The stars don't align all that often, but when they do, it is pure ecstasy. Assuming that if it is ecstasy, then the stars must have lined up, it can be said that they do so fairly often for Manchester United. Still, they haven't ever done so like they did today. One might wonder what could have been missing from when they defeated Roma 7-1 at Old Trafford last year. The answer is slightly complicated but definitely explainable. That match was shown live at around noon on ESPN and was played on a working day. All of this meant that there was a very high probability that I would watch it. And indeed, I did. So, it did not necessarily require the stars to lineup. It just needed Man United to turn on the style. I was going to be glued in front of the TV anyway.
Today, with United in the midst of a mini-slump, hosting the Premier League leaders Arsenal in a 5th round FA cup tie, the signs certainly were not the best. Further, it was going to be played at 9am on a Saturday morning. Who wakes up that early on a Saturday?! Not me! Most importantly, the game was not going to be shown on Fox Soccer Channel, the only channel dedicated to football here in the United States. Previously, I have tried finding links to watch such games live on the internet. Those attempts always ended in failure. So, to sum things up, neither was Man United in great shape going in this match, nor did I have much of a chance to watch whatever unfolded. Essentially, the stars seemed to be scattered all over the place.
One also vividly remembers a similar situation from the past season, when I woke up earlier than is humanly possible, to watch a game featuring the same matchup and the depressing sensation I was left with, at the end of 90 minutes. So, frankly, when I was going to bed at 2am, I had no motivation to wake up for the game. While hoping for a win, I just resigned myself to read the report on BBC and take whatever came with it. That was the plan.
The room was perfectly dark, but the eyes fluttered and soon enough stayed open. No alarm had gone off, neither was the phone ringing, but I was awake, with not a clue about the time. It could very well have been noon. Opening the laptop and getting on to BBC Sport is always a nervous event on Saturday mornings. A quick desperate scan indicated that the game hadn't started and that Liverpool were tied with Barnsley, a bottom dweller in the Championship. Good start to the day! While catching up on what RP Singh had to say on Cricinfo, a news flash showed that Mr.Howard had scored an injury time winner to send Liverpool packing from the FA Cup. This made one thing certain. Whatever happened from here on, the day was not going to be a disaster.
Remember all the talk about stars earlier? Well, obviously, there was daylight outside, so, I could not see if the stars were in a line or something, but I found a way to watch the game online. With English commentary! So, to sum it up, I had woken up and found a way to watch the game in spite of the insurmountable odds. The onus was on the players now.
When the team lineup was revealed, what made my jaw drop was not the names there were playing, but the ones that weren't. Ronaldo rested. Scholes rested. Giggs nowhere to be seen. I wondered what kind of a display Man United were going to put up. To present a balanced view, let me state that Arsenal were hardly in the pink of health. In Arsene Wenger's own words, they were "down to bare bones" with regard to the players available to play.
The game started, and so did the attacks. Wave after wave of them. All of them aimed at the Arsenal goal. It was exciting. It always is, when a handful of players rush at full throttle down a crowded field, threading the ball between bodies, always reaching the intended target, before the inevitable strike on goal. Disregard the end result, for there is almost never a goal. That is football, but the process is pure symphony. Anyway, let me stop the singing and present the report.
United are one of the very few teams capable of being rampantly dominant against the top sides. But like I said, dominance doesn't necessarily translate itself into goals. Make no mistake. It does for United, more often than it does for other sides, however, in a matchup between top sides, it is often an odd goal that decides the game, and almost as often, that odd one is an ugly goal mouth scramble that gets pushed in off a shoulder or a bum even. So, there was no point in getting excited as yet, for the clock showed 15 minutes and the score remained nil-nil.
During the 16th minute, as Anderson's headed pass looped towards Rooney, it was hard to remain unexcited. Even when Rooney headed in a goal, the situation called for calm and pragmatism. For, this was Arsenal. Even at the best of times, in a Man United - Arsenal game, one strike is followed by a counter strike, and everything remains even, until at the very end, when the very same ugly strike spoken about earlier, would settle the issue one way or the other (A draw at the enemy's base counts as victory. So, really, there are no draws!).
Fletcher's strike 4 minutes later brought out chants of 'Ole' from the Old Trafford faithful, but I stayed sober. 2-0 was unreal, but then, I expertly noted that Man United had made the classic mistake of giving the Gunners about 70 minutes to get something out of the game. I thought that United would sit back from thereon, and allow Arsenal back into the game. It never happened. The waves continued unabated. That made me breathe easy. I thought of the stars once again.
