Rant 103: Let's all take a step back on Jose Mourinho

It could be the biggest signing Manchester United ever make for the new season. It could be the worst. I'm not here to lay down stats, or argue about formations, or debate where Wayne Rooney should play under Jose Mourinho.
But a feeling in me says I cannot automatically tag trophies onto Manchester United just because we have Mourinho at the helm. Sure, Mourinho's track record is brilliant - well, that is if you don't count his last season with Chelsea, who were in relegation danger no less.
Mourinho is a big club man through and through. I can't ever see him doing a Rafa Benitez and taking on a Newcastle-esque challenge. Mourinho moves to a big club and makes them bigger, of that I have no doubt. But the clubs he has been at have always had to reconcile their own style and personality with the professional ego that Mourinho employs. It is an ego that has served Mourinho well, but has also caused conflict.

Louis van Gaal, after United's defeat to Boro

Examples?
His first spell at Chelsea - won titles, but rumours of player unrest, player power in the dressing room, battles with the owner
Inter Milan - again, titles won but more player unrest, including with a certain Samuel Eto'o
Real Madrid - good times, but further battles with players, eventually leaving on a sour note
Second spell at Chelsea - well, you can probably see where this is heading. Although to some credit, it wasn't so much player unrest as much as Chelsea's bad performances that led to his eventual exit. However, not sure how much the controversy over Eva Carneiro helped.

Don't get me wrong. I have every reason to believe we at Manchester United will win games under Mourinho. He gets the results. Whether or not we will suddenly remember to play with style and flair is a doubt. Louis van Gaal's tactics left me bored, but I liked the man. He knew he was in a tough environment and he fought back. He also knew what the limitations were. I remember being in the press conference after United lost to Middlesbrough in the League Cup in late 2015. Van Gaal walked in, sat down and was asked his first question. His response began with a heavy sigh. Here was a man trying to employ his style, but which didn't quite work. To his immense credit, he left with FA Cup glory, and with the legacy of bringing several youngsters into the first-team fold. Also, don't forget he signed Anthony Martial not for himself but for "the next manager" - read story here . So if Martial continues to fire, Mourinho will probably be saying several silent "thank yous".

But coming back to Mourinho the personality. Indeed, the best word is perhaps 'character'. For that is what he is, and in all honesty that is what the Premier League needs, more characters. They liven up the game, they bring their own views and opinions to the fore, and they provide their own form of entertainment. Sometimes, that can go horribly wrong, as Mourinho has proven with a few PR mistakes from last season - Carneiro controversy being one of them. I could feel the Chelsea fans cringing - possibly - every time you heard of a fresh incident/controversy/PR nightmare involving Mourinho. Backed up by some disappointing results, it was not a good reflection on the club.

Characters are important for a club like United

Character is good for a club like Manchester United, who have always employed an amazing cocktail of style and substance. Think Sir Alex Ferguson, think George Best, David Beckham, Cristiano Ronaldo,
It's whether the character that Jose Mourinho brings is a good fit for Manchester United. Mourinho described United as a 'monster club'. Mourinho himself is a 'monster' of a manager based on his track record. Who consumes who will be a good question to answer.

Rant 101: Plane and simple - the story behind the picture

It's funny how many of my pictures that evoke emotion in me are actually tapping into emotion from my childhood. A previous story-behind-the-picture piece I wrote for this blog looked at my childhood love of playing tennis alongside a photograph taken more than two decades on. You can read it here.
Today, I talk about aircraft.
My wife, son and I visited the Yorkshire Air Museum today. It was my son's first visit, though Kirstie and I have visited several times before. It is a fascinating place full of history, and filled with winged technology to enthral people of all ages.

Gritty, robust, and classy - all at the same time

This picture you see on the right was taken in a huge hangar at the air museum complex, and is of an
aircraft propeller. It looks antique, some would say ancient! But that's exactly what attracted me to it. The elegance, the craft, the engraving on metal of "Scott" filled with blue, the wooden blade with their own two respective markings at either end, the metal bits stained by years of being worked on, repaired, used, and then repaired again. It was as if whatever workshop this aircraft came out of, I could smell the hard work and effort that went into making one of these. Then again, perhaps this "workshop" I speak of is not too much in the realm of fantasy.

