Matches (15)
IPL (2)
PSL (3)
Women's Tri-Series (SL) (1)
Women's One-Day Cup (1)
County DIV1 (3)
County DIV2 (4)
USA-W vs ZIM-W (1)

Different Strokes (old)

It’s SHO-time, folks!

Fast bowlers....they are like the reflective eyes of a predating carnivore crossing your nocturnal highway in the distance

Fast bowlers....they are like the reflective eyes of a predating carnivore crossing your nocturnal highway in the distance. They declare themselves unabashed, as if the rest of the team is selected to support them. They ask for attention like a newborn placed in a damp cradle. They charge in, they rant, they sulk, they go over the top, they exult as if there is no tomorrow – and they expect to be loved for it! These hot-headed guys, blessed with pace generating mechanism running on fuel supplied from a colossal ego, can be as terrible to the thin-skinned folk in the dressing room as they are abominable to the opposition players quivering at the crease.
Simply put, they like to play king and, insufferably for some victims, are often allowed that. Rightly so, to be fair (or unfair – who cares!). For they often have what others only fantasise of having – an ability to strike like the king cobra; when the victim knows it is generally too late. None does any of these better than Shoaib Akhtar though.
A star was born when Hurricane Akhtar castled Indian batting mainstays Rahul Dravid and Sachin Tendulkar off successive deliveries at the Eden Gardens during the inaugural Asian Test championship match in 1999. He made his mark the previous year when his team visited the land of White Lightning. But it was against the archrivals of Pakistan that Shoaib Akhtar chose to announce himself. Thus started his arc-lit journey on both facets of the now-famed Shoaib persona – a crushing performance in the first innings to redeem his team, and a part in the bitter controversy involving Sachin’s run-out in the second. Shoaib Akhtar had arrived with genius and ruckus.
Shoaib’s potency as a strike bowler was never in question even during his darkest days in the past couple of months. Leaving alone lesser sides, he is the only bowler besides Shane Bond and Anil Kumble to trouble Australia in all conditions. Love him or hate him, he has done so in both forms of the game, albeit sporadically. And they don’t grudge that other genius Lara the off-and-on bit.
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Staying at the top

Let’s explore a new game

Let’s explore a new game. The oldest one, perhaps. Envisage an amphitheatre with a frighteningly large and admirably levelled playing field. We call it the arena. Standing loftily amidst the eerily quiet arena are a handful of very high pedestals of various shapes and sizes, strewn over the place like islands on the oceanscape. Each such pedestal, or podium, has just enough space for one person at the top. Painfully narrow and disconcertingly steep ladders offer access to each pedestal from all possible sides.
That was a virtual panoramic footage of the arena. For it is not quite so quiet in reality. This amphitheatre of glory is forever overflowing with numerous enthusiastic players desirous of participating in this game. This is no team game – each one for himself. Each player picks a pedestal of his choice and plays with the aim of making a successful climb up the crowded ladders to the top of the pedestal and trying to stay on at the lone spot on offer. If thrown off by a pretender, the player has to try and rework his way to the top from wherever he lands. The choice of pedestal is at the player’s discretion.
There are no other rules to this game. No restrictions are exercised on the number of attempts allowed to an individual player, nor does the cold granite of the amphitheatre know of the reverberations excited by a game-over whistle. It is up to the players when they wish to join the game or leave it.
New challengers come from far-away places and join the game every day, just as a few old ones slowly walk away into the horizon. And yes – recesses are unknown luxuries up there at the coveted pedestal top and on the battlefields that are the ladder rungs.
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Something special

Nothing succeeds like success, and one of the greatest pleasures of life is succeeding when people said you couldn’t

Nothing succeeds like success, and one of the greatest pleasures of life is succeeding when people said you couldn’t. England experienced that better then most when they defeated Australia 2-1 in the Ashes after Glenn McGrath predicted his Australian side would win 5-0. Now it’s Pakistan’s turn to enjoy that kind of pleasure. A 2-0 victory over an English side that came here looking to assert the hype generated by their own press and followers apropos them being the best side in the world is a memorable feat.
Made even more impressive by the fact that it has been achieved by what is at heart a young, emerging side. Even more remarkably, the only time Pakistan was able to field (or chose to rather) its strongest XI (in Faisalabad) they failed to win. The miracle at Multan was achieved without Rana or Afridi, and in Lahore, Younis Khan and Afridi were missing again. Abdul Razzaq, an integral member of this side over the last season, was injured through out. What then, one may ask, forced a result that will have out lived the expectations of even the most sanguine of Pakistani fans?
English adherents will probably tell you it was down to their batsmen showing an inability to adapt to the conditions, throwing their wickets away after getting good starts, often at crucial stages. But test cricket is rarely this cut and dry. The real truth is Pakistan’s success was as much a function of inconsistent common sense from England as was of sheer genius from the likes of Inzamam, Danish Kaneria, Mohammad Yousuf, Shoaib Akhtar and co.
This series has been called a transformation for later two. Both players have been in the past the most preferred choice for what I call the ‘interim honeymoon treatment’ from Pakistan cricket followers. Lauded as one of the best one day, criticised as being no good the very next.
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All-rounder – adept cricketer or anachronism?