Rooney was on the pitch for a total of 72 minutes, and for most of it, he was in front of the Arsenal goal with ball at his feet, and had either just the keeper to beat, or a couple of defenders to beat. With the quality of service he was receiving, he really should have scored more. If not for the Manchester United cause, at least for the fact that England boss Fabio Capello was an avid spectator in the stadium keeping a keen eye on him. Anyway, while he did not score after the first, he did not letup either. He was always running at the heart of Arsenal's defense and creating havoc. I don't think that he should ever play as sole striker. He is not clinical enough for that, but as a forward that plays just behind the striker, he has no peer. Sir Alex knows. Capello must know, by now.
Fletcher scored 2 goals. Unsurprisingly, he will get a lot of attention. He can have it. But in my eyes, Nani, Anderson, Carrick and Rooney were the stars of the day.
Carrick infuriates often. On a bad day, he makes successful 10 yard passes to the side and behind. On an average day, he succeeds in making 15 yard passes to the side. On a good day though, there is no limit to the yardage or the accuracy and needless to mention, they are all made in the forward direction. Seriously, is there a mortal explanation for his pass to Nani that lead to the third goal?! I have watched the replay, but I can't come up with one. I was reminded of Ronaldinho. Unsurprisingly enough, someone else also thought so, and sent a comment to BBC Sport. He filled the game with perfectly weighted passes to the forward line. I don't know about winning, but United will score goals if he plays like today.
With television coverage as it is in the US, it is hard to watch one's favorite team play every week. It leads to a slight dulling of the enthusiasm. Essentially, that is what has happened to me this season. I caught a couple of the initial games, but haven't watched United in action for the past couple of months. From what I gathered based on early season action, Nani and Anderson had a long way to go before they became a force at the Premiership level. In the meantime, I've read reports about their usefulness to the side. I remained a skeptic. Today, I stand converted. One could say, that from being an agnostic, I have become a believer!
The advantage of a nightmare, if ever there is one, is that, one can wake up from it. The trouble for Hoyte was that, he was wide awake, sweating profusely and running his lungs out, but the nightmare just wouldn't go away. For Nani was a defender's worst nightmare, but as real as they come. He kept running at Hoyte, past him and around him. Anderson did the same to everyone else on the field. He was utterly dominating the midfield, bossing over Cesc and co., while blowing holes in the Arsenal defense, that made it appear like a sieve by the end of the game.
By no means are Nani and Anderson finished products, but their progress from newbies to dominant midfielder and winger in a game against Arsenal is nothing short of spectacular. Peter Roebuck, in an article about the perils faced by youngsters in sport, alluding specifically to cricket's Ishant Sharma, India's latest superstar fast bowler, mentions that the BCCI ought to consult Sir Alex Ferguson to learn how to shepherd their raw diamond through the minefield, that fame often is. Ishant of today is the Ronaldo of 2 years ago. If two years hence, India needs Ishant to be the Ronaldo of today, they might as well do so. And if they do, look out Australia!
Coming back to football, the 4-0 scoreline is an accurate reflection of how lucky Arsenal were today. Rooney himself should have had 4. Anyway, that is football, and the scoreline, does not matter all that much, once you realize that on this day, the stars aligned for you and your team.
Lastly, I have a question I need to ask before I finish up with this post actually. Its been on top of my mind ever since I started writing this one. I mean, what the hell have the stars or their orientation got to do with anything that happens on a football pitch??!!!
PS: With Argentine Mascherano playing for Liverpool and Brazilian Anderson playing for Manchester United, I used to dream in vain that it would be so much better if they swapped clubs. Now, while being fully aware that they will continue to play for their current clubs, I dream in vain that Mascherano was Brazilian and Anderson was Argentine! Ahhhh, football.....
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
2 weeks of Cricket, Chennai and getting Married
- Put simply, the Melbourne Cricket Ground is just too damn big for us
- A bowler who bowls 145+ kmph is special. But me thinks that a bowler who bowls 129.9kmph for 4 out of 6 deliveries in one over is very very special. Step forward Stuart Clark. Comparisons with Glenn McGrath are so easy and so obvious and so bloody true.
- The Melbourne cricket pitch is just too suited to Stuart Clark
- The loss at Sydney affected me more than any match since India lost to Pakistan at Chennai and Kolkatta in 1998-99.
- Nothing kills like a silent killer. With the obvious killers, you know what is coming. Symonds is one of those obvious ones. You prepare for him. You plan for him. You lay a trap for him. Nothing guarantees success, but that is all you can do. Brad Hogg is a silent one. We did not worry about him. We weren't prepared for him. We did not have a plan for him. As a result, we paid a price because of him.
