Rant 104: Running for tech's sake?

I took up running in October last year. I know, right? I, who was agile on a tennis court but who would struggle to jog for 20 minutes without wheezing and panting, was suddenly putting one foot in front of the other on a road and just running for the sake of running. As my dream job lay in pieces, as I lost confidence in my professional life, as I lost confidence in general, I somehow pulled myself up to go from fearing running to running a 10K recently. I'm aiming for a half-marathon in June. I've come quite far. And I didn't need a fitness tracker to tell me that.

Enjoying the scenery at my local Parkrun in Goole

I enjoy most aspects of running, and not just the exercise bit - meeting new people, bettering myself every time, finding new limits to my physicality and so forth. But I do notice a lot of people in the running community are obsessed with the technology that goes with it. The sheer number of fitness watches, for example, in the market today make my head spin. Not to mention all the apps that allow your phone to become a fitness tracker. Garmin, Strava, Nike, Adidas, Map My Run, and the thousands of others, all seem to cater to one taste or another. And they all let you post to social (obvious eh?) which is nice if you're in a group and want to keep each other motivated.
But do we really need all of this technology? I can see the need for elite runners to be hooked up to all sorts of devices, sure. But does Joe Bloggs? (or me who isn't really training for the Olympics anytime soon)
As we go out on a practice run around the block, do we really need a fitness watch, a mobile app, a heart-rate monitor, headphones, then music as well? (By the way, this is not to single out those with health conditions who genuinely need to monitor their heart rates when running) This gear doesn't come cheap either. Fitness watches are anything from £50 to name-your-price. Plenty of apps are free but if you want to "geek out" as one manufacturer says on its profile why not pay for the premium version to get all sorts of stats and details that even Usain Bolt may not have access to (he probably does, but you get my point)?

I have a digital watch, it cost me £7, and it has a stop watch. If you think back to when running probably became an Olympic sport, that's probably all that athletes had (swap digital for analog watch, of course!)

A kiss for my son before the Huddersfield 10K

But here's my chronology and how I came to my decision to run relatively "off-grid". When I started running back in October, I had my phone with Google Fit on it, kept in my left shorts pocket. I had music on with a set of wired headphones but I didn't have a watch. The reason I describe my get up in detail is because I came to realise I was concentrating more on the tech not hindering me than I was on things like my breathing, my gait, or my general state. Phone in the pocket jangles, accidentally swipes my workout shut; headphone wires get tangled in my hands, unit falls to ground, me frustrated, the right song doesn't come up on the player, mood deflates; constantly checking Google Fit for distance run, so not concentrating on running itself. One day in December, I cast it all away and bought the £7 watch. My next Parkrun was, for that time, my best ever. It was a defining moment. No longer was I obsessed with my distance, my average pace, my steps, my heart rate, my music, or wires. I was running, my feet were moving, and I was enjoying the scenery. (Case in point, my recent 10k in Huddersfield which is a supremely picturesque part of England so I really didn't want to miss the views. As opposed to a few runners who literally had their phones in their hands and in front of their faces! That's a safety issue to begin with.)
I know roughly what the distances are around my house so short runs are sorted for. And if I do find myself mentally drifting because there's no music to listen to, I solve math problems. Yep! I pick two random numbers and do basic arithmetic. Sometimes I get the answer right, sometimes wrong. It tells me a lot about my mental state during running, though, which I feel no app or fitness watch can ever do. Another way to keep mentally fit? I try and remember where I'm running to - especially on long runs - then I can "make" that route on Google maps on my return and see how far I've run. It's not an exact science but I don't need that much detail for what is essentially the world's oldest and simplest form of exercise.

In a similar way, my legs will remember the stress of a 10k longer than an app can. Cost: Zero, Results: Priceless.

PS: I'm raising money for Macmillan Cancer Support ahead of this June's Humber Bridge Half Marathon - also my 30th birthday. This is a humble request for donations which you can make by clicking here.

Rant 100: Why I love tennis - the story behind the picture

I’ve often thought about doing a full blog post about the pictures that I click and share on my photography page (click here if you want to have a scroll). For one reason or another I’ve never been able to. But this being my 100th Rant, I thought I’d take the plunge.

So, to set the scene - I’d finished work at 7pm, and was torn between going to the gym or playing tennis with a friend. As it turned out my friend was not available to play. And so I ended up on my own at the tennis court.

And suddenly, I was a five-year-old again!

