, spinning out outrageous offbreaks and bewildering doosras in generous doses. And of course, the rest of the team will have to push the boundaries of their endurance and stamina to the very farthest, and put on a show both heroic and epic in equal measure. Or, they can just hope for Australia to have a stunningly horrible day. The frightening thing is that even if all these fascinating things happen, Australia may still emerge winners. Talk about depressing odds.

The Man Who Could Make Time Stand Still

When you hear deeply agitated fans whine about Kevin Pietersen’s lack of ‘sportsmanship’ in throwing down the stumps to bring the career of Brian Charles Lara to a premature, run-out induced end or express disgust at Pietersen's ridiculously long-drawn celebration at Lara's fall, you know you're talking about a man truly remarkable. And I’m not talking about Pietersen. That Lara's last innings had to end in a run-out was, in many ways, a perfectly symbolic climax to a quite special journey. For one thing, the fact that no bowler could get him out in his last innings reaffirmed Lara's complete and utter dominance over the best bowlers in the business through the years. For another, his teammate Marlon Samuels's very questionable call for a run which clearly didn’t exist was a painful reminder of the lack of support Lara has received from his compatriots throughout his career. And, perhaps most poignantly of all, Lara's controversial dismissal gave the millions of viewers something to talk about, awakening us quite emphatically to the simple truth that all that Lara really stood for during his entire career was entertaining the masses.

I must admit that I didn't quite think of all these things the moment that Lara got out. Right then, all I could think of was how truly horrid a person Marlon Samuels was. The fact that run-outs like the one to have struck Lara today are quite commonplace in cricket or that Lara himself may have been responsible for many a teammate's demise through bad calling didn't quite register in my mind. Nothing else mattered then, except that Lara was out, never to return to hold a bat again. The packed stands gave him a resounding ovation as he departed, but Lara was clearly furious at not being able to produce one more of his magical knocks in his final match. This was hardly a surprise, considering his amazing ability to rise to the special and most significant occasions, an ability that he’s demonstrated with astonishing ease so often in his career.

To say that Lara made batting look beautiful would be saying the obvious, and the oft-repeated. The thing that has always struck me as odd about Lara is that when off the field, his body movements seem a little uncoordinated and disorganized. Even his stance is a little peculiar, a little crooked, with the feet much too close together. It's almost as if his body was made for the cricket field, because the same disorganized frame suddenly acquired a grace that was almost balletic when he held a bat. This may have been repeated a million times before, but Lara's strokeplay was indeed absolute eye-candy - the elegance that he brought to a simple cover drive or the poetic artistry of his movements when he came down the track to the spinners was, there's no other word for it - breathtaking. Even his leaving of the ball was lyrical, as were his defensive blocks - batting looked more like exalted dance than a humdrum matter of scoring runs when he was at the crease. And yet, the power and momentum that he packed into most of his shots would have made Mohammad Ali proud; perhaps this had something to do with that extravagant backlift or the whiplash motion of his wrists, because Lara was anything but raw muscle while batting. No, raw muscle was for mere mortals, not for the colossus that was Brian Lara.

There have been many who have pointed out that Lara was nowhere close to a flawless genius. His mood swings, lack of discipline, arrogance, disdain for rules, and most importantly, rather poor captaincy skills have invited as much scathing criticism as his batting skills have earned awed praise. But what his detractors don't get is that when gifts as extraordinary as Lara has been blessed with find expression in such rapid and spectacular manner as two monumental, record-breaking innings of 375 and 501 mere weeks apart, and that too just 3 years into his young career, it becomes almost impossible to lead an uneventful life. Lara couldn't possibly have discarded his innate flamboyance and penchant for the impossibly glorious in exchange for a disciplined, run-machine career. And he didn't. But we must only be thankful for that, because I scarcely think any cricketer, with the possible exceptions of Shane Warne and Viv Richards, has inspired as passionate a fan following that cut across lines of culture and country as has Lara, which had as much to do with his logic-defying ability to win matches single-handedly as his refusal to conform to norms and follow the straight path. His indescribably brilliant innings of 153 against Australia at Barbados may be remembered for many centuries to come, but so will his child-like knock against Kenya in the 1996 World Cup that prompted calls for his head from many. It takes the good, the bad and the ugly to make a legend, and Lara made sure his mesmerized audience witnessed it all. His incredibly inadequate leadership skills perhaps diluted some of the joy that cricket followers all over the world, and particularly in the Caribbean, derived from his career, but genius must be granted its excesses. Besides, there are some who believe that the reason Lara failed so abysmally in arresting the decline in West Indian cricket through any semblance of inspired leadership is that he could never quite come to terms with the less prodigious abilities of his teammates. A classic case of extraordinary talent being surrounded, even overawed by mediocrity, something which could never really have been experienced by the great captains of history, the Clive Lloyds and the Steve Waughs. Raw, untamed, unfettered genius like Lara's comes only once in a century, but such remarkable flair doesn’t always translate into great team-management prowess, especially if the team you’re asked to manage is abysmally insipid. Ask Sachin Tendulkar.