And this is where my childhood comes in. As with many children, I too fell in love with aircrafts and the wonders of flight. I never took my first flight till the age of 16 but as a child, I had a friend from school whose family were big into aircraft. They owned several businesses, and had interests in the aircraft business as well. What that translated to for my friend was that he and his brother were huge fans of model aircraft. Not the frilly, dime-a-dozen, plastic-feel kind you get these days. His were gritty, robust, and classy all at the same time. They made a lot of noise, sometimes emitted smoke (which we all agreed was both a good and a bad thing) and when they flew my heart would leap with them. Funnily enough, I never saw their planes actually fly more than a few times. In fact, my best memories of them are just all of us sitting down and watching my friend's brother work on it, fix things little by little, add a bit of fuel here, tighten a screw there, and just focus all of his energies for that period on this model aircraft. It was like watching an artist at work.

So, in a very simple way, when I saw this propeller set at the Yorkshire Air Museum, I was - as with my tennis session - taken back to a simpler time! I must apologise as I don't actually remember what kind of aircraft this belongs to. Reason being that I was so taken in by the propeller and its looks and the memories that I forgot to have a read of the information board. 

Rant 99: My English is apparently very good

There are various ways of being an immigrant these days. You could be seeking a better life, more money, seeking love, or maybe fleeing war and persecution. But whatever label we put on ourselves - or, rather, whatever label society chooses to put on us - the language I speak and how I speak it has had an impact on how I am perceived.

Take English for instance, purely on a basic level. Here is a conversation I have had on several occasions since moving from India to England in 2011.

Other person: “Are you from India?”

Me: “Yes.”

Other person: “Your English is very good.”

Me: “Err… thanks.”

*resists temptation to say “so is yours” *

Now, unless you were my English teacher, or the one who marked my exam papers, I have never really needed validation of my level of English. Case in point, my journalism professor in England once said my spoken English was “impeccable”, which led to an awkward silence in a classroom mostly filled with British students.

I grew up in an English-based school, in a country that is arguably one of the fastest developing in the modern world, and with parents and friends who spoke more English than Hindi. India has embraced many parts of western culture and one of those is certainly the language. Also bear in mind the education system in India is largely a product of the British colonial presence pre-August 1947. Hardly surprising then that the vast majority of urban and suburban children in India grow up with better English than Hindi - or any other regional language. To put it another way, if I had to choose a language to save my life, it would be English. My English is not perfect - no way would I describe it as “impeccable” either - but it does the job for me.

So why do the aforementioned feel compelled to compliment me? I suppose in the case of my journalism professor it’s part of his job, which makes it okay to an extent. In the case of the ‘other person’ - the captain of a village cricket team I was part of - it could be the need to feel superior.

That is my theory as to why somebody feels the need to point out how good (or bad) my English is - dominance. Is there a perception that an immigrant, or in simpler terms a foreigner, must surely be in a state of perpetual struggle with his new environment and culture? And is there a case that this applies only to foreigners/immigrants from the developing or third-world countries? I’m still searching for a complete answer, but perhaps there is some merit to be given to anecdotal evidence. Why else would somebody feel that he or she must comment on the language of a foreigner, bearing in mind I have never heard the same being said by one Englishman to another? Ah we are of this country so surely we speak our language best, and the fact that you grew up in another country means you can never be as good as us.

Could another theory be that it’s simply ignorance? That the cricket captain - like many others who think my English is “very good” - is just not as aware of the wider world? It feels weird writing a statement like that in the 21st century, but perhaps that is also part of the truth. It doesn’t make it acceptable in any case.

I do not feel that speaking/writing good Hindi is the sole preserve of Indians. In fact, Hindi can boast Sanskrit (central Asia) and Persian influences so who am I to assume that someone in Tajikistan or Iran does not speak impeccable Hindi? Or that if someone from Tajikistan or Iran speaks Hindi to me, that I must make sure he knows how good his Hindi is?

He probably knows how good his Hindi is so, you know, thanks but no thanks!

