2S
Techie. Writer. Photographer.
Archive for sport
January 27, 2008 at 9:02 pm · Filed under cricket, tributes
When the cricketing world heard of Adam Gilchrist’s retirement, they went from a state of shock to nothing short of mourning. Many might have even wept. I’m not surprised why - if I was there at the Adelaide Oval, watching the wicketkeeper batsman walking back to the rooms, head held high - the Baggy Green perched firmly in pride on it - knowing fully that I won’t see him wearing it again, a tear of respect would’ve left me too.
Respect. It’s a word a real die-hard traditional fan of cricket would preserve for few. Forget Dhoni, forget Boucher. The world has never - and will never - see an opening batsman, a hard-hitter and a wicketkeeper of such fine quality, both skills coming together to such perfection.
But this isn’t about Gilchrist the batsman. It isn’t even about the ‘keeper. Much has been said and written about his freaky ability to juggle both responsibilities, of ’setting a benchmark’ and whatnot.
It’s about Gilchrist, the magnificent sportsman, whose greatness was only underlined by the humility of his achievements in an otherwise arrogant Australian side. For me, the very fact that Gilchrist walks when he edges, or only appeals for ones he genuinely thinks is out, is a mark of a fine man. A cricketer who has his feet so firmly grounded in the ethics of the game, and if it weren’t for the likes of Gilly and Dravid, one would refuse to associate anything gentlemanly with the game of cricket.
And that’s what needs to be underscored. Australia might look into their reserves and maybe even pick a class wicketkeeper who could match Gilchrist’s record. Maybe they’ll find him to be a better batsman than Gilchrist - no one knows. But it’s perfectly safe to say that, there are very few gems in the game who are so loved even by the opposition.
For that, my friends Down Under, let me tell you that Gilchrist is simply irreplaceable.
December 11, 2007 at 9:48 pm · Filed under cricket
Mere numbers in excess of 708 speak very little of who Muttiah Muralitharan is. Forget the fact, that he’s a magician capable of turn on a glossy, glass wicket in the monsoons. Forget the fact that he’s obviously the best spinner to play the game. And, for a moment, forget the fact that Sri Lanka, in atleast a few generations before and after him, will never be able to find a bowler of his capability, determination and hunger for wickets.
As class batsmen would testify, the ‘optical illusion of throwing’ is quite irrelevant. Deformity or not, the man is a bowing genius, and 708 is just a mathematical milestone, a simple numerical testimonial of what he really means.
Having every delivery in his bag of tricks - the doosra, the straighter-one, the hugely spinning offie, the quicker one, the loop - for the batsman, it becomes almost impossible to read him. Reducing the pitch and a batsman’s reputation to non-entities, he hops in a very uncomplicated manner to pick wicket after wicket. Honestly, if there ever existed weapons of vast destruction, one needn’t look further than Murali.
His greatness doesn’t lie in the magic he weaves or the havoc he wreaks, but in his humility and modesty. When he isn’t maiming batting cards on a routine day at the office, Muralitharan divides his time between innovating a new murderous delivery, fighting poverty, and clearing controversies associated with his action, three activities which would remain with him till the end. It’s uncannily ironic that the one bowler who has been targeted the most by experts and critics around the world has risen to prove them wrong. Today, enough ink has been spent towards his glorification, and continues to be spent, as he goes past hurdle after hurdle, to a pinnacle that only he can ascend.
While the cricketing world celebrates his achievement, and while batsmen around the world continue to struggle against him, one must come to terms with a simple reality: with the likes of Inzamam and Lara out of world cricket, and barring the big-Indian-troika of batsmanship, few batsman around the world exist who are capable of dominating Muttiah Muralitharan.
Simply because, quenching his thirst for wickets is a straightforward impossibility.
December 9, 2007 at 9:00 pm · Filed under cricket
A run riot. India ended the day at 350+, Ganguly still unbeaten and a jittery Karthik for company. That was yesterday, all about recovery.
