100th post! \o/

That's right. After two and a half years of much passion, procrastination, and intense love/hate, this blog has finally reached 100 posts. \o/

I was hoping to post something special, was hoping it would have to do with India, but right now? With Ireland having pulled off a Victory of (Pure) Awesomeness against England? I have to talk about it.

So I was talking about letting go of intensity and sitting back on a huge score, and - well, England certainly didn't seem guilty of that, at least in the beginning, skittling through Ireland's top-order, and at 111/5, I just yawned and thought "same old, same old" and switched off the TV. About half an hour later I was getting messages, asking me to watch O'Brien go after the English bowlers.

I did, and wow. I mean, WOW. It was the kind of innings that just seemed absolutely effortless; like a sort of cricketing Midas, every stroke that he played seemed to go over the ropes. And it wasn't like he was just throwing his bat at everything, oh no, there was a method to the madness, or perhaps a madness to the method, and when they took on the Batting Powerplay and unleashed hell on the English bowlers, it was a magnificent sight. Finally, a batting team that's used its Batting PP well! 62 runs came off five overs, and that turned around everything for Ireland.

That's not overshadowing Mooney's efforts at the end. He seemed determined to run his partners out, but his little cameo - not to mention Kusack's efforts with O'Brien - made sure Kevin's efforts meant something. This is the kind of temperament befitting a regular international team, people.

So, where now for Ireland? They play India on Sunday, and as much as I enjoyed Ireland's performance today, I'm definitely holding out for a big victory from India. Definitely Ireland'll be thinking, we can do this. They just completed the highest ever successful run-chase in World Cup history. They must be feeling like they can do anything. But where's the line between self-belief and heady over-confidence? That's something the Irish team will need to figure out over the weekend.

For now, though, celebration.

(As for England? I don't really feel sorry for them - seriously, I've found even Australia and Pakistan much easier to sympathise with, I have no idea why - but they've had a tough week. First that unexpectedly close win over Netherlands, the physically and emotionally sapping tie against India, then this loss against Ireland. And they've got a tough one against SA this Sunday, and the Saffers are looking like a million dollars, like possibly the best unit in the World Cup right now.)

So, this is kind of humiliating.

I will not say much about our tie with England, since I screamed so much that night at the TV I woke up with a sore throat and almost lost my voice for a whole day. I do not have much else to expend regarding that match.

But! I will bring up some things that are related, though.

Today is the England v Ireland match. England were going great guns; looked set for 360, 370 maybe.

Guess what they ended up with? 327/8.

It doesn't matter that England are going to win, and win easily: what matters is that the Irish bowlers were able to restrict the lineup just as well, or even better, than India's much feted attack. I don't know about you, and I certainly mean no disrespect to the Irish team - they're pretty damn awesome - but still. Isn't that a bit humiliating? A teensy little bit, maybe?

I think out of all the verbal diarrhoea that Sunday's match inspired, this article by Kumble just sums it up. Just look at what he has to say:

The lessons for India are clear: On a good pitch, their main strike bowlers, Zaheer Khan and Harbhajan Singh, must deliver, like they have on numerous occasions. This time too, Zaheer turned the game around in the end, but, that also brings us to the other vital lesson: They cannot afford to relax.

I suspect India lost those quick wickets in the late middle-order because they felt they had enough runs. A similar attitude was apparent when they were fielding. It seemed like they just couldn't believe that any team would chase down 338.

That's it. That's all that needs to be said. It's perfect.

I wasn't the least bothered when our lower order imploded at the end of our innings while watching the match, because, hey? 338? More than defendable, right? Turns out the guys out there shared that viewpoint, and we were all proved wrong.

So can it all just come down to keeping up the intensity, then? I've seen this very bowling attack produce miracles. Hell, even on Sunday they nearly won us back the match after having taken it to the point of no return!

I don't know. But that, right up there? I'm in total agreement, and nothing more that can be said about this will ever ring truer, or even matter; it's all up the boys who turn out in blue over the next three weeks, and what they do.

Still on the Ashes

I thought there was nothing funnier than Kevin Pietersen hitting a double-century in Australia against Australia, before I rediscovered this little gem:



A little out-dated, but still priceless!