- When it comes to marriage expenses, the saree is a silent killer. Apparently, jewels for the occasion are procured from the time the bride was born. The cost for renting the marriage hall and the cheque for the caterers are spoken about rightaway and allocated for too. Then comes the day when the parents from both sides and the bride get together to shop for sarees. I knew that there would be one for the wedding and one for the reception. And that both of these would be expensive. What I did not know was that, there would be one for the engagement, one for the 'maru veedu' and one because the bride liked something she saw. In case a friend is reading this, and wondering why he/she was not invited for the engagement, let me clarify that we did not actually have an engagement ceremony. We just have a saree for that occasion.
- Honestly, if that is all there is to this saree thing, I would not have brought it up. But no, it does not stop there. Not even close to there. Any woman, closely or vaguely related to the marriage, who wants a new saree, is gifted one. Who does not want a new saree for free?! Even I want one!
- One friend who got married on February 1st said that she got SEVEN sarees, including one for the wedding night and excluding the gagra choli that she was going to wear for the reception. Another one, that is set to tie the knot on March 9th, said that without any considerations over buying a number that is required for the various events around occasion, she just gets ELEVEN dresses for her wedding. Totally unaccounted!
- Watching India's victory over Australia at Perth was my favorite wedding gift, and I got it the day before the wedding. Initially, I thought that it would have been perfect had it happened on the actual day itself, but on careful analysis, I conclude that if it was going to happen on the wedding day, I would have either gotten married or gotten the gift. There was no room for both. So, this was just perfect!
- Chennai traffic does not matter! You just need to be in the right mood to disregard it completely.
- Chennai weather does matter! Whatever mood you might be in, it is hard to disregard the beads of sweat running down your face.
- So, if visiting Chennai, visit during winter. I am referring to those 30 odd days that get labeled as winter. It is nice out there during those days. There is no sweating. So, you are in a good mood. So, traffic does not matter. Still, don't push it. Stay away from T.Nagar!
- Brett Lee was one of the reasons we dominated and drew 1-1 with Australia when we visited during 2003-04. The primary reason for Australia winning the 2007-08 series 2-1 are well, Benson and Bucknor, but Brett Lee gets the vote from amongst the players.
- Australia have been carrying Lee in their test team for more than 5 years. Now, they are reaping the rewards. By the looks of it, they got their timing just about right by blooding Mitchell Johnson now. 5 years hence, when Lee retires, Johnson will be the Lee of today.
- The word 'stain' has a negative connotation. A physical stain is typically looked upon as disgusting. Strangely though, volunteering to get crap on one's hand evokes admiration, and the stain it leaves behind elicits 'Oohs' and 'Aahs' and becomes the focal point of so many conversations during marriage time. Welcome to the girly world of Mehendi.
- Manly Ponting getting worked over by new boy Ishant means that our hypothetical pace attack is getting stronger by the series. The star list now reads Zaheer, RP, Munaf, Sree, Pathan and Ishant. Hopefully, this means that when the next series comes around, we will have atleast two of them fit to play!
- I am a bigger fan of Sachin now than ever before. Not so much for his batting, but more for his general demeanor and his realization and acceptance of the passage of time.
- I am a lesser fan of Harsha Bhogle now than ever before. I refer to Harsha the commentator. I still enjoy his columns, but listening to his commentary after ages, I realized that he caters primarily to the least intelligent cricket viewer. I don't belong there.
- I miss Ricky Ponting manning backward point
- I was all for bringing in an appeals system wherein television could play a much bigger role in decision making, until I realized that Channel 9 deliberately did not show a single replay of Clarke grounding the ball when he rolled over after 'catching' a ball that might or might not have bounced in front of him.
- This blatant 'no-show' was the equivalent of the incorrect Dravid dismissal being shown for 24 hours on all Indian news channels.
- Extensive media coverage can be quite a problem. While I don't think it can be termed as the same, getting photographed through the day on that day, made me quite uncomfortable. So much so, that by the end of the day, I did not just consider the photographers to be a nuisance, but to be proper Tamil movie villains. One day later, when I viewed the raw images taken on that day, my opinion of them remained the same. 5 days later, after viewing the album filled with digitally enhanced pictures of myself, I look back at them as the angels that made a memorable day, a rememberable, memorable one.
- People that came onto the dais, and embarrassed me by asking if I recognized them, in spite of the perfectly decent smile with which I greeted them, while not having a clue as to who they were, are just cruel people. I met a lot of cruel people that day.
- I met some more cruel people that day - they gave flowers as gift!