Today, they plundered.
Considering that Karthik isn’t exactly the most confident batsman around right now, his twenty-odd runs were valuable, in the sense, they contributed to a fifty-run stand with Ganguly. With Karthik gone, one would think that Kumble was simply waiting for Ganguly to make the double century that was long overdue, and then make the declaration himself. In walked Pathan, who - without causing the slightest of distractions - went on to score big himself. As everyone’s eyes turned to Ganguly, who did cross the two-hundred run mark, Pathan danced down the track, sending many a sphere into the stands.
At 198, Ganguly pushed one into the covers, sprinting the first one. As he tapped the willow on the crease and turned back, it was starting to sink in: maiden double ton for a fighter, who, with this innings, has sealed his case in what could be termed as the finest comeback ever in the history of Indian cricket. Brilliant attitude, and the runs did the talking, prompting a name-change from ‘100rav Ganguly’ to ‘200rav Ganguly’.
Pathan, meanwhile, was on the verge of his century too. With Ganguly departing - as Bangalore stood to acknowledge the finest innings they’ve seen in recent times - and Kumble and Harbhajan doing little to worry the scorers, Pathan stood at the other end at 96. When a nervous Ishant Sharma walked out to face Arafat - who, on debut, had devoured five Indian batsmen, a feat that cannot be appreciated less - Pathan walked with him. ‘Stay put’, he must’ve said. The 6″4 Delhi pacer saw a few ones out, bringing Pathan on strike at the start of the over.
Irfan Pathan might’ve thought he’ll never get another chance ever. Stepping out, crashing the ball over midwicket for six, he raised his bat in acknowledgment, as a few Paki cricketers went up to congratulate him. It was a fine innings, finer that it seemed, because it came quickly and it allowed a certain Bengal Tiger to score his maiden double.
Interestingly, eleven Pakistani cricketers had silently clapped when Sourav Ganguly scored his two-hundredth run. They weren’t even around when Yuvraj Singh made his century, which - with all due respect to the bowling that doesn’t deserve it - was an innings that demolished both, the bowlers figures and their morale. But when Pathan - with four sixers to his name - made his hundredth run, yours truly was a tad surprised to see the Pakistani players all buddy-buddy with the batsman. Hello? Talk about favoritism.
I don’t expect much webspace to be wasted on this incident, and if truth be told, it might not even be worth the ink. But it pains me to see that on a cricketing field. Batsman walks in, scores a ton and raises the bat. Reason enough to appreciate, one would think. Well, whatever.
The tail didn’t wag, it just didn’t, and India wrapped up well in excess of six hundred, three lefties doing the trick. It gave India a shot at the Pakistani batsmen, with a little under thirty overs of play left, Pathan and Sharma were expected to be in business. While a few tough chances went down, and Sharma struggled to find his feet - literally - before bowling a few beauties at Hameed, Kumble brought himself on from one end, and Ganguly from the other.
Well, the first Kumble over was bludgeoned apart by Butt. Crashing him on the leg side for boundaries, respect for the local lad be damned. But Anil Kumble is the kind of man who brings more than sheer bowling to the wicket. With the leggie comes unmatched intensity, patience and perseverance. Hameed eventually fell, as India had drawn first blood, before Younis Khan walked in, sending a message to the team. No night watchman, folks, I’m here and I want to bat.
While the scoreboard remained stuck on 59/1 for thirty deliveries, and as the scores took a nap or two, the intensity in the match and amongst the Indians was diminishing as quickly as the fading light. Not just the Indians on the field, but the ones off it too. We stifled yawns as the curd-rice from lunch was taking effect, before yawning away to glory, and were about to fall asleep ourselves before the umpires put us out of our misery and clipped the bails out.
A boring end to an otherwise interesting day, where Pathan and Ganguly made mockery of an attack that lacked any respectability except for what arrived in the form of Yasir Arafat’s five-for. And Bangalore had seen an international double-ton.