The absolute pinnacle atop the pinnacle of... something.

So. Let's talk Ashes, shall we?

Today was the first day of the first Test, in Brisbane. Peter Siddle got three wickets in three balls - Alastair Cook, Matt Prior and Stuart Broad, causing me much delight, because, dude, fabulously hand-picked victims - and England ended up folding for 260. The Australian openers sauntered to a cool 25/0 before stumps, and look nicely poised for a team that got whitewashed by a team that struggled to win against a team that got whitewashed by the lowest ranked Test team in the world.

Yeah.

I'm not going to talk about what actually happened at the 'Gabba today because I didn't see it and there are more well-informed observers who can tell you all about it. Today, I decided, I was going to get to the bottom of this whole Ashes shindig. Someone asked me the other day what the Ashes was really all about - I'm suddenly considered an authority on cricket in my university, it's crazy, especially when I stand there blinking when their questions get too technical, because my expertise in the technicalities extend only to extricating myself out of the tangled mess of another Ravi Shastri metaphor - and I had to admit that all I knew was that it had something to do with England, Australia, Test cricket, a teeny-tiny urn containing the burnt remains of an old stump, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and a LOT of empty bravado.

But not much else, really.

For the shame!

So it was that I decided to do a bit of research.

As is the (very unprofessional) norm, I looked it up on Wikipedia. This is what it had to say:

The Ashes is a Test cricket series played between England and Australia. It is international cricket's most celebrated rivalry and dates back to 1882. It is currently played biennially, alternately in the United Kingdom and Australia. Cricket being a summer sport, and the venues being in opposite hemispheres, the break between series alternates between 18 and 30 months. A series of "The Ashes" comprises five Test matches, two innings per match, under the regular rules for Test match cricket. If a series is drawn then the country already holding the Ashes retains them.

The series is named after a satirical obituary published in a British newspaper, The Sporting Times, in 1882 after a match at The Oval in which Australia beat England on an English ground for the first time. The obituary stated that English cricket had died, and the body will be cremated and the ashes taken to Australia. The English media dubbed the next English tour to Australia (1882–83) as the quest to regain The Ashes.

[...]

The urn is erroneously believed by some to be the trophy of the Ashes series, but it has never been formally adopted as such and Bligh always considered it to be a personal gift. Replicas of the urn are often held aloft by victorious teams as a symbol of their victory in an Ashes series, but the actual urn has never been presented or displayed as a trophy in this way. Whichever side holds the Ashes, the urn normally remains in the Marylebone Cricket Club Museum at Lord's since being presented to the MCC by Bligh's widow upon his death.

Since the 1998–99 Ashes series, a Waterford Crystal representation of the Ashes urn has been presented to the winners of an Ashes series as the official trophy of that series.

Ah ha! So Douglas Adams got it wrong, did he? That sorry little urn does not contain the Ashes of the Wooden Pillar of the Wicket Gate! I feel like my teenage years have been violated.

So much fuss for this? It reminds me of a once-renowned clique trying to maintain illusions of their ~exclusivity~ and relevance in a world that's moved on and doesn't really give two shits anymore. Damn Indian money and eyeballs, we are still the most important things in this sport! So let's milk this tradition for all it's worth, even if we are playing for a tiny fake urn every two years!

Y'know, this can be a good thing, too. It's amusing to see/hear people compare any decent rivalry in international cricket to the Ashes (Ashes marketing dudes need to take classes), and occasionally these two teams produce sensational contests. I watched highlights of the Ashes '05 a couple of years back, and it isn't possible for me to love cricket any more than I did while watching them. It was the cricketing equivalent of rainbows and bunnies and unicorns. Of course, after that, I watched the Ashes '09, and that was the cricket-equivalent of a three-week long Pharmacology lecture. Like watching Rahul Dravid on freakin valium. God.

Probably the most amusing thing is the testosterone-sloshing, uh, I mean, the 'verbal duels' before the series. Because, lord, it is funny. Everybody builds it up so much that when somebody farts during an Ashes Test, it's a special fart, because, you know, it's THE Ashes.

The contest for the tiny fake urn has started off well this year. I eagerly await more amusement, and hopefully, some great cricket.