Tennis in the Twilight (location: Goole Tennis Centre)

Flashback to the early 90s in Jamshedpur. My father decided to enrol a four-and-a-half-year-old me in tennis lessons. Now, growing up in India, with cricket as the unofficial national sport, I was a bit bemused. In fact, I even resisted. Why would I want to play something like tennis, when I could instead be out playing cricket with my neighbourhood friends? Everybody played cricket, literally everybody. Whether it was at school, or at the local park. Still, my father persisted, and took me on his little green-yellow lambretta scooter to a local recreation centre called “United Club”. Among things like showing movies, food, swimming pool, they had two clay tennis courts.
I can remember it very clearly now, the first time I stepped on to a tennis court. My father was introducing me to the coach, but I was lost in a different world. Somehow, by some stroke of luck, I was transfixed by the court. Red clay, with pristine white lines, and with a net across the middle. It was mesmerising, it really was. And that’s part of the reason why I remember those first few steps so vividly. From then on, I was hooked on tennis.

Tennis is an individual sport, and in many ways it suited me perfectly. I’ve always had my own rebellious streak so perhaps a team sport like cricket or football was not best suited. In tennis, I work for my own win, mistakes are mine to bear, and my creativity is mine alone. I can be as crazy, or as subtle as I want. At the moment of hitting a ball, nobody can tell you how to play the stroke - you play it, and be it on your head. I loved it.

But tennis is also different. And this goes back to the fact that not a lot of people played it - at the time - in Jamshedpur. I was taught the basic strokes, but I would regularly struggle to actually play much. My coach and his colleagues Tillak Sir, Ganesh Bhaiya and others, to their immense credit, seemed to love that I loved the sport so much, and would therefore basket-feed me about 200 balls every day. But that was about it. At the start I was not good enough or old enough to play a proper match against them, though it never stopped me trying, and none of my age-group peers played tennis. I was on my own. And still I played and loved.

In fact it came to a point when even ball-feeding from the coaches stopped, given I used to be the only kid who would rock up every afternoon - couldn’t blame the coaches. But still I came, and grew to love the game even more.

One reason - because even when the coaching stopped, even when the coaches did not emerge from the clubhouse in the 40-degree heat, I continued to play. I would be dropped off by my father at around 3pm - on his way to work - I would be given a tennis ball by the coach, and I would stand at the court baseline and hit against the perimeter wall. I was playing against myself. I would play games of my own. How many shots could I do in one “rally”? How many volleys could I do standing closer to the wall? How many tap-ups could I do in a minute? The stats, as it were, eventually became irrelevant. What mattered was that I was gaining valuable experience of my own limits; I was learning a lot about the proper grip on a racket - the coach would sometimes observe and give a few pointers - I improved my agility and balance, and my movement around the court area. I am still a predominantly baseline player and rely on a strong top-spin game. Basically, those years spent banging against wall, I could do whatever the heck I wanted in that time without being troubled by parents or siblings or friends, and without being judged for it as well.

It helped me find myself at a very young age.

And so I found myself again… 24 years later, on a brisk but sunny evening in Goole, East Yorkshire, nearly 6,000 miles away from those sun-baked courts in Jamshedpur. I stretched, jogged, then started hitting the ball on my own, swung some forehands, some backhands, smashed some serves.

I learned.

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 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 94: A radical slip of the tongue

Brett Lee once discovered to
his annoyance how bloody
dangerous fielding on the
ropes is