At the end of the match, some of the English fans in the stands began to shed tears. No, England didn’t lose the match – they actually won by 1 wicket, but this day, all emotions were for Lara. Time seemed to stand still, as it did so often when he was batting, as he walked around the ground, waving to the spectators, shaking hands with the English players, wiping a stray tear or two off his cheek. His grief seemed a little incongruous at such a momentous occasion, but after a moment or two of reflection you realize that it was only appropriate. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that it is Lara who has been defined by the game of cricket, and not the other way round, and that it must have been terribly hard for him to let go of the one thing that roused his passion and emboldened and inflamed him to attain heights dizzying, dazzling, delirious. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that it was not cricket that lived for Lara, but Lara who lived for cricket.

They say that Lara’s most outstanding achievement remains, to this day, his reclaiming of the record for the highest Test score in an innings, exactly ten years to the day he first created it, on the same ground and against the very same opposition. Indeed, this is one feat so awe-inspiring that it is difficult to imagine anyone doing anything to even come close to matching it, ever. In fact, when Matthew Hayden had held the record for a brief while, I remember thinking how frightfully dramatic it would be if Lara were to regain the record, and then brushing the thought off as impossible, even for Lara. I need hardly mention how completely stunned I was when Lara actually went out and shattered the record only six months after Hayden’s feat, with all the poise of an indefatigable champion. And yet, statistics and great cricketing moments mean so little when you talk about someone like Lara. He is one sportsperson who has truly transcended his records and emerged as a legend so full of mystique and wonderment that it is beyond the realms of any kind of numbers. He is the man who, when in the mood, could do anything. And I mean anything. He may have been nicknamed ‘Prince’, but he was more majestic, more glorious, more splendid, more sublime and more imposing than any emperor could ever hope to be.

Batting Elegance: Soon to be a Lost Art?

When the brilliant fade away, the mediocrity of mortals begins to look distasteful. The Super 8 match between the West Indies and South Africa was, perhaps, a lesson in the importance of discipline and efficiency in modern one-day cricket, but it was also a bleak reminder of how much poorer the game will be when the current vogue of robust ball-thwacking inevitably pushes the virtuosity of the artists into the sidelines. Or one particular artist, to be more precise. We all knew that Brian Lara was going to retire from the one-day game after the World Cup - everyone was sad about that; but to see him confirm it with such pitiable defeat written all over his face was positively depressing. The most painful thing about the entire episode was not the fact that Lara's team got more insipid as the tournament progressed or that the captaincy skills of Lara himself suddenly and alarmingly reached rock-bottom; what was most sad was that cricket, at least one-day cricket, is on its way to saying goodbye to one of its most celebrated maestros ever with so little grace.

I'm not talking here, of course, of any lack of respect on the part of any cricketing figure towards Lara; the people all around have been most courteous and deferential, and rightly so. What I'm talking about is the manner in which physicality and brutal strokeplay are rapidly taking over the game. South Africa's explosion towards the end of the match may have had quite a lot to do with Lara's potentially-legendary (and not in the right way) decision to delay the third Powerplay till the 45th over, but it was the ruthless savagery of Mark Boucher and Herschelle Gibbs that effectively ended the game as a contest. And this has been the trend for quite some time now - Australia-South Africa matches are the best examples of the new cricketing dogma that power is joy, and even New Zealand have been turning to this unpleasant mantra through its McCullums and Orams. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those stuck-up purists who would rather see a batsman play out ten consecutive maidens with 'grit and patience' than hit a series of spectacular sixes. But I do believe that tearing into bowlers without the least hint of subtlety or elegance is more than a little disturbing, if not annoying. And sadly, with the exit of Lara, and the imminent retirement of Sachin Tendulkar, there won't be too many in the cricketing world to stand up to the unrelenting wave of ugly but effective ball-pounding that is threatening to turn cricket into a slower version of baseball.

Coming back to Lara, it's amazing how so many people brush off his one-day career as 'average' or 'nothing splendid' just because he's played very few games and scored no centuries in the last two and a half years. Most people tend to forget that Lara had semi-retired from the one-dayers two years ago and only returned as a regular member of the team when he was made captain. Before his hiatus, he had been as thoroughly proficient a one-day player as any, and certainly a lot more destructive in his approach and style of play than he is now. And his stats up to the year 2004 will happily confirm that. However, ever since he's entered his third stint as captain, he's largely tried to stay away from the spotlight and give his lesser-known colleagues the chance to become match-winners of their own, albeit with incredibly poor results. That the likes of Chris Gayle, Ramnaresh Sarwan, Shivnarine Chanderpaul and most infuriatingly of all, Marlon Samuels, have been unable to respond to Lara's pushes and prods (I'd perhaps leave Gayle out of this list - he was, after all, the Man of the Series in the Champions Trophy), is an apt reflection of Lara's entire cricketing life, both in Tests and one-dayers. He's never really had anyone to support, or even comprehend, his immense genius, and he has an astonishing tally of heartbreaking losses to show for that. Whether he would have been the greatest batsman of the post-Bradman era if it hadn't been for the remarkable incompetence of his teammates is perhaps too futile an argument. However, the fact that he has, in spite of the ruins around him, managed to carve out his own glittering place among the pantheons of cricketing greats is testimony to his incandescent brilliance. And besides, there's one thing that no one can ever take away from Lara - when he was on song, there wasn't a single batsman in the very long history of cricket who could match the sheer splendour of his strokeplay. Which is saying quite something.