Clicking of the cosmic tumblers

It's been a nice few months without cricket - exams, a month-long trip to the USA (where if you mention "cricket" you will be handed a bottle of insect repellent), and a healthy dose of disgusted disinterest pretty much wiped cricket off my agenda. Things have been fairly crazy, India and Sri Lanka are playing each other to the point of hair-rending boredom, the usual cricket is corrupt! (seriously, cricinfo? The IPL Mess? That's very educated and so enlightening. I'm going to imagine you're talking about some communal meals programme that Lalit Modi very kindly started for all the players) cricket is racist! (you nominate a guy even you don't like. Then imagine just how much you loathe the organisation you're nominating him to) nouveau-riche India is holding the cricket world in its filthy, corrupt hands (Hi, rabid anti-BCCI agenda! Also, BCCI =\= India. Seriously.) and all that jazz. However! I'm back, and looking forward to watching some cricket after the self-imposed exile. Before that, of course, a few things need to be pushed off the table:

Oh yeah.

Despite everything, did I ever stop watching the IPL? Nosiree. Anything that has "Chennai" tagged on to it should be the best, and wow, were we ever awesome. Halfway through the tournament, only thick-skinned optimists (such as yours truly) hoped they would reach the semifinals. I ventured a belligerent "they could even win, you know", only to take it back almost immediately with an apologetic grimace.

But CSK, man.

Perhaps one of the most gratifying things about watching the IPL was that, despite the fracas going on in the background, and all the jabbering about Twenty20 as a flashy chip of paint off the strong and proud edifice of cricket (listen to me gag... or not), the players (the ones who mattered anyway) took it seriously. There is some payoff to all the nights I spent up, all the emotion, and all the time I invested, when I see someone like Dhoni literally punch his face in intense emotion after winning that game, after practically pummelling his team into the semifinals from an impossible situation. From seeing someone like Sachin Tendulkar (been there, done that, bought half-a-million T shirts- Sachin Tendulkar) risk worsening his injured hand just so he could play the final for the MI. To hear from both captains what the game meant to them in the post-match ceremony. As long as we can get commitment like that from the dudes that matter, the twenty-two dudes on the field, then I am willing to ignore pretty much everything else. I will remember the IPL for that emotion, and will continue watching it for the same.

Not to mention opening my eyes to the potential of quite a few players - Ashwin (who I was delighted to find lives in the same area of the city that I do, and is a super-smart school-topper-college-graduate), and, of course, Dougie Bollinger, who may be the Awesomest Person that ever Awesomed.

After that, the Twenty20 World Cup. I watched India's league matches, and assured by Raina's Century of Awesomeness against South Africa, I left for the US the night before we officially started our Super Eight campaign. For weeks I had no clue about what was going on in the tournament, as all the US papers were interested in talking about was baseball, some dude called LeBron James who was making some other dudes in Cleveland very angry, with little by-notes informing the presumably disinterested audience about the happenings in the world of tennis. I was finally able to find a paper that was published exclusively for NRIs, and even in that, buried somewhere in the back-pages was an article titled "England win World Twenty20" followed by a grinning Paul Collingwood holding up the trophy.

If you were anywhere in Southwestern Texas at that time in Mid-May, you might have heard my resounding cry of "England won a world title??!!"

(Seriously, people. I'm sorry. I'm still thinking the whole thing is some kind of cheese-induced dream. And USA eats a lot of cheese.)

((... England?... ))

Not that I expected India to win the title, or anything - although I'd hoped they would - but I'd placed even Zimbabwe with a higher chance of getting the trophy than England. Cha, now there's a perfect record permanently marred (Jokes apart, congratulations to the English team, who now suddenly seem to be in the form of their life - although even that is not enough to provide immunity to the Loss to Bangladesh Out Of The Blue Syndrome).

However! I did not see 90% of the tournament, so I have no further opinion on it. But what's a blog without shameless pandering of opinion, right? So let me tell you of what I did see that May.

The U S of A. It was an interesting trip, and I have a few observations:

1. It is huge. And I mean, HUGE. It crosses three different time-zones, which is kind of a bother when you're trying to cover as much as you can in as little time as possible. It is not fun to keep adjusting clock every other day, and oh, the jet lag? Unforgiving. (there is a trememdous amount of flying to be done. I, for instance, took thirteen flights within the US. My spine hasn't forgiven me since.)