Rant 98: Born in the wrong country

Identity
I’m not the first person who when asked “where are you from?” falls down a mental black hole of uncertainty and insecurity. I’m also sure I’m not the first person who feels their identity is in a constant flux.

And so the question raises itself again: Where am I truly from?

To clear the basics: I was, I am told, born in the state of Orissa in the south eastern part of India. I am told it was in the summer. I remember growing up in Jamshedpur, in the state of Bihar (now Jharkhand) in eastern India. So, surely, I must identify with that place?

However, a mixture of insecurity during childhood, peer pressure, social embarrassment, bullying, failure to achieve expectations, and a general desire to see the wider world forced me to reject the place I grew up in. Jamshedpur is still the place that I know best - geographically speaking - and it is still the place where I have spent the most amount of time at a single stretch. But I am not from Jamshedpur.

To continue the basics: I did my basic bachelor’s degree in Manipal, in the coastal belt of south west India. I rejected an opportunity to study in the United States and packed off to a university known more for its party scene than its academic prowess. I spent three years doing a degree I had supposedly wanted to do. I made some friends, had some adventures, and eventually scraped through with a degree. However, among the many regrets was the fact that I had wasted three years of my life indulging in forms of excess I had not expected of myself. Add to that more social exclusion, being generally bullied, and rejected in areas of love. All of these add up to more bad memories, more regrets, and more feelings of shame when remembering the past. I am not from Manipal.

I spent the next two-and-a-half years working out of Mangalore, which was just an hour away from Manipal - again on the coast. Here, I found myself professionally. I became good at what I did. I made two very good friends, had some amazing experiences, found love, then lost it, then indulged in excess and then found my future wife. And yet, I do not identify myself as being from Mangalore. This one I am at a loss to explain why.

My then-girlfriend-now-wife had been visiting from England. We fell in love and I eventually came over to the UK to do my Master’s degree. There was a great deal of excitement about being in a totally new country. And an equally exciting prospect was leaving India behind. Not just the land, but all my bad memories. I had resolved to change myself. I had resolved to run away from all that I hated about India, all that I hated about my association with India. I was of the opinion, that if I separated myself by vast oceans and thousands of miles, India would never catch up with me. My past, I hoped, would never resurface. And thankfully, there has never been a major occurrence of that so far.

And so I resolved to change myself. I tried, and I still am trying, to become British. It’s a weird moment in my life when I admit to myself, that I need to begin a new identity. Secret agents perhaps have it easy when changing identities, as it’s part of the job. They don’t necessarily choose having to become someone else. They are required to. I’m choosing to change my identity.

Since late 2011, in fact, I have consciously tried to change my habits, my way of speaking, my way of communicating, my way of cracking jokes, my way of watching television, heck even my way of drinking water.

I do not know if what I am doing is correct. It’s difficult to integrate into a culture that is so vastly different from the one you grew up in. Even in the multicultural world of 2015, there are some things I can just never hope to be; or some things that you just can’t choose into being. On a day-to-day basis, "being British" - or whatever I am doing is called - isn’t easy. I’m sure there are many Brits who say the same thing.

It’s difficult. But I am trying.

I am not from England. But from November 2015 onwards, a part of me has officially staked claim to being from England. A part of my identity has been reborn. And this time, I get the feeling it's the right country.

Yorkshire De Tour - Part 1

Part 1: Sheffield Wednesday's nerves of steel
7th February, 2015: Having found a rare Saturday off, I decided the best use of it would be to travel down to Sheffield. Yes, it is really travelling 'down' as Sheffield lies in South Yorkshire and was once the heartland of steel in the UK. Quite a nice city to start off this Yorkshire tour then, given my Jamshedpur and TATA Steel roots. Today, Sheffield boasts a huge university, a vibrant music and theatre scene, and two historic Football League clubs. I was off to Sheffield Wednesday versus Cardiff City, two former Premier League clubs in fact. A few people from my office support Wednesday, otherwise known as the Owls.
I paid £12.30 for a return ticket from Goole to Sheffield. The Northern rail service takes you through Doncaster and into Sheffield. As soon as you exit the station you can see the Sheffield Hallam University buildings. I, of course, headed out for a pre-match pint at The Sheffield Tap, which is attached to the station, and which was insanely busy.