Ever watched a cricket match, and wondered which was the most important fielding position? I would wager the majority probably doesn't, myself included. After all, there is no guarantee of where the ball will be hit. Well, unless you're Chris Gayle, in which case the best position is probably with the chana wala outside the stadium.
But I'm talking about a position that is used only in certain periods of the match. Not always like a wicketkeeper, not always like point, perhaps, or even not as frequently as fine-leg. I'm talking about the slips.
There's no doubt that the three slip positions (and possibly the gully) are the most used only in the first 10 or 15 overs, when the ball is at its most menacing and the fast bowlers are trying to get movement. An edge to slip is arguably the most common method of dismissal in the first five overs of any game (no opener worth his salt will try a heave in the first five and risk being caught out by early bounce). And leg slip provides valuable deterrent when the spin-led middle overs come by.
Now, I've always wondered about the fielding positions that fast bowlers are used in. If it sounds like I've taken off somewhere else, bear with me. The most common position fast bowlers are put in is on the boundary. Seems logical, perhaps. They have good arms from years of turning it over; good pace from years of watching Shoaib Akhtar; and a good eye from years of trying to hit the correct spot on a pitch. Plus I've heard it said that it's a lazy job, that you're standing around doing nothing for a lot of the time - unless you count drinking Gatorade as a form of exercise.
But I've always been struck by how easily it can go wrong for a fielder at, say, deep square-leg, or maybe deep cover, or even third-man in those nervy middle overs. Putting in the yards to stop a boundary has inevitably led to some body part taking an unnatural position in the climax and there's an injury. Plus add in the fact that the swift release and pacy throws from the deep are, no doubt, hell on the arm. And in the death overs, do you really expect batsmen to not be going for boundary shots?
So my argument is, why not stick them in the slips? Why is it necessary for a player, whose main job on a cricket field is basically to run really fast and turn his arm over six times in a few minutes, to then have even more running and arm slinging to do?
It does sound very radical, I agree, and not traditional at all. I'm a fan of the traditional (given my hatred of Virender Sehwag's penchant for playing like a cow on steroids), but I'm learning to adapt. Bowlers are being given very little incentive to bowl faster and with better swing. Bouncers were reduced, fielders have been brought in, and the concept of free-hits (for f***s sake). The least I would want my bowlers to do is reduce their own workload slightly. I wouldn't even consider putting them in the short positions (short cover, short mid-wicket, short mid-off etc), because you're exposed to (a) a lot of short sprinting, and (b) risky dives on the training pitches.
The slips, in my opinion, are the best for them. It requires, possibly, the least amount of work. And requires much less bending than the keeper position (in case anyone wanted that argument). In addition, bowlers with long arms are perfect for that agonisingly wide edge that fat-man Sehwag couldn't be bothered to try for (I couldn't give a monkey's fiery posterior about his cuticle being damaged - catch the bloody ball!!).
Anyway, that was an idea that came to me today, and I've posted it out there now. I'm sure my minions in the BCCI are hard at work at rectifying this "oddity". I look forward to a strongly worded letter from N Srinivasan - and a lawsuit or two - to arrive any day now.

Rant 93: Brainstorming before the Big Bash

As most working individuals will agree, shift duties on a rolling rota basis are never an easy task, especially those that involve ungodly hours. In the last seven days, I have entered the office here at 6am on five occasions. It's perhaps not very healthy but I know which side my metaphorical bread is being buttered on so needs must and all that.
One of the ways to keep sane when the "weather outside is frightful" and sleep threatens, is have lots of coffee and watch early morning cricket. Obviously it was not very pleasant watching the drubbing meted out to India recently, but today it was the Big Bash league that caught my attention - for more reasons than merely staying awake.
It's cricket that makes you go, "what the fratch dude?", not for the usual T20 madness but for things like the Umpire cam, and those red lights on the bails that flicker every time they're touched. The latter reminds me of Ice Hockey for some reason, while the icing on the cake is perhaps the flying camera. I wonder if at the planning stage, the chief organiser gathered his minions in a dingy room inside Cricket Australia headquarters and went:-
Head Honcho: "Right boys, I'd like a list of all your favourite action movies, and the awesome gadgetry that went with them".

Minion1: "What about Liz Hurley?"

HH: "As a cheerleader?"

M1: "No, as an awesome piece of gadgetry that flickers every time you touch it."

HH: "I like your style, but I think Shane Warne's already got an exclusive patent for that."

M2: "How about a camera that flies? IPL's got a Spidercam, we'll call ours Supercam! hah! and let's have it dramatically tear its plastic cover off the front every time we switch it on."

HH: "Excellent, and I can take control of the camera no problem. I like to keep track of all aspects of our league. On a different issue, can we make it a law that all women must wear low-cut tops at the games, for...err...safety reasons?"

M3: "I think that happens anyway boss."

HH: "Oh good good. I really like keeping track of boobie...I mean safety. What else can we do to jazz up this league? I can't have that Srinivasan fellow guffawing at me every time we meet at the annual Cricket's Biggest League Leeches Awards dinner. If I have to hear "our parties are better than your parties" one more time I'm going to snap. Can I help it if all our players and spectators are already so drunk while playing that they lose the stamina to actually party when the need arises?"

M3: "What about little lights?"

HH: "This ain't Diwali mate. I'm all for cultural diversity but I don't think a candle's going to cut it. Have you seen the size of the MCG?"