2. As huge as it is, there is very, very little in between. Most people live in suburbs that are several kilometres away from the hub of the city, which means taking out the car and going for a long drive just to shop for groceries. Or clothes. Or go to school. This is completely weird, at least to me, because Indian cities like to fold on top of themselves, rather than really spread. I can't walk more than a few metres from my home without hitting several dozen shops catering to your every possible need squeezed together and spilling onto the pavement; a bus terminus and an MRTS terminus a few roads over; a hospital, and no less than three different schools.

3. Speaking of: the cars. There are just so many of them. Even high school kids. Except in a few select areas, public transport seems to be a near non-entity. Which, again, weirded me out, because, hey. For all our faults, we at least have an extensive public transport system.

4. There is a strange kind of beauty to the vastness, too: the climates and the surroundings change from place to place -- you might be in the scorching (well, compared to Chennai, rather pleasant, I thought, and cackled in mad glee that I was conveniently missing the worst of the Chennai summer) heat of the Nevada desert; another day in chill, windy New York; another day driving through Idaho and Wyoming where the land seems to hug the sky in a spectacular union of clouds, mountains, sleet and rain.

5. You really have to admire the American tradition of preserving and promoting their natural heritage. A visit to a National Park there is an exhilarating experience. I visited the Niagara Falls, Yellowstone Park - and it snowed! - and the Grand Canyon, some of the most breath-taking things I've ever seen, or ever will see.

6. They eat. A lot. Practically everything available there is super-sized. I ate the largest slice of pizza I'd ever had in my life (took pictures and everything before I took my first bite, too) and had the pizza guy tell me it was medium-sized. Medium-sized! Coffee, cheese, sugar, chocolate abound. McDonald's. Arby's. Wendy's. Subway. All just a few metres apart, literally, and so cheap; it occurred to me just how easy it would be to lose yourself in the food, how easy it would be to put a welcome sign on yourself to conditions ranging from atherosclerosis to stroke.

7. American Born Desis have the weirdest conceptions about India. First off, an almost Pavlovian reaction of supreme disdain to anything Indian (a muted version of which you can detect in their immigrant parents). Secondly, a habit of ending sentences with, "...oh, do they have that in India yet? Do they allow that in India yet?" (Because we're obviously Timbuktu circa 1845.) Thirdly, some of the weirdest theories. Writing papers about our infamous fairness creams ads, wherein our "obsession with fairness was obviously a consequence of the inferiority complex we still suffer from due to the centuries of subjugation by the British". Pop!Sociology, I have found your messiahs.

8. Faux-politeness. "Good Morning, how are we today?" "Fine, thank you" seems to be the traditional greeting there. Shop attendants. Airport security officials. Random people on the street. Everywhere. They go, "oh, I like your shirt; just where did you get that design?" and I'm sort of dumbstruck, because that's a complete stranger I'm just passing by, and we're just so unused to such manners from all quarters that it's doubly frustrating to come back to India and face people who obviously fell asleep when road rules were being taught; who spit at your feet and give you hostile glares if you so much as make a request for them to move so you can walk past. The politeness is all a facade - on a level, you're aware of that and it's disturbing, but still.

9. ... and that's all she wrote. About the USA, anyway.

Because, cricket? Right, cricket.

I saw some of the Fateful Zimbabwe Tour. Mr. Srikkanth, were you really kidding us? You think you could just slap on India colours to a bunch of IPL successes (Manpreet Gony and Yusuf Pathan ought to have provided sufficient deterrent to that method of selection by now) and they'll be all "look at our youth power! we're totally ready to fill in full time roles in the national team!"? Personally, they played like India A's second reserve team in an off-season. Cha.

I did see the Asia Cup. The India-Pakistan game did restore some of my faith in the game, and 'sides, I had a good time speculating about Obviously-Alternate-Universe-Century-Hitting Shahid Afridi. Our ODI team is just not looking settled: batsmen seem to be okay, apart from Sehwag busting his shoulder every other day, Yuvraj's happily feeding and twittering away, Rohit Sharma is the absolute worst excuse for an international cricketer I have ever seen. Our all-rounders are Yusuf Pathan and Ravindra Jadeja, an unenviable choice. I have no idea what's our bowling attack any more, except that it's Zaheer Khan, et. al.