Anyway, I think I should go back to watching the Australia-Ireland match. It's turning out to be quite ridiculously one-sided. I love supporting the Australians - it feels so much better to be rooting for guys like them instead of the appallingly pathetic West Indian team (save for Lara, of course). Ah, the Australian innings is just about to get underway, which means there'll be plenty of monstrous ball-thwacking from Hayden and Co. We'll miss you, Brian Charles Lara.

The Chastening of Chappell and other Cricketing Crises

So, Indian cricket is in serious turmoil after after a particularly appalling performance from its too-old-to-train team. The deluge of demands for mass sackings simply refuses to stop, and the bosses up at the BCCI seem completely cowed down by the frenetic outrage in all parts of the country. Familiar story? Well, not quite. For starters, the Indian team hasn't performed so poorly in a World Cup for, as has been well-documented, 28 years. This is actually quite unknown territory for the average tempestuous Indian cricket fan. More importantly however, there's the inescapable fact that Pakistan have been bounced out of the tournament in just as humiliating a manner as India (well, perhaps just a little more humiliating), they have had to deal with the added trauma of a murdered coach, and yet, the situation in Pakistan can hardly be described as anything close to tumultuous or outraged. The Pakistani players have taken the humiliation of defeat and the tragedy of death in their grieving yet composed strides, the fans let out only minor jeers at the arrival of their disgraced heroes, the Board has quietly gone ahead and appointed Younis Khan as the new captain, and all is calm and quiet, at least for now. Considering Pakistan's famed volatility, that's saying something. Frankly, in normal times, if the two loving neighbors were faced with such eerily similar situations, one would expect the uproar in Pakistan to completely overshadow any hint of commotion in India. Disturbingly, that isn't happening right now. So this distasteful episode may be a lot of things, but familiar it is not.

As every single Indian knows by now of course, Greg Chappell has resigned from the coaching job. I can't really say I'm surprised by that, but it is perhaps significant that Chappell chose to make this announcement just a day after being called a host of unsavory things by the much-derided 'seniors' of the team. 'Seniors' actually may be a misleading term here, because the only person from whom most comments seemed to have come is Sachin Tendulkar. And that is really shocking, knowing as we do how dignified and graceful Tendulkar normally is with such things. Quite frankly, most of Sachin's 'exclusive' comments to a certain newspaper made him look like an overgrown spoilt child. Chappell hadn't even named Tendulkar in his dreaded list of 'uncooperative seniors', for crying out loud. One would've expected Tendulkar to show some restraint and not be reduced to wailing about his 'commitment', 'heart', 'soul' and plenty of other dramatic qualities in reaction to a few unconfirmed rumors. And coming as this does on the heels of some very unflattering calls for retirement, Sachin's timing couldn't have been more wrong. So was Chappell's resignation hastened by Sachin's outburst? No one really knows right now (except for Chappell himself, of course), and I suspect no one will really ever know, unless Chappell decides to write an autobiography some time soon. And boy, will that be a bestseller!

To make matters even worse for the BCCI, if that were even possible, Subhash Chandra, head of Zee group, decided to have a bout of Kerry Packer-ism, and announce quite theatrically to a disbelieving media that he plans to start a parallel 'cricket league' to rival the BCCI's monopoly over cricket in India. He also declared that there'd be some Indian internationals who would be a part of this rebel league, spawning a string of excited theories about the identity of the suicidal cricketers. As things stand right now, it seems extremely unlikely that Mr. Chandra will succeed in his adventurous plans, what with all the legal troubles and the BCCI's stranglehold on everything remotely related to cricket, but the BCCI could definitely have done without this particular head sore. And I, for one, am not complaining about that. In fact, I hope hordes of rampant businessmen come out with similarly ambitious plans and force the BCCI to burn all of its funds in legally stamping out such unwanted fires. That'd serve the sorry bunch of scumbags at the BCCI right, that would.

While all of this brouhaha has been brewing, the World Cup has been chugging along serenely without its money-spinning Asian members. Australia, as usual, look set to bully their way to a third consecutive title, while New Zealand, Sri Lanka and South Africa have been notching up impressive wins in their shadow. The performances of my favorites, the West Indies, however, have been singularly disappointing, not least because Brian Lara is being unfairly made the scapegoat for all the inadequacies of his insipid team. Clearly, as I keep saying, the Caribbean doesn't deserve Lara. On a more positive note, however, England seem to be marching towards a surprise victory over Sri Lanka as I write, and that can only brighten the extremely slim chances of the West Indies reaching the semis. Hope, prayers and good performances - that's all that the Windies need to go through now. Yeah, I know, I should stop being such a hopeless optimist.