M3: "Hear me out boss. You know how everyone has a problem figuring out whether the bails have been removed from the wicket?"

HH: "Err...don't they usually fall off quite easily? I've seen Virender Sehwag's huffs and puffs after walking a single that have forced them off."

M3: "Well yeah, but I was thinking more for run-outs and stuff. I was watching Mr India last night and was quite taken by the multi-coloured lights in Mogambo's lair attached to his various instruments of doom. I mean come on, he was about to blow up a city with a bomb, the least he could do is have a bit of variety in the buttons eh? So anyway, I was thinking, if we fix two red lights on the bails which are touch-sensitive, then we'd know the exact moment they've come off."

HH: "Excellent! Very Roger Moore James Bond-like as well. Oh man, little lights on bails, flying cameras, I don't know how we're going to top this."

M4: "A camera on the umpire's cap, boss?"

HH: "Ooooh! that's very futuristic. Tom Cruise can suck it. I mean this will completely take our ratings to a new level."

M4: "Shouldn't we spin it so that it looks like we're doing it to help TV umpires?"

HH: "Yes yes sure whatever! I'll make sure the media get a picture of me posing with a flag that has the words 'I stand for correct decisions' emblazoned across it. But think of the ratings. Everytime we switch to the umpire cam, it will look like an earthquake is taking place. People will rush to their friends and say 'OMG like there's an earthquake taking place mate! switch on the telly', only to find out it's just the umpire cam. Then they'll sheepishly laugh at themselves before watching the cricket. Hence: Ratings!"

M4: "Yess Bosss! 

Despite the mockery, I actually think that flickering-bails technology is a good idea, as is the umpire cam. But  it will need a generational change before the BCCI think of allowing it in their backyards.
till then, enjoy the cricket!

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 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 88: I miss you

I am about to embark upon a new chapter in my life. It will take place in a foreign land. I will be taking on an educational challenge that will define my career, meeting new people, building on some acquaintances, and continuing a very special relationship. I cannot begin to describe how excited I am about this new chapter. (For brevity's sake, let's assume: I am excited).
However, I will leave behind some incredible memories and:-

1) The culmination of perhaps India's most revolutionary time since the Emergency. I do not have an opinion on the cause that "team Anna" and the government are at loggerheads over. However, the buzz about anti-corruption seems to have reached a frenzy and god help me, I might just miss that.

2) The first ever Formula One Indian Grand Prix. Like it for its thrill-a-minute excitement or hate it for the extreme waste of natural resources, the sport will gain a huge amount of attention once the five red lights go out at the Buddh International Circuit in Delhi. I will miss being a part of the action.

3) Metallica's first Indian concert. I fell to the peer pressure tactic of listening to heavy metal back in my high school days. And while I've discarded most of the bands that I thought I liked back then, Metallica remains a band that I still enjoy very much. I probably cannot tell my E flat note from my B-Major-extended-then-drop-it-down-two-notches-before-using-your-thumb-on-the-E-string chord, but the acquired listening taste towards ear-splitting music is well worth the intense neck pain from a night of drunken headbanging whilst rapidly air-guitaring. I will miss doing that on the national stage.

4) Sporting revenge. After all the back-slapping/public flogging about how England thoroughly beat the flying shit out of India was over, we realised that England probably had the upper hand thanks to home advantage. Well, among several other reasons I'm sure, but let's keep the home advantage tag for argument's sake. Well Sir! you'll find that India are top dogs in our own backyard as well! Come October and England visit India, so bloody hell, I'm going to thoroughly miss the sight of our Men in Blue exacting revenge.