Pre-match entertainment is always standard!

Regardless, I then made my way to the tram stop at the station. I met several fans on the tram, and everyone seemed to recommend getting off at Hillsborough stop. The reason was revealed when I got off at the stop, to be greeted by a massive Weatherspoons pub. Clearly a pre-match favourite haunt.
A massive big-screen projection of the early kick-off, the North London derby between Tottenham and Arsenal was being played. I just about managed to make my way to the bar through the crowds, as you can see in the pitcture, and had a lovely ale to begin with.
I also met James, who told me he had been born and brought up in Sheffield, but had been living in Grimsby for the last eight years. He was there for his first match in two years.
We eventually decided to head to the stadium together, as he knew the shortcut to the Kop, which is a colloquial way of describing the stand where all the hardcore fans sit - or stand for 90 minutes! The stadium itself is just a short 10-minute walk from the pub and you can see the many hundreds of fans making their way as well. It really is a sight to behold at times, when you feel a country as a whole is making its way to football stadia at 3pm on a Saturday. For many it's a release after a week of hard work. You can understand the tribal mentality that comes with such an enterprise.

View of the Kop at Hillsborough from the outside

Almost a world apart from the likes of Old Trafford, which I've visited on a number of occasions, the Hillsborough stadium is very old-school actually. Across a barrier from the kop stand, but still within the stadium premises, you can see the crowds gathered to smoke and have a pint. This in the day of so much health and safety laws is a refreshing throw-back to simpler times! But the actual safety is never compromised, which is a far cry from the tragedy that took place at this very venue.
Anyway, I paid £25 for an adult ticket and took my place way up in the kop stand. You get a seat number assigned but nobody really checks that. I was easily able to sit in a random seat.
It was also the day Wednesday's owner Milan Mandaric was signing off and he gave a rousing speech which the crowd really appreciated.
The match was fairly exciting. The pitch wasn't very good by the looks of it, and it obviously made passing difficult. But there were a fair few chances, not least for former Southampton and Sunderland forward Kenwyne Jones scoring early on with a header.  To their credit, Wednesday were only down for a bit. Came back with a few attacks of their own. The Kop was showing plenty of support including people with drums and bugles. It can get only slightly annoying! But you appreciate the spirit shown by fans who pay upwards of £20 week-in week-out. What you perhaps shouldn't appreciate is rowdy behaviour, with one fan I saw being spoken to in no uncertain terms by the stewards, for being abusive towards another fan. In an age when so much is reported of abuse going unchecked, it's good to see some places are able to monitor and root out such behaviour.

I wanted to cap my matchday experience with a half-time pint and a pie, but sadly the sheer crowds that gather in the smoking/pint area means I'd have ended up waiting well into the second half! But the crowd again shows the passion people have for simple pleasures.All hail the Great British Pie!
There was only a smattering of away fans in the far end, as I guess it's quite a long trek up from Wales. But they had plenty to shout about of course. Thankfully, for the home support, Wednesday earned a penalty in the second half and Will Keane scored the spot kick. Keane is actually on loan at Wednesday from Manchester United, so that's certainly a good sign for us Red Devils! Despite the comeback though, Wednesday were unable to find a winning goal. But it was a draw, which keeps people relatively happy.
Again, much like 3pm, the sheer number of people making their way out onto the streets at 5pm is amazing. Unsurprisingly, there was a sizeable police presence dotted from the ground up to a few tram stops away. It is not unheard of for trouble to break out at football grounds in general, and I have to say I felt much safer seeing the police cars.
I made my way back to Sheffield Station, stopping at a pub along the way of course! And it was easy to catch one of the many trains heading back up towards Goole.
All in all, it was a very enjoyable experience and I am glad I took the plunge. Next week, hopefully, I will bring you a matchday report of another of Yorkshire's older clubs Doncaster Rovers, as we continue this off-beat Tour de Yorkshire.