Time and again, history shows that man has embarked on futile searches for elusive mythical riches

Time and again, history shows that man has embarked on futile searches for elusive mythical riches. The search for an Indian all-rounder seems have fared no better. And I don’t think that this search is ever going to end, well, not until certain issues are resolved. But far easier would be a simple scope change.
If you ask me, the definition of an all-rounder is all skewed. Ask one the selectors who were in the panel last year to name his favorite all-rounder and I bet I can guess what his answer would be. Oh wait, I was not supposed to write that. But to my defense, I think this mindset is typical of any average Indian, who would define an all-rounder as a batsman who can bowl at least 5 overs a day and keep the batsmen quiet and take wickets from time to time. So, the focus in the sub-continent seems on finding players who would contribute both with the ball and the bat. And there lies the flaw.
Ten years after Kapil Dev retired, we have still not understood that all-rounders are made and not born. None of the “all-rounders” that India has chosen lately, can do a Chris Cairns and walk in on the basis of one skill set alone. And that is probably not their fault either. You see, even without the “all-rounder” tag, we sub-continental players already have our hands full. Our enthusiasm for the game while we grow up, acts like a double edged sword. We learn our cricket in the streets where the game is typically one dimensional by direction (i.e. run scoring is on only one side of the wicket) and sixer is almost always "local". The batsmen are constrained by the surrounding buildings and the glass windows. While such a scenario could ideally breed discipline, it actually brings with it some evils that are hard to exorcise as the years go by. The bowlers too do not get anything positive out of the rubber or the taped ball.
So when we graduate to playing organized cricket, we are still stuck with these shortcomings. And it does not help that our coaching seems to be geared totally into pushing players into the ground at the shortest possible time. For example, some of the schools in Chennai are hot beds of cricket activity with full time coaching staff and groundsmen, with but it has been years since we have had a regular in the team, in fact, not since my man Srikkanth. Where do all these school boy cricketers go?
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Ganguly's stiff hip and other stories.

A spinner came along, and gave it flight

Cricketing topics you must admit make for the best conversations. For seemingly no real reason you can keep talking about the game. Frequently, when you run out of topics of current interest, periods of nostalgia drift in. And then, your thoughts take totally different turns and the dialogue takes on a completely different tone. Topics merge into one another and everything appears to make complete, continuous sense. A sort of soothing, equal music.
A few days back, a friend and I were talking about how we learnt to play our cricket. The conversation gradually turned to players' mannerisms we'd picked up somewhere along the line during our so-called cricketing lives. He said, as a kid, he'd try imitating Gavaskar. On a hunch, I laughed and asked him whether it was the settling into his stance part that he would attempt copying. He said Yes. Curious parallels like these somehow increase the pace of the Cricketing Conversation. The mood is lightened, frequently, you are chuckling, the world appears a sunnier place, Bangalore suddenly feels like Kerala etc. And, this got me thinking.
It is remarkable how uncomfortable I used to feel when batting (as a kid or even sometimes I must admit as a teenager) if I did not get the time to do the Gavaskar-settling-into-his-stance bit. It partly explained why I could never bat in the Nets. There was simply no time for you to settle into your stance. But, actual matches were different. As the bowler shuffled back to his run, the left leg would already be in place, the right leg would soon swing compactly into place right behind it. The process seemed to give you some sort of presiding authority over bowlers. The bowler about to start off on his run, you sliding your right leg into place. You felt a proper batsman. Settled in your stance, the reference point to your strokes all nice and balanced. You viewed the slips with disdain. Your mind occupied a high plane where edges didn't exist.
That was before the bowler bowled. If the ball was full and on leg, you went smartly forward and drove. On-drove. Once the stroke was completed, the important bit remained. You lifted your back leg and struck a pose. Graham Gooch, driving Malcolm Marshall.
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Optimised one-day cricket: vision 2007