Incidentally, we met Chacha Cricket, who interestingly showed a bit of attitude to click a snap with him. Brotherhood and common-sense prevailed, and yours truly happily formed a frame with Vis, but not before draping the tri-color over the three of us.
Sorry folks, but chacha, yeh hai India ;o)
Here are a few other snaps of this blogger with the pals (Vis, PJ, N Murthy) and the crowd.
December 8, 2007 at 8:25 pm · Filed under cricket
Sunshine. Blessed, divine sunshine. The gloom, the trepidation of showers, and the possibilities of a juicy wicket and a slippery outfield were all gone. A day tailored, very timely by whatever supernatural force exists up there, for the lovely game of cricket.
The Kolkata stalemate meant that all eyes follow this city, for the third and final Test. India are one up, and would love to seal a series victory against the visiting neighbors. Pakistan, after a horrible start to the series, found a lifeline thanks to the twin-century stand between Misbah-ul-Haq and Kamran Akmal. In fact, that partnership didn’t just steady the Paki ship, it sprung the innings, the match and the series to life, setting it up for the final venue.
Bangalore. She had beckoned. And we were there to answer her.
Pakistan took the intensity right into the first session, as Arafat, with his nagging line and assistance from the track, snapped up the early wickets. One would think that Dravid had the perfect opportunity to break the jinx at this stadium, what he’d refer to as ‘home’ more than the structure he owns in Indiranagar. Arafat, however, thought otherwise. Four wickets in a hurry, and Bangalore went silent. Stunned, really. We watched, open-mouthed, as the ball scraped the bottom edge of Laxman’s bat, crashing into the woodwork. Arafat and the Pakistanis were celebrating as Laxman sauntered to the pavilion like a corpse to the coffin. To say that India were in the worst trouble they’ve ever been this tour is an understatement.
Until he came. And saw. And scored. And how.
As a nervous Karthik had padded up, expecting to see an early outing in the middle, out walked Yuvraj who in all certainty is in the form of his life. In Ganguly he found a stable partner, fresh from a Eden century, as one defiant, experienced lefty met the kind of batsman who murders bowlers effortlessly. Pure talent. Pakistan knew that they had to get this man early.
I can’t match the literature on CricInfo, so I’ll save the reporter’s version of it. From the stands, it was Yuvraj Singh all the way. A fresh, ironed-out white kit that didn’t need mere aesthetics to stand out. Almost every time willow met leather, the sound was sweet, sugarcoated. Ganguly’s timing was impeccable, but the flair, power and flamboyance that Yuvraj brought to the crease really set the tone for the rest of the innings. If Ganguly constructed, Yuvraj demolished. As the senior player milked the bowling, the youth drained it. A hundred run partnership, two fifties in the bag, and to the Pakis, the sunshine didn’t seem as inviting as it did earlier.
When Yuvraj did bring up his hundred - and in what style, I might add - he leapt, mid-air, punching it in delight. As the volcano of happiness erupted, the camera switched straight away to Dilip Vengsarkar. I have always maintained that, if there ever is a challenge that India has and shouldn’t mind, it ought to be which players to pick. The selectors now have an uphill task: with Laxman’s century and Jaffer’s double in Kolkata, and now Yuvraj’s century, who really are the best fourteen or fifteen to play?
Yuvraj raced to the hundred-forties in no time, almost unnoticed, as Ganguly crafted run after run, slashing the odd boundary through the off-side, an area of the field where, as someone famously said, he comes only second to God. When the century did come up, finally, the Bengal Tiger just took a few steps towards his partner who was sprinting towards him. Losing the helmet, he raised his arms and the bat, acknowledging the applause from his team mates.
Meanwhile, Bangalore had erupted, forgetting the Dravid dismissal. Local, shmocal. The city loves Sourav. Period.