- At a perfectly decent restaurant, a fairly unruly roar erupted when the TV screen showed Rajnikanth being awarded with the title of "Man of the Year" for 2007. My brother, an ardent fan, while grinning from ear to ear, remarked that only Rajnikanth could bring about such a response. Half-heartedly, I remarked that maybe Sachin would too. But deep down, I knew that that in Tamil Nadu, Rajnikanth fans would outnumber Sachin's or anyone else's fans by 10 to 1. A pretty sad 'state'.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Our Captains and their Decisions
Earlier this year, when Australia landed in India for the one day series (immediately after our Twenty20 triumph), Dhoni had to choose between Harbhajan and Powar for a spot in the playing eleven. Powar had been a consistent presence in the side through the tour of Ireland and England and had done really well. In fact, Powar and Chawla tossing the ball higher and higher during the middle overs of the one dayers with a fair bit of success is a romantic memory that lingers from the past year.
Harbhajan, on the other hand, had been dropped after the ODI World Cup and was making a comeback into the ODI side based on good performance in the Twenty20 competition. One can't really take away the success he had during that tournament, but anyone that watched his bowling, would know that it was success based on consistent flat blockhole or thereabouts bowling rather than flight based deception. In fact, he did not seem to have much else to offer. When Misbah moved deeper into the crease and went after him in the finals, Harbhajan could not do much. Still, overall, he was a success story from that triumph.
Coming back to the Ind-Aus ODI series, Cricinfo ran a preview, in which, it was stated as a given that Harbhajan would be preferred over Powar. It took be by surprise, but I grudgingly accepted that that was a reality of Indian cricket, wherein, star power would trump on-field performance. On matchday though, Dhoni, the new captain, much newer to the international arena than Harbhajan himself, played Powar.
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Now, during this backlash after the Melbourne loss, Sehwag is the man that has been anointed by the media as savior of this Indian team that is taking on the mighty Australians in their own backyard. This is the very same Sehwag whom the whole world thought was getting a free ride in the Indian team just a year ago. Nothing much has changed. He made a comeback in the one dayers. Did not succeed. Some old failings showed up. And apparently, he has been in the same form in domestic cricket that Brian Charles Lara was in the ICL, without the record dollars per run scored though.
Ian Chappell had perfectly valid reasons for including Sehwag in the Indian playing eleven. India gives away too much in too many departments to the Aussies. So, in order for them to stand toe to toe with the Aussies consistently, they would need something special. His pick Sehwag, made a career out of playing special knocks until a couple of years ago. He hasn't done that in a long time though. So, picking him, as Ian made clear, would have been a gamble and nothing more.
Unfortunately, because of the fact that the negatives of our performance from the Melbourne test are theoretically solved by the solution, that is Sehwag, everyone appears to be taken up by it. A gamble was suddenly deemed crystal clear logic. Instead of weighing up skills, respective styles of batting was all that mattered in discussions and debates.
By the time the test match came about, I had taken it for granted that Sehwag was in and that Yuvraj would miss out. Much to my surprise, Kumble has selected an unchanged batting lineup. I suspect that the actual batting order might differ from Melbourne, though, I wouldn't be surprised if all we see is a change in attitude towards run scoring.
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One decision, one knock, one spell - these things don't mean much over an entire career. But a great career is something that has many of these 'ones'. Kumble and Dhoni have put up an excellent 'one' against their names with their respective decisions.
Harbhajan, on the other hand, had been dropped after the ODI World Cup and was making a comeback into the ODI side based on good performance in the Twenty20 competition. One can't really take away the success he had during that tournament, but anyone that watched his bowling, would know that it was success based on consistent flat blockhole or thereabouts bowling rather than flight based deception. In fact, he did not seem to have much else to offer. When Misbah moved deeper into the crease and went after him in the finals, Harbhajan could not do much. Still, overall, he was a success story from that triumph.
Coming back to the Ind-Aus ODI series, Cricinfo ran a preview, in which, it was stated as a given that Harbhajan would be preferred over Powar. It took be by surprise, but I grudgingly accepted that that was a reality of Indian cricket, wherein, star power would trump on-field performance. On matchday though, Dhoni, the new captain, much newer to the international arena than Harbhajan himself, played Powar.
--------------------------------------------
Now, during this backlash after the Melbourne loss, Sehwag is the man that has been anointed by the media as savior of this Indian team that is taking on the mighty Australians in their own backyard. This is the very same Sehwag whom the whole world thought was getting a free ride in the Indian team just a year ago. Nothing much has changed. He made a comeback in the one dayers. Did not succeed. Some old failings showed up. And apparently, he has been in the same form in domestic cricket that Brian Charles Lara was in the ICL, without the record dollars per run scored though.
Ian Chappell had perfectly valid reasons for including Sehwag in the Indian playing eleven. India gives away too much in too many departments to the Aussies. So, in order for them to stand toe to toe with the Aussies consistently, they would need something special. His pick Sehwag, made a career out of playing special knocks until a couple of years ago. He hasn't done that in a long time though. So, picking him, as Ian made clear, would have been a gamble and nothing more.