Rant 68: The post that wishes for ‘un-plugged’ cricket commentary

Note: Characters and events are inspired by the recent international test and one-day matches featuring India and Sri Lanka. Any resemblance to reality is purely intentional.
Noted commentator Mr. (insert name of Australian batting great): Welcome to the first test match between India and Sri Lanka in Dambulla. Good morning to our viewers across the world, and also to my co-commentator Mr. (insert name of Indian batting not-so-great-as-that-Australian-fella).
Comm2: Thank you Comm1, yes we are finally set for the match, the clouds look lovely, the pitch looks good, the cute chick in the stands looks do-able…whoops..er…and both captains look hungry for the win. Indeed, they look hungrier than I was yesterday when presented some of that lovely (name of random Sri Lankan local cuisine currently sold in the spectator stands, which the camera focuses on instead of the actual cricket). Incidentally, that dish was invented only last night by Mr. Guranamishanwardene who wanted to give his fishing company employees some proper incentive during those long hours that they spent looking for my marriage ring that was swept away to sea as I lay drunk on the beach after our long binge session.
Comm1 (clearly overwhelmed look on his face): Err..yes..that’s an interesting tale Comm2. I'm so glad you brought this up now. Meanwhile, the first five overs have been bowled with 30 runs scored. I wonder if Sehwag will score a century given his recent poor run of form….
Comm2: Oh yes, he certainly has the skills to do so. He just needs to work on his footwork a little bit, just like I need to work on my skills at pressing the keypad on the new micromaxx Q6 mobile with added features of Bluetooth, one-touch facebook, and a camera that can take dirty pictures of my wife on the can without a clicky sound. Incidentally, I used that camera yesterday when your lovely ‘escort’ came over towards….
Comm1: AHEM!!!!! Thank you for that lovely insight Comm1. Yes indeed, the new micromaxx Q6 mobile with added features of Bluetooth, one-touch facebook, and a camera that can take dirty pictures of my wife on the can, is a revolutionary piece of technology. It’s nothing like anything you know. Just last week I had a Blackberry on me, but the moment the micromaxx guys came to my house and showed me their new micromaxx Q6 mobile with added features of Bluetooth, one-touch facebook, and a camera that can take dirty pictures of my wife on the can, (not to mention showing me a suitcase with $50,000 for mentioning the product 100 times per innings) I was stumped…hehe see? I can do sports puns as well.
Comm2: Why yes you can! My congratulations to you and your lovely escort. I’m sure there were plenty of puns that you could have used to cover up those lovely noises emanating from your hotel room last night as you….oh gosh did you just see that delivery that bowled Sehwag? It was a wicked delivery from Lasith Malinga. Quite fast and pacey…as fast and pacey as the new Yamaha FZ that comes with alloy wheels, a comfortable seat and can go from zero to 60 in 9seconds, alongwith mirrors to see if any cops are chasing you or not (laughs uncontrollably at his first joke of the year). The bike comes in three pretty colours, green, orange and black. I personally prefer the black as it covers up my otherwise girly looks, giving my wife the macho man she thoroughly deserves (but rarely gets).
Comm1: Ah yes, the Yamaha FZ, that wonderful piece of machinery. I tried riding that yesterday and was quite good at it actually. Only broke my hip and my right lateral meniscus. Which is when I switched over to the Fiat Linea currently on your screens that will be given to the man of the series who could well be…err…ahhh….hmmm…oh well, I’m sure our viewers are paying more attention to the game than we are, so they can predict it anyways. Incidentally, our viewers can SMS their predictions and a lucky winner wins the new micromaxx Q6 mobile with added features of Bluetooth, one-touch facebook, and a camera that can take dirty pictures of my wife on the can. Incidentally, I get bonus pay-offs from Oxford Dictionary Inc. for plugging the word incidentally into my commentary.
As I was saying, I was driving the new Fiat Linea across the paddy fields of Colombo yesterday, and came across some lovely temples and farmers, who showed my how I could get my poppy crops to grow to considerable lengths. All in all, during those lovely drives through the picturesque hills of Sri Lanka, I figured out what the point of this whole series is…i.e. take a holiday in a beach, watch some boring cricket on dead pitches, and earn money advertising ridiculous gadgets.
Comm2: Well said Comm1. all you potential commentators out there. Watch and learn! Cos this is how it’s done.
Oh and there’s a run out and that’s the end of the Indian innings. But not the end of ours eh Comm1? Now how about some lovely (random Sri Lankan delicacy being sold on the stands)? I notice there are some fair females doing the selling. Let’s see if we can bowl some maiden-s over eh? (producer rolls his eyes for the tenth time)
Comm1: So to our viewers, it’s goodbye from us and the next part of the match will be taken care of by Mr. (insert random hack Indian batsman who only played two games but is still classed as ‘expert’ by random sports channel) and Miss. (insert random Indian female celebrity with zero cricketing knowledge but desperate for publicity).

Rant 42: Indian v Sri Lanka 3-1

Just saw the game between India and Sri Lanka in the ONGC Nehru cup 2009, at the Ambedkar Stadium, New Delhi. Must say, that the team looks pretty good in terms of passing the ball around, creating scoring opportunities and actually taking them when it counts.