Ratings-
Matchday costs - 8/10. Ticket Prices just about right considering it's the Championship, pints not too bad.
Stadium - 7/10. Old-School which is refreshing, but not enough toilets!
Football - 6/10. A draw so can't really give anything seven and above sadly. 
Overall Matchday experience - 8/10. 

Rant 96: My Dynamic Shift

It's hard to find ways to kill time sometimes, especially when you're unemployed (enforced). However, it gives ample time to experiment with different types of photography, as well as different types of post-processing.

On a very bright and sunny day.
Perhaps best to leave HDR for sunrise
or sunsets?

Now HDR, or High Dynamic Ranging, was something I had always shied away from. Not for the degree of difficulty, but for the insane amount of unrealism that has creeped into this school. Just google for HDR Photography and you almost feel like you're going through the storyboard for Avatar. Even the online tutorials on HDR make you feel like they're describing marmite, "you either love it, or you detest it".
But thanks to the magic of unemployment, I decided to take the plunge. It almost began on a lazy level, in that I simply crawled out into the backyard and attempted my first HDR composition. And while I wasn't exactly happy with the result (see left), I wasn't wholly disappointed with it either. Didn't look too bad for a first attempt. My next attempt, however, I hit upon a method that worked for me! The problem isn't how you take the picture in the field, but how you compose it in Photoshop later. Layer masks, paintbrush tool to begin with. Leaves and trees create their own challenges, one I solved by toning down the opacity of my paintbrush tool when painting (with Black) in certain areas of the respective mask. All in all, I ended up with a very appealing result, a picture taken literally 20 metres away from my house.
The bench (see right) provided a very nice division between the foreground grass and the sky in the background. It also provided the sense of isolation that I was feeling in the area. It's a place called the Howden marshes and is almost akin to a forest.
I got some really nice feedback off Facebook as well! Most importantly, though, I was given a second lesson in why the RAW format is king. For the simple reason that you can mess up maybe two out of your three frames, but if one is good enough, and it's in RAW, you've got a decent head start in doing your post-processing.
Speaking if Photoshop, I've used Adobe software for a number of years now. But I've been increasingly hearing of a software called Photomatix, which supposedly is good for HDR. I haven't tried it yet, mostly because I am quite comfortable with Photoshop. But who knows, all this experimenting on the field might just push me for experimentation off it!
Lastly, while HDR can be your friend on most occasions - the wow effect is simply addictive - it can be a harsh mistress as well. Use it wisely, else you may end up with an amateurish piece as I did with the one below, taken in a churchyard in Howden.

Rant 95: Protesting protests

Today became an unusual day in Manchester United's history. A form of protest rarely envisioned, let alone seen, at Old Trafford called into question an appointment that was expected to be just a step short of "divine will".