Machine and Magician

First things first - the tennis world has just been witness to a shock of the most ridiculous order. Roger Federer, that man/machine who has been known to make the Roddicks and Hewitts of this world look like dazed amateurs, has been defeated, twice in succession, by somebody called Guillermo Canas. No, I did not just make up that name - Canas is actually a tennis player, a reasonably proficient one, in fact, and has been in the news recently in connection with a doping scandal. Now, however, he's got a unique, possibly never to be repeated distinction - that of having beaten Federer in two consecutive matches that were NOT tournament finals, and that too in the scary era of Total Federer Domination. I guess Federer has simply got tired of winning - and I also strongly suspect that he doesn't want Rafael Nadal to be spoken of as the only player who has a statistical advantage over him. Maestros have all kinds of quirks about them - don't ask me to give a reasonable explanation for Federer's bizarre behavior. Let's just rejoice, instead, at the prospect of a second consecutive Masters tournament in which the likely champion's name is not something that you can give mechanically if asked to in the middle of your deepest slumber.

Moving on to less shocking things, West Indies went down to Australia in the first game of the Super Eights that was spread over two days because of unfortunate weather. And for what seemed like the millionth time, Brian Lara was the only top order batsman who showed any kind of resistance to the ruthless Aussies. His innings today was typically sublime - under immense pressure, having to undo plenty of the damage inflicted by his startlingly lethargic teammates, he rose to the challenge as magnificently as only he can, standing tall amongst the miserable ruins. Sigh! If only he'd been blessed with a marginally better team, we'd have been privileged witnesses, for the last 16 years, to the unadulterated wizardry of possibly the most talented batsman to have ever walked this earth. Instead, we've been saddled with a contradictory, disturbed genius, who's probably never known what it feels like to score a scintillating double century in a match AND win the match. Greatest tragedy of our cricketing time? Without the slightest doubt.

Tragedy and Then Some More Tragedy

I don't know about you, but the fact that the last week has been such a harrowing time for the ICC has certainly made me splendidly delighted. Those arrogantly untouchable bullies desperately needed to be brought down by more than a peg or two, and happily, the first round of the World Cup has just about been their worst nightmare. The one face-saving move that they could have made, which they promptly did make, was to stoically insist that things haven't yet gotten so disastrous that a cancellation of the tournament altogether was warranted. Yes, I would've almost started hopping around in uncontrolled glee at this chastening fall from grace of the ICC snobs if the extremely tragic death of Pakistan's coach Bob Woolmer hadn't been the cause of it all.

There have been very diverse reactions to the unfortunate demise of the pioneer of 'laptop cricket' - some furious, some grief stricken, but almost all horribly shocked. And the conspiracy theories began to fly around before anyone could even register the cause of the death. As of now, things stand at a poignantly murky position: it has been well and truly established that Woolmer was in fact murdered; former Pakistan players have come out with allegations that the crime was a well-plotted result of the enigmatic connections between the ICC, Pakistan cricket and bookmakers; and the Jamaican police have managed to drum up a flurry of suspicious whispers by announcing that only 'diplomatic problems' prevented them from detaining the Pakistan team in Jamaica in connection with the investigations. Just how many dreadful rumors such embarrassingly ill-advised statements are going to provoke is anybody's guess, but the stories have already started to border on the supremely ridiculous. One thing's for sure: things have now gone so bad that the terrible cliche "cricket is a gentleman's game" is never even going to cross anyone's mind in the future.

No matter how tragic Woolmer's death may have been though, the Indian cricket fan was struck by insufferable misery only after Bangladesh's not-entirely-unexpected victory over Bermuda. A lot has been said abut how fickle sub-continental fans are, which is why the seemingly never-ending stretch of bitter brickbats and, rather regrettably, some choice abuses and profanities shouldn't be wholly surprising. Along with painful disappointment, however, there has also been a sense of disbelief and incredulity about the Great Calamity among the fans. The Indian team does NOT crash out of the World Cup in the first round: that just doesn't happen. It hasn't happened in the discernible memory of anyone, at any rate - 1979 was many many years ago. For me, certainly, things do seem a bit surreal right now; I can't even begin to imagine a World Cup without India's presence for such a large chunk of the tournament. Ah well, I guess I'll just be brought back to happy reality by some strong performances by my favorites Australia and the West Indies. It feels so good to support reliable teams (Australia are, anyway). Meanwhile, we should brace ourselves for some heavy-duty slashing and chopping in the Indian team - and judging by the comments that have been morosely exchanged all over the country, there's going to be a lot of cheering at the merciless dumpings. Let's just hope there are no tears shed. Of sorrow OR joy.