Younis Khan and the rest of his team, in the process, were reduced to mere spectators. And if the damage could be mapped physically, Mohammed Sami and Yasir Arafat would have a bruise or two, surely. When the three-hundred run partnership came up, one would think that Yuvraj was favorite to get to two-hundred before lunch tomorrow, before he played a shot he would regret for some time to come. Pouching the ball safely, Faisal Iqbal ran to the bowler, Sami, as Younis Khan joined the huddle, not before congratulating Yuvi on the way. Shaking his head, the ‘irreplaceable’ left-hander walked back.
Needless to say, we were on our feet. What an innings! What strokeplay! I distinctly remember a particular pull-shot right after tea, High backlift, on his toes, shoulder coming into play, and as the ball met bat, it met a fatal blow for the delivery. The ball went scorching past the ground, smearing the ropes before crashing into the midwicket fence. Yuvraj’s willowed stick could not have been more expressive or authoritative. The bowler walked back, and though the cheek wasn’t red, the face showed that he had just been slapped. And slapped hard.
Dinesh Karthik ended the day without any hiccups, as India slumped, struggled, and then recovered in style. Breaking record after another, Yuvraj and Ganguly demonstrated to a thirsty audience what dominance and batsmanship is all about. As a spectator, I was more than pleased. I had come along to the stadium amidst contradictory weather reports that we would see rain today. The last time I walked into Chinnaswamy for a match, Australia amassed 306 before the rain-Gods ruined the match. I was wary of the showers.
Tell you what, it rained today. A torrent of boundaries, and sitting in an elevated stand behind backward point or mid-wicket, depending on which end you’re bowling from, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
There are two kinds of showers I love. One from the Gods. The other from the wicket. Today, I confirm. They’re both divine.
December 2, 2007 at 9:36 am · Filed under cricket, fiction
Harsha Bhogle: So, down we go to Ian Chappell who’s at the presentation
Chappell: Thank you Harsha and we’ve seen an engrossing game here today. I have with me on the dias the Maharaja and Brig. Gen. Peters. First, the losing captain, Captain Russell.
(applause)
Chappell: Nearly got through, eh mate?
Russell: Yes we did, we batted well and put up a good score, and I thought the boys fielded well but the villagers sneaked through somehow. Credit must go to that bastard Bhuvan though for seeing his team through.
Chappell: Where did you think you lost the match?
Russell: We didn’t read Kachra well, to be honest, and he was getting good turn off the track. There was hardly any variable bounce so we ought to have played more horizontal bat shots.
Chappell: So, where do you go from this?
Russell: To my sister’s bedroom and fuck the bitch. (laughs). No, really, we need to work on our game, we have a tough tour coming up against the Madras Sappers in a few months.
Chappell: All the best, don’t forget to collect your cheque.
(applause)
Chappell: And the winning captain, Bhuvan!
Bhuvan: (in Hindi) shukriya sarkaar, maaf karna, hame angrejji nahin aati hai …
Chappell: Never mind Bhu, so, a good win eh?
Bhuvan: jee, aur upar waale ke diya se hum match jeetgaye … Gauri bhi khush hai
Chappell: A good batting track?
Bhuvan: jee, aur upar waale ke diya se hum match jeetgaye … Gauri bhi khush hai
Chappell: And I think you got good support from the crowd as well.
Bhuvan: jee, aur upar waale ke diya se hum match jeetgaye … Gauri bhi khush hai
Chappell: Where do you go from here?
Bhuvan: jee, pehle hum apni maa ke paas jaayenge, phir devi maa ko prasaad chadayenge, phir hum vapas apne gaaon chalejaayenge pehle ki thara
Chappell: Well all the best, thank you, and that’s it from here, it’s back to you Harsha.
Harsha Bhogle: Right, so there you go, and we’ll be back after the break as Sunny shares his thoughts on how Bhuvan’s team will adapt to T20. Stay with us, don’t go away.
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