Slightly short of pointless

When the plane dragging the "Wrong One - Moyes Out" Banner flew over Old Trafford, a section of the home fans booed, another sang out the usual songs, whilst Manchester United were on the road to a "routine" wobbly win against Aston Villa. If you wondered why no one, metaphorically, gave much of a crap about this protest, then the answer would be that the pre-match build-up had been about little else. David Moyes, the manager under fire, even made the first move by emerging out of the tunnel ahead of his team, giving the fans present at Old Trafford the chance to show their support. So the lack of enthusiasm, or indeed lack of shock, about the protest was understandable.
The manner of the protest itself has been deemed "classless" by some quarters, this after protest organiser Wes Jones claimed in the build-up that "the rumblings of discontent have started in the stands".
Manchester United are now more than 20 points off their position from 2012/13, have a home record only better than some teams fighting for survival, and have rarely won against top-five opposition this season.  It is easy to put the blame on Moyes, who essentially inherited a title-winning side. It is only slightly harder to blame the players, even if Moyes contends there are several ageing limbs - and perhaps rightly so.
The plane/banner protest was presumably in response to a banner that hangs from Old Trafford's Stretford End stand reading "The Chosen One". Sir Alex Ferguson's role in Moyes' appointment was deemed a godsend in the summer, but has now become a point of parody. However, taking the protest from within to newer heights (pardon the pun) was uncalled for. For the majority of fans, the season has gone unexpectedly, but they remain aware of the need to give Moyes time. We remain contenders for a Europa League spot, and need full backing ahead of the Bayern Munich tie. And yes, we are still in contention for the Champions League, no matter how much Bayern lick their lips. Amid all this, the need to maintain support is crucial. It is, of course, as Moyes put it, the right of fans to protest. But what effect does flying a banner over a stadium for all of six seconds achieve, especially when everyone already knows you're going to do it? (At least a certain betting company had the brass to sneak up their own banner on the odds of Fergie making a comeback without anyone getting a whiff!) Protests are meant to shock and this one, thankfully, did not earn its intended mileage either during or after the game.
I have complete respect for those wishing to make their voices heard, but the banner stunt has made us a laughing stock. To my mind, it certainly trumps the anti-Venkys protests at Ewood Park, complete with a live chicken let loose on the pitch.
Our 4-1 win over Aston Villa should be remembered first for the support shown to Moyes, and then for further confidence boosters for our Bayern game. Wayne Rooney continued his good form with two goals, and Juan Mata at last got his first United goal, fittingly, at the same Stretford End that has become a talking point in recent days. In addition, I take heart from Javier Hernandez's display, which saw him score a first league goal since mid-January. Chicharito has failed to hit the heights he achieved under Ferguson, but I'm backing him to come good.
Banners cannot make or break a team. Moyes would certainly not have expected 100% support from the fans last summer, especially with many hoping for Jose Mourinho to be given the role, but fans have to learn to be patient. Several thousand, myself included, have followed United with the idea that winning is a way of life. That is no longer the case, but I am more than content to wait for a good transfer window in the summer and see how this season's recruits gel in from there on. Whatever happens, I know better than to throw my money at a plane banner. 

Rant 91: Pitching camp

Too often we hear the phrase “…hit the panic button…” as a reference to a cricket team suffering a major collapse of wickets after a prominent batsman’s exit. It’s an easy way for outsiders to sum up a failed innings with the bat.

Seldom would you hear it in the build-up to a Test.

However, India seem to have taken a comically large hammer to that panic button ever since messers Cook and Compton sauntered through the formalities of scoring 57 to win the second Test in Mumbai. The bewildered Wankhede public wondered how they would fill time on the fifth day that would never be. Analyse Monty Panesary’s one-dimensional but effective spin? Graeme Swann’s variations? The fact that Sachin Tendulkar seems a mere shadow of his old self? Well they may have done so in their own heads whilst enjoying a nice walk down Juhu beach.

The BCCI, however, chose to focus on the issue of pitches. The euphoria of the Ahmedabad victory being a spin-led affair made choosing a rank turner at the Wankhede a no-brainer. MS Dhoni even “asked” for it, thinking it would lead to an even quicker victory than the one at Motera. How viciously that backfired.

In the build-up to the third Test at the iconic Eden Gardens in Kolkata, the board have been in a tizzy, causing a saga that has all the hallmarks of Bollywood drama.

A BCCI representative was sent over to “assist” in pitch preparations, alongside groundsman-in-chief Prabir Mukherjee, a grizzled, 83-year-old veteran, who last year had a verbal spat with Dhoni. The Indian captain criticised the Eden pitch, despite a 95-run ODI win over England, as an “ugly wicket” to which Mukherjee responded, “pitches don’t score runs, batsmen do”.

Dhoni’s fresh calls for a turning surface caused more consternation with Mukherjee, who bemoaned: “This is immoral because you (organisers) are selling tickets for a five-day Test. On a square turner, there's every chance of a match ending in three days. Why rob people of two days' play?” The groundsman then refused to come to work, reportedly for health reasons, but has since been persuaded by the board to continue supervising preparations.

Utpal Dutt, moustachioed like the pitch
curator he should have been!

I can well imagine Shahrukh Khan playing the role of MS Dhoni, trying to keep his charisma going whilst an enraged Amrish Puri (aka any BCCI chief honcho) tries to seek revenge by sending his right-hand-man Teja to manipulate things at the ground level. All along, curator Utpal Dutt has been gagged and bound to a chair, but who anyway refuses to work with that “upstart” Teja.