Getting back to the actual cricket action, I've got to say that the Australia-South Africa match was one cracker of a match, even if it was a bit too nerve-wracking for the first half of South Africa's chase. These two teams are clearly streets ahead of the rest of the pack, and if South Africa don't manage to reach the finals this time either, as I'm predicting they won't, there'll only be yet another legend added to the 'Mysteries of South African Falling-Apart-at-Crunch-Times' collection. Maybe this is the tournament in which we'll finally know for sure just how much of Graeme Smith's aggression and apparent gumption is real and how much of it is merely pretentious/pathetic-counter-to-Aussie-arrogance. Brian Lara's West Indies, on the other hand, seem unsure as to exactly how much confidence and aggression they should be putting on display, which has resulted in three consecutive victories in the 'Group of Death' which have alternated between the furiously brilliant and the disinterestedly lacklustre. But the two teams that deserve our admiration most of all are Bangladesh and Ireland, who have ruthlessly sent the two Asian heavyweights India and Pakistan packing from the tournament. Objectively speaking, the rise of these two teams was the best thing that could have happened to the Cup, sparking, for the umpteenth time, bemused mutterings of the disgusting cliche (cricket does seem to have a lot of these, doesn't it?) 'cricket is a game of glorious uncertainties'. Seriously, if at all the ICC guys want to make themselves remotely useful, they'd do well to revamp the cricketing lexicon, it's getting more ignoble by the day.

The Million Dollar Minnow Matter

How infectious is cricket fever? Infectious enough to want to skip work and watch TV all day, if you ask me. And it's a different matter altogether that my work timings and the Caribbean match timings don't really clash. Ah well, did humankind ever need a reason to want to stay home from work? It's the same sad story with everyone - the early morning 'waking up' dread, the mid-morning dejection from looking at the perfectly useless but positively humongous pile of work, the afternoon frustration at realizing that yet another bunch of six hours has gone down the filthiest of drains and the evening exhaustion from, well, all the other negative thoughts that flitted through your mind all day. It's a vicious, vicious cycle.

Alright, enough of such depressing talk. Let's focus, instead, on the main subject of my post. The one word that has been on everyone's lips these first few days of the World Cup is 'minnow'. The first three days it was all about minnow-walloping and today it has been all 'minnow topples heavyweight' drama. I blame Ricky Ponting for starting this disturbing trend of social conversation. If he hadn't found the need to equate the minnows with some kind of annoying flies who do nothing but buzz and irritate, then we wouldn't have had the momentous discussions that followed about the advisability or otherwise of minnows playing in the World Cup. Barely had the disastrous comment escaped his colorful tongue than indignant minnow captains erupted out of nowhere claiming that they could 'spring a few surprises here and there' and cricket 'experts' began their drones about how the minnow matches prolong the World Cup beyond tolerance levels or conversely, how the unfortunate babes need all the big match practice they can get. Yawn. Somebody should put a gag order on the imaginative Mr. Ponting.

Moving on to more important things, South Africa's pummeling of the dazed Dutch yesterday had to be seen to be believed. Enough has been said about that over in which Herschelle Gibbs decided to check whether a bowler would break down in heartbroken sobs if forced to suffer too much violence, so I'll talk instead about the innocent-looking massacre inflicted by Mark Boucher and the composed ransacking antics of Jacques Kallis. I don't quite think I've ever been witness to a more sumptuous feast of runs. It felt like the boundaries would never stop - they kept getting bigger and bigger as the morale of the hapless Dutch bowlers kept getting smaller and smaller. That match, together with Australia's murderous assault on Scotland and Sri Lanka's clinical slaughter of Bermuda nearly vindicated Ponting's path-breaking statement, making him sound like an accomplished clairvoyant. Thankfully, however, today's events will have done enough to prevent Ponting's ever-present supercilious smile from widening further. That's because, as I write, Ireland seem to be on the verge of prompting full-scale riots in Pakistan, having dismissed them for a barely-believable score of 132. And Bangladesh seem to be on their way to inflicting some acute embarrassment on Dravid and Co., with India huffing and puffing mightily to reach a quite miserable score of 191. Bangladesh have been really robust in their reply so far, rattling away to 109 for 3 after 25 overs, and I sense that some really dark times are about to engulf the sub-continent. Don't be surprised if a few cricketers' homes are vandalised tomorrow. And Mr. Chappell, Mr. Woolmer, I think the pair of you should be packing your bags painfully soon.

Honestly though, these first few days have been really really entertaining. Barring the one languid game between the boringly efficient New Zealand and the woeful England (I guess they're back to their dark days), all the other matches have been real crackers, nasty shock or no nasty shock. I mean, come on - it was seriously good fun to watch the rampaging Gibbs clobber the poor Daan van Bunge with such remarkable disdain. And the Ireland-Zimbabwe tie, which literally turned out to be a tie, was fairly engrossing too. So things certainly are looking bright for this to end as the best World Cup ever. And that, in spite of all the garbage talk about minnows. I've always wondered though, why does everybody refer to the inexperienced teams as 'minnows'? Surely someone's got to have a better word to use? Any ideas, Mr. Ponting?