Unfortunately, because of the fact that the negatives of our performance from the Melbourne test are theoretically solved by the solution, that is Sehwag, everyone appears to be taken up by it. A gamble was suddenly deemed crystal clear logic. Instead of weighing up skills, respective styles of batting was all that mattered in discussions and debates.
By the time the test match came about, I had taken it for granted that Sehwag was in and that Yuvraj would miss out. Much to my surprise, Kumble has selected an unchanged batting lineup. I suspect that the actual batting order might differ from Melbourne, though, I wouldn't be surprised if all we see is a change in attitude towards run scoring.
--------------------------------------------
One decision, one knock, one spell - these things don't mean much over an entire career. But a great career is something that has many of these 'ones'. Kumble and Dhoni have put up an excellent 'one' against their names with their respective decisions.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Post '07 Boxing Day test match thoughts
So, Dravid opened. The scorecard shows that the experiment was a disaster. Everyone is now keen to slate Kumble and the management for playing Dravid in an unfamiliar position. I did, during a phone call yesterday. However, I think that the problem is a little more complex than just being about positions. As I touched upon in my previous post, and as Ian Chappell mentioned throughout, the problem lies with the combination.
Jaffer and Dravid will not work against the Aussies. Against say, South Africa, if India moves along at one run per over for the first twenty, it is almost guaranteed that life gets easier from there on. Not against the Aussies. They hunt as a pack and they keep at it for 90 overs a day. No letups. So, stonewalling, as a tactic, is out.
Dravid is not in form, but also, he is not getting any help from the stroke players in the side. Even now, Dravid is capable of batting through the day and making his share of runs. But if the scorecard isn't moving, he cannot do this. Specifically, he cannot do it against the Aussies. He is limited in that aspect. He needs a stroke player at the other end doing the necessary run scoring. This automatically puts the bowler under pressure, thus providing Dravid with ample opportunity to do some scoring himself, while being great enough to get through tough phases of play.
Jaffer is a player in the mould of Dravid and his position is at No.1. So, instead of grouping them together, let Jaffer stay on top. Yuvraj or Sehwag should play at No.2 and Laxman at No.3. The rest of the ordering is harder. Dravid at No.6 is a waste. He is not going to farm the strike while batting with the tailenders and take on a good attack. But Sachin and Sourav are the ones in form. Pushing either of them to No.6 is controversial. This is a tough problem. There is an answer though. It is called 'flexibility'.
If Jaffer perishes early, Dravid HAS to play above Sachin and Sourav. I know Sachin is very picky about No.4, but Kumble (after reading this post) needs to explain the idea to him and then make him follow directions. On the other hand, if Jaffer stays on, then Dravid can be played at No.6.
At Melbourne the pitch did not help us. The Aussie attack was suited to the pitch. Trouble is, no pitch is going to suit our bowlers more than theirs. On a helpful track, our attack can do some damage, which is what they did on the first day. But hypothetically, if the Aussie batsman faced the Aussie bowlers, they would not score 343 runs in 90 odd overs. They would have scored 250. Throw in the Aussie fielding unit, and the total gets reduced further. Now, 196 does not look too bad, does it? As I indicate, our batsman are still at fault, but not by as much as the scorecard shows. Anyone reading? If so, following?
If Sydney is conducive to strokeplay, we can do better with the bat. The Aussie attack is not about genius. They do not bowl magic deliveries like the Pakistani fast bowlers. What they are masters at, is in the art of choking runs and creating pressure. On a flat track, our batsman are good enough to overcome that challenge. Trouble is, our bowlers fall off the radar on such a track. Kumble apart, that is. So, either we bat first, bat big and put pressure on the Aussie batting lineup or we bat out a high scoring draw.
Perth - even if Munaf, Sreesanth, Zaheer, RP and Kumble were all available and in the form of their lives, the Aussies would score more than a seven batsman lineup of ours would do against Lee, Johnson, Clark and Tait. What I mean is, a hypothetical strongest Indian XII would lose to an Aussie XI at Perth. (Kumble, if you are still reading, I've set myself up perfectly. It is upto you to get the egg on my face. That would make us all happy, wouldn't it?)
Adelaide - too far away to speculate, but if we want to win there, just make sure Adelaide maestro Ajit Agarkar is available for selection!
Jaffer and Dravid will not work against the Aussies. Against say, South Africa, if India moves along at one run per over for the first twenty, it is almost guaranteed that life gets easier from there on. Not against the Aussies. They hunt as a pack and they keep at it for 90 overs a day. No letups. So, stonewalling, as a tactic, is out.
