NO PAIN, NO GAIN

courtesy: ESPNcricinfo

At the time of writing, India are getting quite a beating from Cook’s men at the Oval. The rapid disintegration of the players in the last three tests has been painful to watch; actually, scratch that…I have stayed off from watching most of the days’ play since the Ageas Bowl test. As Devanshu pointed out in a brilliant article recently, the emotional toll that my team’s performance exacts on me can be draining in defeat as exhilarating as it is in victory. After all, I still have not fully recovered from the 0-8 memories of 2011.

India in England, 2014 : Can't Bat, Can't Bowl, Can't Catch, Can't Run

After the 2nd Test in Lord's, England was the team in disarray. Cook's captaincy was in question, Prior had taken a possibly career-ending break, the attitude and form of many senior players was in question, the batting had been found out by India's seam bowling, there was no proper spinning option. All signs pointed to a prolonged summer of agony for the English. While the Indian  fans exulted. This was going to be the balm of the pain caused by the summer and winter of 2011. 

And then...

Cricket in the 80's - Rookies, Rebels & Renaissance

Commonwealth Cricket, Why Not?

The Commonwealth games have just kicked off, and this year Glasgow are hosting the plethora of sporting events. The Commonwealth games, although inferior to the Olympic Games, still successfully airs sport around the globe, introducing new events to the estimated 1 billion viewers. I will undoubtedly be transfixed by the majority of sports during these games as I am every time a large scale multisport event comes along. The weightlifting will force me to the edge of my seat and during the judo I’ll be cheering for an ipoon. Despite this, I would never think about watching these sports away from the Olympics or Commonwealth games. I can’t help but get the feeling that cricket, a far more interesting sport than most of the events currently featuring in the Commonwealth games, is missing out.

England Deserve to Lose It All

There was a time where it was fun to root for England, namely when they went about toppling the unbeatable Australians in 2005. The underdogs beating the Aussies at their own game playing with aggressive swagger and style.  It was great.

But that was nearly a decade ago. The so called English dominance of test cricket, brief as it was, is going through a painfully slow death where they can no longer play Ishant Sharma. 

And they absolutely deserve it.

lol

There is a difference between the once great Australia and the once "great" England.  Australia were ridiculously good and they knew it, they could field three cricket teams who could blow apart anybody that dared to turn up. One would scream out for those precious moments when another team actually got the better of them (the aforementioned Ashes 2005, a prime example).

Rahul Dravid: One Final Adoration

I do not want to write this. This is too emotional a subject for me. The title itself makes me go mushy. And you do not write, when you know you are going to be bias, when you know your emotions will win over your logical approach. Yet I do, for the simple reason that this the only way I can pour my heart out.

An exhibition match became worth a celebration when it was confirmed that India’s Mr. Dependable (I like this name. It complements the mannerly, unblemished schoolboy that you have always been) will be walking out to take guard once again at the #3 slot. This game out of nowhere equals a pilgrimage for your fans, Dravidians, as we like to call ourselves. After having withstood your ODI and Test retirement, one odd goodbye isn’t much of a thing. But the fact that this might be your last game ever, sends tingles down the rachis.

Now more than the exuberance of seeing you bat once again, there’s some off-base fear that grips me.  The fear of you not finding your form, again.  The fear of what your final scores will be. The fear of exodusing amidst the nostalgic concert halls of the Mecca of Cricket, as you turn up. The fear of standing misty-eyed, as you cosset every blade of the grass on the field. The fear of misplacing my nonage once again, as you stop the ticking clock and vamoose into the beguiling alcoves of athanasia.

So how do I groom for such an exploit, emotionally?  Even if it’s plainly as a rubbernecker.