Within all this, the real reason for India’s capitulation was never sought by the board. Was the furore over pitches deliberately caused to avoid talking about India’s faults with bat and ball? Could well be, considering the secrecy around match pitches and conditions of the practice pitches. Or is it a case of looking short term, i.e. win the series here to gain revenge for last year’s drubbing?

Whichever way you look at it, the BCCI seem to have their heads in the sand. As if the mere presence of turning wickets would have been enough to secure a series win. It is, unfortunately, the same argument we have for including failing players, who may have been stalwarts in their time. I will not include names for betraying the fan part of my sporting soul.

But is it too much to ask our players to try and take the pitch out of the equation? To repeat from last year, teams that are truly great learn to adapt in foreign climes. We failed spectacularly in this respect last year, while England have learnt admirably from their mistakes.

If this were war, the full-blown clamour for favourable pitches (and nothing else) would take us back to the trenches of World War One. Dig one and you can be relatively protected from the enemy’s bullets, maybe even win a skirmish or two. However, as we saw in Mumbai, the enemy has advanced its technique. It has taken stock of the type of soil that lies beyond the trench and clambered out – it took risks and won rewards. In the next five days, it will take stronger steps towards our trench.

We seem to have stopped questioning our own ammunition and unfortunately, once the bayonets are mere inches from the heart, the ground below will matter so little.

Rant 90: Turn the page

I was struggling to find a way to incorporate all the stories I've had so far since I came to the UK last year in September... I suppose you will have to make do with this for now
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Rant 89: The most important sportsman

The lights shone bright on the green surface some hundred yards away from where I sat. On the surface, individuals from a certain sports team I favoured were battling it out for top honours against their rivals. The tension was immense and threatened to overshadow the excitement of watching the title clash unfolding in front of me. The crowd – which had packed the stands to breaking point - had been waiting for what seemed like ages. Some, like me, stood transfixed by the action, unable to move; others had closed their eyes in silent prayer; still others were singing their hearts out for that extra piece of inspiration to surge the team onward.

At last, just as all hope was lost, the winning moment arrived as my team’s captain pulled off a spectacular strike to send the packed house into delirium.

Replace team with either the Indian cricket team or Manchester United. The strange bit is perhaps the fact that there is not much by way of differences to compare. Perhaps this is because both sports occupy the primary position of following in their respective countries.

Sudhir Kumar Chaudhary (right)

Fans of either team, or even just of the sport itself, are a curious brand of patrons. It doesn’t matter whether you’re spending more than eight hours in 40-degree heat to watch India pull off a world cup win, or spending two hours in minus-four-degree cold to see United see off noisy neighbours Manchester City. The sheer amount of passion and dedication employed by both sets of fans is the same.

Chacha Cricket

For thousands, a match is more than just a result. Days, sometimes entire lives, are based around following their team. Take the case of Sudhir Kumar Chaudhary,  who was awared an honourary ticket for all of India’s home matches, or Pakistan fan Chaudhry Abdul Jalil lovingly known as chacha (uncle) insert picture or the Portsmouth fan, who legally had his name changed to John Anthony Portsmouth Football Club Westwood to show his dedication for the south coast side.

John Westwood

The fan following has a curious effect on the rest of the populace, at least in the case of India and Pakistan. The two nations may be at odds over several political issues, and border tensions may be high, but Chaudhary and Chacha are guaranteed recipients of match tickets and travel visas when the two sides meet in their respective backyards. As a result, entire nations can shake off political differences.

It just goes to show how sport can transcend borders, and as Wanderley Luxemburgo, Brazil football team’s coach in 1999 said: "A player who conjugates a verb in the first person singular cannot be part of the squad, he has to conjugate the verb in the first person plural. We. We want to conquer. We are going to conquer. Using the word I when you're in a group makes things complicated."

The true sports fan is the 12th man for any team, and will perhaps be the first to speak the aforementioned words.

Rant 87: Do you vomit Blue???