Dravid is not in form, but also, he is not getting any help from the stroke players in the side. Even now, Dravid is capable of batting through the day and making his share of runs. But if the scorecard isn't moving, he cannot do this. Specifically, he cannot do it against the Aussies. He is limited in that aspect. He needs a stroke player at the other end doing the necessary run scoring. This automatically puts the bowler under pressure, thus providing Dravid with ample opportunity to do some scoring himself, while being great enough to get through tough phases of play.
Jaffer is a player in the mould of Dravid and his position is at No.1. So, instead of grouping them together, let Jaffer stay on top. Yuvraj or Sehwag should play at No.2 and Laxman at No.3. The rest of the ordering is harder. Dravid at No.6 is a waste. He is not going to farm the strike while batting with the tailenders and take on a good attack. But Sachin and Sourav are the ones in form. Pushing either of them to No.6 is controversial. This is a tough problem. There is an answer though. It is called 'flexibility'.
If Jaffer perishes early, Dravid HAS to play above Sachin and Sourav. I know Sachin is very picky about No.4, but Kumble (after reading this post) needs to explain the idea to him and then make him follow directions. On the other hand, if Jaffer stays on, then Dravid can be played at No.6.
At Melbourne the pitch did not help us. The Aussie attack was suited to the pitch. Trouble is, no pitch is going to suit our bowlers more than theirs. On a helpful track, our attack can do some damage, which is what they did on the first day. But hypothetically, if the Aussie batsman faced the Aussie bowlers, they would not score 343 runs in 90 odd overs. They would have scored 250. Throw in the Aussie fielding unit, and the total gets reduced further. Now, 196 does not look too bad, does it? As I indicate, our batsman are still at fault, but not by as much as the scorecard shows. Anyone reading? If so, following?
If Sydney is conducive to strokeplay, we can do better with the bat. The Aussie attack is not about genius. They do not bowl magic deliveries like the Pakistani fast bowlers. What they are masters at, is in the art of choking runs and creating pressure. On a flat track, our batsman are good enough to overcome that challenge. Trouble is, our bowlers fall off the radar on such a track. Kumble apart, that is. So, either we bat first, bat big and put pressure on the Aussie batting lineup or we bat out a high scoring draw.
Perth - even if Munaf, Sreesanth, Zaheer, RP and Kumble were all available and in the form of their lives, the Aussies would score more than a seven batsman lineup of ours would do against Lee, Johnson, Clark and Tait. What I mean is, a hypothetical strongest Indian XII would lose to an Aussie XI at Perth. (Kumble, if you are still reading, I've set myself up perfectly. It is upto you to get the egg on my face. That would make us all happy, wouldn't it?)
Adelaide - too far away to speculate, but if we want to win there, just make sure Adelaide maestro Ajit Agarkar is available for selection!
Thursday, December 13, 2007
reviewing and previewing
Mr.Bal always ends up being quicker with regard to putting words on print, however, such is the nature of the internet, that both of us can co-exist in this world, with him being synonymous with cricket, while I remain my anonymous self. Unfortunately though, due to some similarity in thought between the contents of his article and what is to follow in this post of mine, the two or three readers that we share, will have to make up their mind as to whether it is Mr.Bal reading my mind, or me stealing his ideas.
India have completed their series triumph over Pakistan and coming as it has, after triumphs over WI in WI, Eng in Eng and a 1-2 loss to SA in SA, our test squad has certainly come up with performances that match the hype.
Pardon me for not rejoicing in the triumph, but being my critical -only about others- self, let me state that this series showcased some of the flattest test cricket I've witnessed since, of course, the last time India toured Pakistan. I accept complete blame for anguishing over the defeat we suffered on that instance, while not wholly appreciating our victory this time, but once we can get past my faults, lets focus on the cricket that was played and what is to be played soon enough.
Feeling pity for an opponent's troubles can be considered to be sporting. However, an India - Pakistan encounter, fails as a sporting contest when Pakistan's misfortunes make me feel sorry for them. Unfortunately, that is exactly what I felt for them on the opening day of the second test match that was played at Eden Gardens, Kolkatta. Jaffer was the star of that day, but out of the four bowlers he faced, one was visibly sick, another was ailing, and the rest were Tanvir and Kaneria. The pitch, of course, was a sleeping beauty.
With Lara and Warne gone, Akhtar is probably the only character in the game exhibiting prima donna traits. The 'gold fish in a glass bowl' media coverage that he gets as a result of that, makes it too hard to figure out if he is a hero or villain or just another player in the Pakistan cricket team. He is certainly accorded status of hero within the team, for he was included in the side for the second test when he was clearly not fit to play. By that logic, he failed the team. But another viewpoint is that he put his hand up for the team, and did whatever he could to help their cause. In this case, it would be the captain that would have to shoulder the blame for including him in the eleven.