Welcome to the future

Welcome to the future. This is the 2007 Cricket World Cup. India are playing against the hosts at Trinidad. Chris Gayle, on a recent high of one-day form, opens the batting. Marking his guard, he looks up to see Harbhajan Singh ambling in and handing over his hat to Aleem Dar. Gayle stands motionless for a moment or two, and then takes strike gingerly. The only 'Cool' guy standing near the batting crease seems to be the opposition's decision maker Mohammad Kaif, who has been nominated by official skipper Rahul Dravid to lead for this match on the basis of his spot-on interpretation of West Indian players' habits.
The West Indies struggle to post a target of 242 on a batting beauty, thanks to a meagre 55 runs resulting from the decisive 20 overs of 'strangulator' Harbhajan and R P Singh-on-song which also yielded a few wickets. Post lunch, the home team starts their warm-up to defend whatever little was put on board mainly through the middle-over frantic running of one-drop Ricardo Powell and skipper Sarwan. Darren Powell feels out his shoulders while eyeing the Indian dressing room. Cricket watchers around the globe await an answer to their lunch-break question from the TV channels on predicting the first three batsmen for India in today's match.
Dravid and Irfan Pathan walk out to initiate the Indian run-chase. Lara, soon to be replaced by supersub Collymore and playing in his last ODI tournament, steals a knowing glance at Sarwan as he is proven to be the one who got it right over the lunch table brainstorming. It was Virender Sehwag who accompanied a resurgent Mumbai veteran as opener in the India-South Africa match a few days back where they chased 350 and fell short by 23 runs mainly due to the end-over strikes of Andre Nel. Sarwan signals the number 'eight' to his fielders, indicating the plan to be adopted. (Reminds me of Javed Miandad intimidating English batsmen by shouting 'number 42' at a rampaging Qadir standing at the end of his run-up.)
By the way, Harbhajan was given this modified name in 2006 after the 'tight-fisted'ness of his bowling action extended to his economy rate, while the other stingy Singh is better known in cricket circles as Rudra 'Pigeon' Singh. And the Mumbai veteran is none other than Ajit Agarkar.
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This Delicious Anticipation...

The start of a Test series always leaves me a little breathless with anticipation

The start of a Test series always leaves me a little breathless with anticipation. More so if it involves India. I might sound like an old fogey well past his use-by date but, here you go - I love Test cricket, and while one day cricket is always enjoyable to watch and even more fun to play, there is nothing that beats the sheer joy of sitting and watching five days of Test cricket.
On the eve of the first Test between India and Sri Lanka at Chennai, Cyclone Baaz threatens to dampen that enthusiasm a bit. But, only a bit. After ten days of watching powerplays and last ten overs and typical one day fun, the Real Stuff is here. And if you want to find out just why I love Test cricket, then you can.....
Flashback time. July 2005, the start of the Ashes. I remember hurrying home to catch the final session, refusing to step out of the house on Saturday or Sunday evening, in short, becoming a couch potato. By the time of the final Test, my wife was convinced that I had lost it. "But India aren't even playing", she kept repeating, a little perplexed. "This is England and Australia, for Gods' Sake!"
Enough has been written about that stunning series, so I shall be brief. While watching Day 5 of the Second Test, which England finally won by two runs, my palms were sweaty, my mouth was dry, and I refused to touch a single button on the remote control. Ditto for the Third and Fourth Tests. As for the Final Test, I rushed home early, wondered what Australia was thinking when they went off the field for bad light, and watched as England collapsed in their second innings until Pietersen rescued them. I am now wating for the DVD to be available on Indian shores.
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Damn you, Inzy!

I blame Inzamam-ul-Haq!

Damn you, Inzamam-ul-Haq! Why can't you be meaner, spew venom and act hostile? You and you men are slowly killing off one of the most mouth-watering rivalry franchises in sports today. You and your men are taking the sheen off the India-Pakistan rivalry.
Remember the sentiment surrounding any India-Pakistan cricket match in the 80s and 90s? A more explosive mix of jingoism and pure hatred would be tougher to find even in the 1930s in Germany. We hated the Pakistani players and every match became a war. People cried and tore their wigs out when close matches ended in the enemy's pocket. Pakistanis celebrated India's defeat to Sri Lanka in the 1996 World Cup semi-finals, and Indians were ecstatic at Australia thrashing Pakistan in the 1999 final.
After 1999, terrorism touched new heights. In addition, the men in Delhi donned saffron, while the men in Islamabad donned fatigues. Cricket ties were suspended for almost half a decade. But then 9/11 happened. 13/12 happened. The saffron tinge got milder and the fatigues expressed a desire to be replaced by salwar-kurtas. India and Pakistan started playing cricket again.
But hello, what on earth was this? Where was the edge? Where was the venom? The change in the nature of the India-Pakistan rivalry was nothing less than a tectonic shift. People on both sides of the border started treating it like just a cricket rivalry rather than a war. It became tame, even threatening to be tamer than the much-hyped-but-actually-tepid-and-wannabe ANZACS rivalry.
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So how good ARE England?