Time For Celebration

A boisterous din of trumpets and drums, an admirable assembly of cricketers - excellent and ordinary, retired and playing, and a flurry of hopeful, diplomatic statements. The start to this year's World Cup in the West Indies has been something of a study in contrasts; while the media has been drumming up a maniacal frenzy, the crowds in the Caribbean seem somewhat bemused by all the seriousness and sensationalism being attached to the Cup. And the players themselves have been all grace and dignity, with every captain talking up his team's chances while admitting, very generously, that all the other teams have equally strong chances of lifting the Cup. The ICC officials, meanwhile, have been lurking surreptitiously in the background, ensuring that the Cup is actually referred to as 'The ICC Cricket World Cup' and hoping that if anything goes wrong, they can distance themselves from the entire thing and blame everything on the West Indians. Sounds like a fun party, doesn't it?

The tournament has been marred somewhat by a few unsavory comments flying around the cricketing world like nervous dragonflies. The Ricky Ponting-Sunil Gavaskar altercation has already involved physical brawls and whacks on heads, and it's only a matter of time before these two gentlemen start pulling each other's hair while screaming frantically, "YOU started it!" Come on now, I can allow Ponting a few mischievous quotes here and there - he's young (at any rate, a lot younger than Mr. Gavaskar), at the peak of his batting powers, and he so perfectly embodies the arrogant, sweep-everything-before-you Aussie mentality. But I would've expected Gavaskar, a senior statesman and one of the most respected cricketers in India, to show a little more maturity and level-headedness. Pakistan, on the other hand, have had the audacity, yet again, to inflict embarrassment of a fairly injurious degree on the cricketing world and especially the ICC, by allowing Shoaib Akhtar and Mohammad Asif to get away without undergoing dope tests. And we thought Akhtar's career couldn't possibly get any more controversial. All is not well within the West Indian cricket community either, with former greats Viv Richards and Michael Holding continuing their noble battles with the 'corrupt' Caribbean cricket bureaucracy. Hopefully these sordid situations won't spill over and affect the organisation of the tournament, because that would really be tragic.

Thankfully, not everything is in disgraceful disarray, with Brian Lara in particular exuding wonderful warmth and composure and playing the part of the host skipper with remarkable poise. Among his many well-chosen comments, the one that brought much happiness to legions across the world was his statement that he will continue playing Test cricket for at least around 2-3 years more. So I guess we shouldn't hang our heads in despair just yet; maybe, just maybe, we'll get to witness some more gems of indescribable glory from his masterful blade. In the first match against Pakistan though, he wasn't quite at his disdainful best, but did his part anyway, partnering Marlon Samuels (who made a brilliant 63) in a 91-run stand that ultimately proved crucial to the match. Pakistan never really recovered from the onslaught by the West Indian batsmen in the last 5 overs, and even the vastly experienced Inzamam-ul-Haq and the prolific Mohammad Yousuf couldn't stop them from sliding to a potentially damaging 54-run defeat. Ponting, meanwhile, seems to have been properly fired up by Gavaskar's lavish comments, hammering his way, as I write, to a frenetic 113 against a quite unfortunate Scotland side as Australia racked up 334 runs in the first innings. And while Australia have been guilty of being rather daft at defending huge totals in the recent past, the chances of them not winning by at least 150 runs today are pretty slim, don't you think?

So another 48 matches and a month and a half of this magnificent spectacle to go. Predictions of the probable winners have been flying thick and fast all across the globe, but I'd still put my money on Australia coming up trumps. And I'd give the West Indies a fair chance too. And while I'm predicting things, I'll also predict that Brian Lara, Michael Clarke, Kevin Pietersen, Shaun Tait, Shane Bond and Dwayne Bravo will be the stars of this tournament. And oh, one more thing - something will go wrong with the organisation of the tournament at some stage; I don't really trust the carefree Caribbean crew to go through 45 days without bungling anything. So let's hope I don't end up with egg on my face at the end of the extravaganza. And let's also hope that it'll be a rollicking World Cup!

A Surprisingly Competitive World Cup?

I need some pills to counter my depression, and fast. Just days after I had so confidently declared in one of my posts that I did not expect Australia's shocking form slump to last more than a couple of games, I have the stickiest egg on my face with Australia having crashed to another humiliating defeat against New Zealand. What on earth is going on with these guys? I thought the second match, in which they failed to defend a colossal score of 336, was rock bottom. They couldn't possibly have done any worse from that point. But guess what, they've actually managed to do just that. A team cannot lose after putting up 346 runs on the board and then having the opposition reeling at 41/4. A team like Australia definitely cannot lose from that position. And it is simply unthinkable for a team like Australia to lose from such a bullish position just two days after having suffered the ignominy of failing to defend 336 and four days after a 10-wicket pasting. Yet, Australia have done the impossible. It's not the first time in the last 10 years that they've done that. The only difference is that this time, they've done the wrong kind of impossible. Where can I get some of those darned pills?