Although, India lost their Nehru Cup 2009 opener to Lebanon, they came back strongly against Kyrghystan. Sri Lanka, on the other hand, had been reeling from a walloping they received two days ago at the hands of Syria. In the buildup to the India game Coach Perreira (Sri Lanka) had been critical of the fixtures, saying they favoured the hosts who had to play games at a lesser frequency than the visitors.

However, for India the match itself was a must-win, which would certainly have increased the pressure, as opposed to the Lankans who simply had to draw to remain in the tournament.
India took the lead mid-way through the first half through a header from golden-boy Baichung Bhutia. For the most part, the first half looked like India's for the taking as the Lankans remained content with their long, ambitious balls into the final third with only their two strikers chasing after the ball, looking like random farmers in a barren, untouched-by-rain Indian rice field.
Prior to the first goal, India almost got their rewards for dominating the first ten minutes via Sunil Chettri who got his head to a free kick from just outside the half-way line. However, the goal was ruled out for offside. The Indian fans were forced to wait for a superb in-swinging cross from Steven Dias, from the right side touchline, that Bhutia converted with a charging header. The Lankans looked unable to defend the aerial ball at all times and were largely uncomfortable with the constant pressure from their opponents right up to the half time whistle. There were several occasions when the Indian players struck the woodwork and one felt, the hosts deserved a better scoreline in their favour going into the break.
After the break, however, it was the islanders who started the more positive, as they managed a ten-minute period of pressure with shots ranging in from the midfielders (I'm not going to pretend I remember their names!!). India too looked like increasing their lead, with Bhutia striking the woodwork (again off a header).
The Sri Lankan efforts paid off eventually. The goal came off a relatively harmless looking free-kick, which was headed into goal off a defender's foot and was enough to set the scores level. Indian coach Bob Houghton was definitely not pleased with the defending but that didn't stop the Indian forwards from pressing on for the lead. Surprisingly, it was defender Gauramangi Singh who got the lead once again for the hosts, with a simple tap-in after the Lankan goalkeeper failed to parry the ball safely away from a near post cross.
Midfielder Steven Dias found the net around ten minutes later, with a cracking shot after being released on the right by NP Pradeep. 3-1 India!!!
The hosts were then content to make the odd foray down the centre, whilst keeping their opponents at bay. Although, Sri Lanka managed a few runs down the flanks in the final stages of the match, India were able to see the game through.

I must say...even though I haven't followed the Indian team before or since the coaching was taken over by Bob Houghton, it was a pleasure to watch them play. There was a definite attitude of "going forward" that we had.
In contrast, I remember a match we played in England against Wolverhampton Wolves (of the English Premier League) a few years back and I actually felt ashamed at the fact that we could not even provide decent enough competition against a bottom-table league side, let alone score a goal and even worse, play against full-strength national sides.
We seem to have come a long way from that and here's hoping our next game, against Syria, goes just as well!

and btw, the match description was my first attempt at something of a "Match review" perse, so feel free to post any comments, criticism of the same...Thanks!

Rant 4: Bad tennis players

I believe the sports world has the following two classifications amongst so many others.
Good Tennis players Bad Tennis Players
Disclaimer: this post is based on BTP, a class of "players" found as of today in Manipal. Any resemblance to groups elsewhere is purely coincidental.
further i pay homage here to Melvin and Jenkins from M.A.D. Magazine who epitomise the concept given here. any caricatures from fans of the same on these differences are welcome.

1) GTPs realise the importance of a good warmup before settling into the game.
BTPs realise that to be actually able to hold a racket long enough for a shot, you need to be a min of 4 pints (eqv to 2 shots) down. However, in the case of BTPs, there is not much of actual "playing" after the afore mentioned "warmup".

2) GTPs wear appropriate sports footwear comprising flat soles (for clay court play).
BTPs prefer a more hawaian approach, comprising the ever so indian hawai chappal and of course, the kitos, that probably went out of fashion even before the war on terror began.

3) GTPs know that a good swing of the racket is just as important as the point won.
BTPs realise that full body keanu reaves lunges are far more effective at popping the ball back (most often met with even wilder smashes)

4) GTPs playing a friendly learn to trust their opponents' line calls.
BTPs playing friendlies need not a reason to "fight" for every point...they just fight.

5) A 20 shot rally can be a great confidence booster for any GTP.
A 20 meter high shot landing in someone's toilet through the window is the high point of a BTP's day

6) GTPs know that the Tennis court is to be used for TENNIS alone.
BTPs realise 5 a side football is a better usage of the court.

...to be continued