And so at last the bubble has burst. After months and months of self-aggrandisement, it has finally been proven that simply waving a flag, "having the best batting order", and the most "cunning captain in the world", cannot save a cricket team from being absolute s**t when the situation calls for it.
To all the media hacks and Ravi Shastri who claim that our batting, bowling, selection policy and Kris Srikkanth's slurred ramblings are the best, you are wrong!! Because as we all know, the hard-working Indian cricket fan is the world's greatest batsman (arrey front foot pey khelo saale bhadwe!!!), the world's greatest bowler (round the wicket pphekega toh swing karega dekhna!), and of course selector (abey woh west zone key against biased hai isliye nai choose kiya mujhe).
And so I decided to explore what the paying public had to say about the damning humiliation that has befallen our cricketers in Jolly Ol' England. The article itself does not matter too much. It could range from "Dhoni should employ more spinners" to "My grandmother with Alzheimer could have played that shot better".... I picked out the aptly titled: "Why Team India is in a state of free fall" .
The points made were astute I guess: reasons for the defeat, our under-preparedness, our selection policy, our batting, our bowling, our dinner break, and topped off with the poignant conclusion that "hah! Ganguly could have done a much better job. I told u so, but forget it, I'm off to have some misti doi"
And as predicted, a plethora of comments ensued. SK clearly had the measure of things in terms of coaches as he sounded a warning to the BCCI by claiming: "I hope this is the clear sign of lossing a GARY KRISTAN." Clearly, the players are not focused enough because we seem to have lost any memory of a coach called Gary "Kristan". Presumably Mr Kristan was the interim coach after Gary Kirsten resigned from his post.
VCjob took on the task of speaking for all the grumpy-old-men of India's middle-class, who never return the cricket ball when it lands in their front yard. We lost the match "because cricket is a freaking game of chance and Indians are wasting youngster's talent and time on this worthless game." Well said Sir! Mr Malhotra from house no. 42 will visit you soon and gift you some barfi as soon as his afternoon siesta is done and he has taken his meds for the day.
Charudatta Lamaye, in his infinite wisdom, outlined a 12-point programme for the resurrection of our fortunes, where the phrase knee-jerk reaction at last had a champion, and pearls such as "cannot judge Munaf as he did not play" wreaked havoc among the BCCI elite! This author would like to add that we also cannot judge Parthiv Patel, Ravindra Jadeja, Sunil Gavaskar, my neighbour, my neighbour's daughter and the alleyway rascal who keeps sending her rude letters, as all these characters did not play the match either.
A teary-eyed Anand Bhagwat recalled the old days, and keeping small matters like grammar and coherence completely out of the equation, bellowed: "India should play aggresively...If Ganguly is caption the were different, Indian team doesn't have face their...Its look like India is not playing there...we are Missing Sourav's agression." Quite why Ganguly would want to be the "caption" for the sorry picture of Indian cricket is unclear.
Jay, having flipped through the entire rulebook of cricket, promptly threw it out the window and concluded that cricket, after all, is a one-man game. And not just any man, but somebody who's literally broken his back for the love of the game. Yet, the immediate reaction demanded by Jay was: "Tendulkar should quit playing Test cricket as an apology to the nation." According to rumours, a visibly shocked Tendulkar later issued a press release where it was his precise intention to speak during Parliament's winter session, donate a million gallons of milk to his local temple, and whip himself dry while wearing a pink tutu and asking himself: "have I made it large??"
Ashish, fresh out of Harvard Business School and having watched his girlfriend deliver a sexy report on NDTV Profit, attempted to explain things a little more scientifically. And of course, being the financially astute gentleman he is, his analogy referred to the US and its ongoing problems. "its just one of the bad patches," he remarked. "just like the downward spiral of the Dow Index as SnP downgraded US from AAA to AA....its something similar. Kind of a jolt, nothing to be worried about. Team India still has the substance, just as US gives good returns despite being AA."
So there you go! Bums on Seats are what make our country the fine democrazy it is, and our cricket team the best damn actors to grace the Kingfisher 2011 Calendar.
There are several of us however, who worry about the real problems facing this country, and Tapan Kumar's comment at the very bottom of the page highlights concerns that I'm sure each and every one of us faces at some point in our lives.
"If appears that bengalis might have f..ked you under someones consent that's you are nervous about permanant erection."