The slimmest of silver linings that has emerged from this travesty of a series is that the Australian cricketing heads now have a clear indication of which player to keep as far away from captaincy as George W. Bush is from intelligence. Mike Hussey may be an astonishingly effective batsman in both formats of the game, but he is a terrible, terrible captain. I'm almost certain that if Ricky Ponting had been in charge in the series, Australia would not have had to face so much embarrassment, and they definitely wouldn't have lost two consecutive games after having posted 330-plus scores. Okay, I know that it was actually Ponting who was at the helm in that bewildering 400-run Johannesburg game almost a year ago, but really, that match was a freak happening, a once-in-a-generation event that doesn't afflict an ordinary, fairly efficient captain too often. Let's face it, Hussey is remarkably daft as a skipper. There may be a chance that this swift judgment, taking into consideration only his woefully unflattering yet short record as captain, is a bit harsh on Hussey , but there's an even greater chance that the Aussie bosses will never entrust him with the role again. Which is why I believe that this particular stat of Hussey's striking cricketing career will probably remain forever horribly tainted.

So where do the Aussies go from here? The good news for them is that Ponting and Michael Clarke are almost certain to be fully fit for their opening World Cup match, and considering the rollicking time their relatively inexperienced replacements have been having in their absence, I think they've got the batting department fully covered. Their worry, and a very grave one at that, is the bowling. McGrath is finally showing signs of his age, Brett Lee has only a '50-50 chance' of being fit for the Cup, and Bracken has lost a fair bit of his zip from last year. Meanwhile, Mitchell Johnson and Shaun Tait almost seem to be drooling with excitement at the prospect of playing in an Australian side, and their performances have shown a correspondingly alarming dip. The spin department is almost non-existent, with Brad Hogg and Cameron White having emerged as just a shade better than part-time. And Shane Watson, I believe, should be kicked out of the team faster than you can say 'all-rounder'. The man is NOT an all-rounder - he can bat a bit and he can bowl a bit, but he scores way too few runs and gives away way too many to qualify as acceptable in either department. So basically, things don't look too good for defending targets. I guess Ponting's best bet is to field every time he wins the toss. He might even hope to be outrageously lucky and win the toss every match. I, for one, am fervently hoping that happens.

In all the joy, shock and despair (for me, at least) at Australia's downslide, people seem to have forgotten the Kiwis. The fact that they dared to rest Shane Bond and Daniel Vettori for the final match says a lot about their confidence right now. And the fact that they managed to win despite that says a lot about their ability and form. They may be colorless, they may be awfully boring, and they may not have a single star among their ranks (I don't think Bond qualifies as one - he plays far too seldom for that label) but they've got a lot of gumption, and ever so often, gumption is all that matters. So you never know, with India, South Africa and England peaking at just the right time, Pakistan being, as always, the unpredictable potential scene-stealers, Australia seeking to desperately salvage some of their battered ego, West Indies being the animated hosts and New Zealand on an intoxicated high, this might turn out to be a cracking World Cup, pathetic minnows and all. Throw in the fact that it is going to be the last one-day tournament for Brian Lara and the last World Cup for Sachin Tendulkar, and this might just end up as the best World Cup ever. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Lo And Behold, Australia Can Be Pathetic Too!

I've always thought there's a limit to how ridiculous things can get. Sure there can be a few moments of madness here and some perverted absurdity there, but before you know it, normalcy is restored and the world is at peace. If only this statement were true. If only we lived in a perfect world. I'm sorry, but I'm a bit shaken up by Australia's shocking loss to New Zealand today. A World Champion side does not rack up 336 belligerent runs and end up losing the match. And don't even get me started on the stupefying 10-wicket loss two days ago. Seriously, how ridiculous can things get?

Mike Hussey, that admirably gritty batsman-wonder who has been handed the captaincy in the absence of Ponting and Gilchrist suddenly finds himself in a Flintoff-like position of having to answer unanswerable questions about the less-than-feisty performances being put in by his players. Thank God he doesn't find the need to put on an about-to-break-into-miserable-sobs expression like Flintoff did for much of the past 3 months. But he's been no confident charmer either; it's not the easiest job in the world to explain away your team's woeful form, and Hussey is learning this the hard way. People might point out that five of Australia's seven key ODI players have been out of the side but there's been a telling lack of fight amongst the Australians in the last 3 games, and that's a worrying sign. In the past, Australia have always stuck doggedly to their much-maligned rotation policy and they've always managed to come up trumps in spite of missing key players. This time, however, they haven't even looked close to winning. So is this the beginning of the end of a glorious era or is it a simple matter of the players being exhausted, both physically and mentally, from the effort of giving England the pounding of a lifetime? Personally, I'd say the latter, particularly since we've been hearing the 'beginning of the end' cliche about this mighty Australian side for about 4 years now, without any noticeable vindication. But if Australia have to maintain their magnificent World Cup run they'll need Ponting, Gilchrist, Symonds, Lee and Clarke to be back in full fitness and form. Oh yes they will. The new No. 1 ODI side in the world, South Africa, will definitely not be trembling with fear at the prospect of facing an Australian side without any of these players.