But what's ZK now? A pretty, pretty princess that keeps falling on some pea practically every other week, missing important series just when she's working herself upto some real bowling form. And of course, he had to go to Jo'burg for rehab. And he even mentioned something about catching the football wc final there! I swear I saw red.

Also, just a word here: Mr. Haigh's rant raised quite a few hackles, but I just laughed and laughed, because as soon as I read it I was reminded of this:

And now? The Test series v Sri Lanka to look forward to, followed by ODI series no. 87678 between India and Lanka (with NZ making a guest appearance. Gawd.)

Will we win? Will Mahendra Singh Dhoni's marriage affect his performance? Will it affect his team's performance? Will it create more fissures in an already cracked team? Will India be able to exorcise the ghosts of 2008? Will Sreesanth ever get to bowl again for India? Will Ishant Sharma ever get a proper haircut?

As Arnab Goswami's dulcet tones discuss these burning issues, I will turn off the TV till July 18, and I will hum, "When I get older, I will be stronger..."

Because I can.

(Also, I dedicate this post to my best friend, A, for nagging, encouraging, and prodding me back to blogging. Love you and hope you like. :D)

Oh my god

Chuck all clever titles, this is exactly how I feel : Oh my god.

So I've been having a craptastic first week of the year, so there's not been much time to spare on cricket, but the Moores-Pietersen spat did serve as an amusing aside in the five minutes after dinner for the last few nights.

Until?

Until Moores and Pietersen decided to resign from their respective roles of coach and captain of the English team.

I was immediately motivated into cricinfo-ing the matter.

Moores leaving was seen by many as a foregone conclusion, especially considering how Unshakable Pietersen was just this much away from stamping his feet and throwing a temper tantrum if Peter didn't leave. Plus, Moores doesn't have a great track record as the English coach to back him up, either - some of which could be his fault, too. But for Pietersen, Harbinger of Fresh Hope for the English Team, to resign as well? That's... that's just a sucker punch for the ECB.

Apparently Pietersen resigned because the ECB didn't respond quickly enough to his demands. Uh... sure, KP. Rebel against the strongly-ECB backed coach and expect the board to immediately bend over. That's not whacked out at all. It's funny now to look upon all the flood of articles, opinion and conjecture that came out when Pietersen was appointed captain, following Vaughan's teary resignation. Funny that all of that seems to amount to nothing barely five months later.

What will the ECB do now? No captain, no coach, major leadership crisis, the Ashes barely six months away, and oh, look! Is that a kitchen sink I see flying toward Mr. Clarke and co.'s collective heads?

Whatever the outcome, the matter promises more delicious drama to come. :D

Plus, SA lost to Aussies in Sydney! By 103 runs! I don't know what to make of the result, since I didn't follow the match, but some obvious things stand out: Australia get to hold onto their official ICC no. 1 ranking for a little while longer, South Africa seem lost without Smith, the Saffers suck at playing dead-rubbers, and why the hell was McKenzie leading the team instead of Mark Boucher?

And also, coming to Ranji cricket? It's Mumbai v UP for the final.

Mumbai, going through? Okay. Fine.

Tamil Nadu, losing to UP after scoring 445 in the first innings (after being freakin 296/2 at the end of day 1), having UP 63/3 at one stage, Kaif and Raina in the hut, and allowing two players with first-class averages in the mid-20s to build a 300+ run partnership, dropping several chances along the way?

Unforgivable!

Of course, with Dinesh Kaarthick leading, I was surprised they even made it to the semis. What, DK, huh? Expecting Balaji to pull out another 5 for 7 spell like he did against Bengal from the Alternate Dimensions of Magical Matchwinning Spells? It ain't that easy, ya know. Sheesh, the awesomeness of MukundnVijay, Badrinath, Balaji... all of it is wasted on you. Utterly wasted. Don't even ask why I dislike DK, I just do. Urupudaadhunga. Cha!

What a first week. I hope things get better, personally and on the cricketing front.