Sami's selection into the test squad, gladdened a lot of Indian hearts, including mine. However, when he bowled at 75 - 80 mph on the opening day, it made me sad. Watching Kaneria, I was dejected, that it was this bowler whom we failed to confront aggressively at the Bangalore test match during Pakistan's previous tour here. Our fourth innings effort in that match against that very same bowler, will sit alongside our fourth day effort at Cape Town, SA earlier this year, in my personal Indian cricket's Hall of Infamy recollections. As for Tanvir, his display clarified that at this point, Pakistan have only three world class fast bowlers in Akhtar, Gul and Asif.
It was a combination of injuries, the pitch and the teams themselves, that the cricket played during this series was insipid. Very few players rose above the show. Ganguly was one of them. He shone like he did during his debut series and never since. It was not just the sheer magnitude of runs he scored. It was also the style and the rate at which he scored.
One of the few intense moments of cricket played in this series was during the post-tea session on the fourth day of the first test match, with India chasing 203 for victory. When we lost Dravid to an absolute corker from Akhtar, the score was 93-3, with 110 further needed. Sachin Tendulkar was at the crease, and was looking solid, but his track record in such scenarios is fairly poor. In fact, in both the instances listed previously, under hall of infamy, he had played the role of anti-hero protagonist. This time though, like I said, he looked comfortable. Still, the runs weren't exactly flowing, and we really needed it to. Enter Ganguly. A few drives and glides and cuts and flicks later, mostly from the blade of Ganguly, India finished the day for no further damage at 171, with Ganguly on 48*. Game over.
The century at Eden Gardens was essentially a personal crusade that Dada was on. That is all there is to say about that.
The Pak bowling attack at Bangalore on the opening day was not a lot than the one from Eden Gardens, particularly after lunch, with Akhtar off to the hospital, but we were 61/4 and Ganguly played the role that Sachin played in the first test, with Yuvraj taking over the reins. But Yuvraj got out at the fag end of the first day and there was still work to be done. If we had folded for 400, and based on how events panned out, it could have been deja-vu all over again. Sourav though, motored on and batted Pakistan out of the match and the series
Kumble, Laxman, Sachin, Jaffer amongst others played significant roles for India in this series. On Pakistan's side, the star was probably Misbah, with Younus, Akhtar and Kamran playing the supporting roles.
Considering the proximity of India's next assignment, I am unable to view our just completed series against Pak as a stand alone fixture. Hence, I have to say that the series that was done and dusted on December 12th, certainly did not prepare us for what we are set to face from December 26th.
Besides being great at every aspect of the game, what the Aussies end up doing is to elevate the standard of their opponents to the very same level from time to time. It is no wonder then, that the only couple of test series defeats that the Aussies have suffered in recent times (and by that, I mean about seven years) are spoken of as all-time great ones. More relevantly, they also have the ability to rise above pitch conditions. It is a guarantee that if this series had been played between Australia and India or for that matter Pakistan, on the very same pitches, the matches would have had results but more importantly, intensity.
Now, that very same, extreme, all day intensity is what we are going to be facing on their soil. There will be no hiding place. Either we stand up and fight, which does not guarantee results though, or fall flat and not just lose 0-4 but also set up statistical records for incompetency. To be fair, considering our track record, we will stand up and fight hard. That is all that we can ask for.
There is no point squealing about our pace attack like I did when we toured England, but a fully fit and in-form Munaf and SreeSanth alongside Zaheer and RP would have been ideal. Now though, lets hope like crazy that none of the selected ones get injured during the tour.
I guess that the talking points prior to the opening day, in order of priority are
1) whether Yuvraj will be in the playing eleven
2) whether Sehwag will be in the playing eleven
3) bowling composition - 2 pace 2 spin or 3 pace 1 spin
The first two problems are fairly good ones to have and they are intertwined. Unfortunately, I am not able to come up with an answer, but thankfully, I am not the one that has to. Anyway, here's some speculation.
Sachin, Sourav and Rahul cannot be dropped in that order of priority - if that isn't an oxymoron. Jaffer can be dropped but should not and will not, since he commands a place as opener through sheer performance. That leaves two spots - one opener and one in the late middle order. Actually, Laxman's form cannot be faulted by any stretch of imagination, but having seen him get injured on the last day at Bangalore, and also due to the simple theory of Indian cricket, wherein, by virtue of being Laxman, you are the one likely to be sacrificed, I would have to say that he might lose out to Yuvraj. However, Kumble has been quite outspoken about Lax's virtues and would probably play him if he is fit. That leaves Yuvi and Sehwag fighting for one spot, though not necessarily the opening spot. Depending on whom they want to play and team composition, that opener spot can either remain that or become a middle order spot. If Sehwag is chosen, he opens with Jaffer and the rest of the batting order remains as it has been for the past ten years.