It's funny how quirky fortune can get. Just as Australia are being besieged with freak injuries and poor form at the most horribly wrong time imaginable, India seem to be nearing peak form with a resounding series victory over Sri Lanka. Ganguly has emerged literally from the ashes like the proverbial phoenix and is once again the imposing one-day force that he was a couple of years ago. Dravid and Dhoni have regained their silken touch and brutally violent force respectively, and the bowlers, particularly Zaheer Khan and Ajit Agarkar, have started to dismantle opposition line-ups with something of a regularity. The most crucial boost to India's World Cup plans, however, has been the return to form of Yuvraj Singh, who is probably the most underrated ODI batsman in the world. A string of spectacularly bitter and disorienting losses in his absence has probably taught everyone just how important Yuvraj is to India's one-day plans, which is why his brilliant unbeaten 95 yesterday would have brought considerable joy to every Indian supporter. Probable world champions? I don't know about that yet, but things are certainly looking bright for a 'good World Cup', as Dravid unwisely put it a few days ago (surely any team would want to win the World Cup and not just have a good World Cup?).

And while we're talking of people being unwise, how far can we really be from the Pakistan cricket team? The latest 'thing' to hit Pakistan cricket (I guess all the problems that keep pounding Pakistani cricket can hardly be described as 'scandals' anymore; they're much too ordinary and commonplace for a word as scandalous as 'scandal') is Shoaib Akhtar's allegation that the coach Bob Woolmer abused him racially. I just don't get these guys - why on earth would a bunch of players and officials perpetually keep trying so hard to destroy the morale and spirit of the team? I guess that's one of the many mysteries of cricket - probably just as mysterious as Pakistan's reputation to overcome all of their demons and put in surprisingly brilliant performances on the field. It's a mysterious, mysterious game. Let's have a toast to that!

Surprise, Surprise. Or Shock, Shock.

Ho ho. What a great, big, enormous surprise. If England's win in the first of the best-of-three finals of the tri-series in Australia could have been brushed off as a freak happening, their resounding victory in the second final today was anything but freaky. They were the better side today, no two ways about that. Barely a day after I called the English ODI side a great many unflattering names, including pathetic and uninspiring, they've gone out and done the unthinkable. Beaten Australia in their own den, not just once or twice, but thrice in a row. I have to admit, I don't feel too good about my excessive and arrogant faith in the Australian team's ability now. Maybe the Aussies aren't really all that they're cranked up to be. Maybe Andrew Symonds is an indispensable part of the team. Maybe Mike Hussey isn't as prodigious as his statistics. Maybe Adam Gilchrist is a spent force. Or maybe, the England team aren't really a bunch of miserable pushovers. I'm sorry, but I'm just not up to a decisive analysis of the game today. It was shocking, that's all. Right from the persistence of the startling run of form of Paul Collingwood to the extraordinary amount of swing generated by Liam Plunkett and coming to a head with Jamie Dalrymple's sensational catch by to dismiss Shane Watson, the day was filled with shocks. Ah well, it was just one of those days.

India, meanwhile, made a terrible mess of what seemed a straightforward run chase against a spirited Sri Lankan side. I thought Mahendra Singh Dhoni was tailor-made for situations like the one his team found itself in today. I guess I was wrong. But the Sri Lankans were truly remarkable - Kumar Sangakkara's innings was a real gem, and some of the catches that the Lankans took would've done Jonty Rhodes proud. Pakistan, on the other hand, finally got a taste of what India had to suffer on their tour to South Africa, being presented with a difficult pitch and penetrative South African bowling. And to nobody's surprise, being the sub-continent team that they are, Pakistan surrendered as meekly as a bunch of frightened rabbits being forced to have dinner with a pack of wolves.

Karan Johar's Koffee with Karan began its second second season today, and his guests were, predictably, Shahrukh Khan, Kajol and Rani Mukherjee. I must say, I've gotten kinda tired of seeing these four talk about each other. The first half of the show was pretty dull, what with Shahrukh Khan's supposedly intellectual pearls of wisdom about everything from professional rivalry to the invasion of stars' privacy by the media being perfectly matched in drabness by Rani Mukherjee's political correctness and somewhat-lost expressions. It was only the now-legendary rapid-fire round and Kajol's overdone effervescence that kept the show alive. Frankly, I think Mr. Johar needs more than a change in the furniture and the colors of the sets to maintain the popularity of the show. Perhaps some interesting guests?

You know who'd make a great guest on Koffee with Karan? Andrew Flintoff, that's who. I just want to know whether he's capable of having any expression on his face other than those of delirious joy and tearful dejection. He always seems to be in one of these two moods, and today, sadly, it was delirious joy. How depressing.