September 12, 2005: The Ashes are England's, the crowds were celebrating in the streets, and numerous and loud were the English fans claiming their team as the world's number one Test nation

September 12, 2005: The Ashes are England's, the crowds were celebrating in the streets, and numerous and loud were the English fans claiming their team as the world's number one Test nation. Having defeated Australia, on the back of 18 months of glory, there seemed to be some weight to their words...
December 1, 2005: Less than 3 months later, and not even England's blindly patriotic commentators seem to want to push the case of their countrymen’s world dominance. England have been worn down in Pakistan, and even with the help of some very ordinary umpiring decisions, have been made to look very average. All of this begs the question - how good ARE England?
In the hype after September, many things were spoken about regarding England's victory: the amazing all-round efforts of Andrew Flintoff, the strangling bowling of Ashley Giles, the dominant batting of Kevin Pieterson, the bounce & aggression of Stephen Harmison... and so on and so forth. English journalists, starved for so long of any victories over Australia found it all a little too much, and all players who took part in the series were placed upon pedestals and worshipped as heroes. Their Australian counterparts doing their best to not seem like bad sports, commended England on their victory, and demanded the Australian team make immediate changes to avoid anything like this happening again. The resulting articles though left out or understated a few important details of the Ashes.
1) Australia weren't at their best. Anyone who tries to tell you the contrary quite simply hasn't seen Ricky Ponting in good form, Glenn McGrath fully fit, or Adam Gilchrist smearing the best bowlers in cricket to all parts of the ground. Much was written about how the Aussies played "only as good as they were allowed to", but this is only half the truth. Coming into the series, Australia had rested their players, correctly anticipating a gruelling series. This lay off after crushing victories over New Zealand did them no favours though, and with the limited tour games they had arranged, at no point before the Tests did they really regain the momentum they'd had before leaving the Southern Hemisphere.
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The graph of a cricketer’s life

In the last couple of years I haven’t been following cricket as closely as I earlier used to, but every once in a while something happens (a brilliant Lara or Gilchrist innings, a halfway decent knock by Sachin, a dominant performance by a team -

In the last couple of years I haven’t been following cricket as closely as I earlier used to, but every once in a while something happens (a brilliant Lara or Gilchrist innings, a halfway decent knock by Sachin, a dominant performance by a team - usually Australia, latterly England) that gets my pulse racing again. Currently, that something is Steve Waugh’s wonderful autobiography Out of My Comfort Zone, the 700-odd pages of which I devoured in a day and a half.
One thing that struck me most forcefully about the book was that here is a man who has only just turned 40, and who might well have lived only half his life (or less) so far - and yet he has already published a mammoth, comprehensive memoir. If the subject of this autobiography had been a 40-year-old businessman, or actor, or a celebrity in almost any other profession, it would have seemed gratuitous and marketing-driven. But in Waugh’s case it doesn’t at all seem inappropriate. And this got me thinking about how peculiarly (and poignantly) skewed the trajectory of a top sportperson’s life is compared to that of most other people.
From a very early age, Waugh’s life centred around sports. In the book, with great feeling he recounts his early competitive bouts with twin Mark (including scooter-racing down the driveway), his decision to give up soccer in favour of cricket, an early dressing-down from Barry Richards who wanted him to cut out the big hits during a practice session. For years before he entered our collective consciousness in the mid-1980s, he was focusing his energies on becoming good enough to represent Australia. Then one day, two decades later, he played the last shot of his international career, watched the ball land in Tendulkar’s hands at square leg, and knew that his days as an international cricketer were over. And he was still only 38 years old.
Now I’m not for a moment suggesting that Waugh has already done all the most notable things of his life. He will probably go on to explore and find fulfilment in other areas of life now, discover talents that have hitherto been untapped, spend more time with his wife and children, and on social causes like Udayan. I’m sure he’ll continue to be involved with cricket too - as administrator, coach, or in some other capacity. But the point is, his star in the firmament has already been set. At a relatively young age, he has already accomplished everything he will be best remembered for at the end of his life.
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