Hot Dawgs!

Last evening, I was an audience to the one of the more enriching and satisfying sporting events of my life. All my watching experiences have been so far on the telly tube. So this one was special. Never imagined the Davis Wade Stadium could pack in so much and so many. WOW! what an atmosphere! If encouragement in any form or of any sort were key to success, then the visitors had better look out for greener victory fetching pastures elsewhere. Musical bands, cheer groups, live commentary, television OB vans, sign boards, sponsors, cow bells, hooting, booing, anthems and all the jazz. You submit yourself so much to the enthusiasm and the wild spirit around that the fact that this game is as alien to you as much the martians are, hardly matters! You cheer, jump with the crowd and join in whenever the time is appropriate and you had better be careful about the wrong'uns lest they annoyed the cheer parties.

There's so much more I could write going on a tangent. So much more about the bohemian attitude that pervades this fun and experience. So much more about this seemingly wonderful place called the United States of America. So much more!

As for the result which was purely of academic interest, the visitors were pulped and yes, barking dogs did bite!

You too be?

I was reading out aloud a piece of news on Rediff as to how 88 people were killed in a Thailand plane crash when He remarked, "video pettademo chooda ra!"


Guess it's the sign of the age we live in!

Free for all...

commentaire!

I notice that this special art is seeing its special performers slightly lose it out to more pedestrian fly-by-night operators. If ever I have to draw a list of its special priests in no particular order this would be it.

Mark Nicholas

Richie Benaud

David Gower

Michael Holding

Henry Blofeld

and

Harsha Bhogle.


I am also tempted to push him in there for he is going to make the cut too soon. Ah, it's so clear a writing on the wall.

Powar Play?

I strongly suspect it. I usually refrain from forming opinions based on the hearsay or from the apparent truths sitting miles away in the comfort of my couch. 101 out of 100 times. I give in to temptations for a change. Not that I haven't exactly given this a thought before, but with the kind of drama unfurling, or that is about to unfurl my thoughts about this seem to be getting up from the hibernatorial slumber. Sacrifice, empathy, jealousy, selfishness, heroics and what have you?

Rahul Dravid, according to my school of special thought, hails from the IIM breed of cricketers. Everything that he did was right. Everything followed a code. Everything had to make sense. Everything that he uttered had to be weighed and superweighed before they touched his tongue. Nothing that he could was wrong and in a manner entirely surprising to me, things that he did at times no matter how contradictory they were compared to his earlier ones, were automatically justified. So it comes as a real jolt to me and not that I am too sad about it, this shrewd soul comes forward to resign his post.

Was it done keeping the future and the bigger picture in mind? Was it a special acquiescence on this otherwise tactful man's part? Was it a larger fabric being crafted wherein if the warps were in the hands of the Sharad Powars, the wefts were being pushed in by the Dilip Vengsarkars? and Rahul Dravid merely a sedate mannequin who would wear just the final cut! Appeasement for peace, anybody?

Any cricket lover no matter how big a fan of SRT will agree in his sleep that the Bombay Blaster is tuning himself to the render the notes of his swan song right. So to have his image unblemished, were efforts being put in by the Circus Pack to throw down one last gauntlet at him, the post of Team India skipper; the ultimate test to one's supremacy which could well turn into a noose otherwise? 1996-1997 and 1999-2000 will bear silent testimonial to that.

Was Rahul Dravid letting himself being knocked a bit initially not minding losing some of his pawns? This knowing very well somewhere in one cerebral pocket of his mind that he would have the ultimate sardonic smile, in this bout of chess he would wantedly or unwantedly have to battle with the BCCI.

Come on where else would we see a skipper return home after nearly dousing the feline fire in their own backyard worthy enough of smug smiles and commercial bandwith, just throw it away?

The members of my IIM breed of cricketers do not let chinks to be formed in the walls. They are too good for that. They are bullwarks. Only one species falls under this breed of mine.

I hope the Royal Bengal Tiger is sprucing his suit and getting the cuffs right.

I do not like my IIM breed.

"Hey Ram!"

My joblessness, and add a couple of ounces of insomnia to that, led me to watching Swades (2004). It took me back to the days when good movie viewing was just a couple of decisions, and perhaps a train ride away to Prasads. I was reminded of this track Pal Pal Hai Bhari, and I can't help but recall my thoughts of the yore.

Pal Pal Hai Bhari

"... mann se jo raavan nikaale
ram uske mann mein hai

mann se jo raavan nikaale
ram uske mann mein hai..."

filmed on: SHAHRUKH KHAN lyrics: JAVED AKHTAR original music & vocals: ALLAH RAKHA RAHMAN and shehnai arrangement on the album: USTAD BISMILLAH KHAN



Jai Sriram!

PERL JAMMED

never been like this!

i-P(R)OD

... myself again and over into the deal.


I will eat, and for a change the whole apple shall be mine.

BAT MAGIC

I hate to get into statistics when singing "paeans", so I wouldn't go there.

The piece on cricinfo resulted in goosepimples.

This was inevitable. This was coming.

You still don't want cricinfo to be a messenger of bad news. bad for me...

When this merchant of pure joy walks into the sunset, I repeat geometry and symmetry on turf shall not remain the same.

Generations to come might not see three coeval MRF gems battling it out for the supremacy.

Visualising the scene when dada bids adieu to him, bids adieu to us.



It is a bad feel inside.

carnage

Got to watch a small video, which had the English batsman Dmitri Mascarenhas hoist Yuvraj "Yuvi" Singh for five sweeties in a row. Not since the Matara Marauder Sanat Jayasuriya or the Beefcake Beauty Shahid Afridi from 1996, have I witnessed such a clean clubbing of the cherry.

Dmitri's parents probably would have run out of options when naming him.


Dmitri Massacrenhas rings well.

ash won

I shall forever be proud of you... easily an inspiration for anyone, for me!

Hope this spirit of yours doesnt flag.