If Yuvi is chosen though, someone else will have to open. Dravid has opened before and so has Laxman. I don't see Ganguly or Pathan opening, and actually, I don't see Laxman opening either. So, either Kumble and Dravid discuss and decide that he opens, or Yuvraj ends up opening, when clearly, he is much better off in the middle order. As a stand alone idea, Dravid as opener, sounds like the better option, but with him and Jaffer at the crease, I don't see the scoreboard moving at much of a pace, and that is not a good idea against the Aussies.
One more option is to have a sacrificial opener in Pathan, but that takes me to the third issue. The basic question of '2 and 2' or '3 and 1' should hopefully be decided in favor of '3 and 1'. However, irrespective of whether it is two or even three pace bowlers, I wonder if Pathan should be included. Zak is the leader of the attack and based on performance in England, RP is the definite second choice. Now, even if we play 3 pace bowlers, choosing 3 left arm pacers does not sound like a good idea. Whatever his faults might be, and he has quite a few, Ishant is a right-hander and also quite different to the other bowlers in the squad. So, I would hope that the bowling lineup reads Zak, RP, Ishant and Kumble, but fear that Pathan might take the place of RP or Ishant due to his batting ability.
The good thing about all this confusion is that, they are fairly healthy issues to have. For years, we have complained about the lack of bench strength. Now, we have competition for the places in the playing eleven, and one of the two most decent individuals in the side leading it.
Let the good times roll on...
India have completed their series triumph over Pakistan and coming as it has, after triumphs over WI in WI, Eng in Eng and a 1-2 loss to SA in SA, our test squad has certainly come up with performances that match the hype.
Pardon me for not rejoicing in the triumph, but being my critical -only about others- self, let me state that this series showcased some of the flattest test cricket I've witnessed since, of course, the last time India toured Pakistan. I accept complete blame for anguishing over the defeat we suffered on that instance, while not wholly appreciating our victory this time, but once we can get past my faults, lets focus on the cricket that was played and what is to be played soon enough.
Feeling pity for an opponent's troubles can be considered to be sporting. However, an India - Pakistan encounter, fails as a sporting contest when Pakistan's misfortunes make me feel sorry for them. Unfortunately, that is exactly what I felt for them on the opening day of the second test match that was played at Eden Gardens, Kolkatta. Jaffer was the star of that day, but out of the four bowlers he faced, one was visibly sick, another was ailing, and the rest were Tanvir and Kaneria. The pitch, of course, was a sleeping beauty.
With Lara and Warne gone, Akhtar is probably the only character in the game exhibiting prima donna traits. The 'gold fish in a glass bowl' media coverage that he gets as a result of that, makes it too hard to figure out if he is a hero or villain or just another player in the Pakistan cricket team. He is certainly accorded status of hero within the team, for he was included in the side for the second test when he was clearly not fit to play. By that logic, he failed the team. But another viewpoint is that he put his hand up for the team, and did whatever he could to help their cause. In this case, it would be the captain that would have to shoulder the blame for including him in the eleven.
Sami's selection into the test squad, gladdened a lot of Indian hearts, including mine. However, when he bowled at 75 - 80 mph on the opening day, it made me sad. Watching Kaneria, I was dejected, that it was this bowler whom we failed to confront aggressively at the Bangalore test match during Pakistan's previous tour here. Our fourth innings effort in that match against that very same bowler, will sit alongside our fourth day effort at Cape Town, SA earlier this year, in my personal Indian cricket's Hall of Infamy recollections. As for Tanvir, his display clarified that at this point, Pakistan have only three world class fast bowlers in Akhtar, Gul and Asif.
It was a combination of injuries, the pitch and the teams themselves, that the cricket played during this series was insipid. Very few players rose above the show. Ganguly was one of them. He shone like he did during his debut series and never since. It was not just the sheer magnitude of runs he scored. It was also the style and the rate at which he scored.
One of the few intense moments of cricket played in this series was during the post-tea session on the fourth day of the first test match, with India chasing 203 for victory. When we lost Dravid to an absolute corker from Akhtar, the score was 93-3, with 110 further needed. Sachin Tendulkar was at the crease, and was looking solid, but his track record in such scenarios is fairly poor. In fact, in both the instances listed previously, under hall of infamy, he had played the role of anti-hero protagonist. This time though, like I said, he looked comfortable. Still, the runs weren't exactly flowing, and we really needed it to. Enter Ganguly. A few drives and glides and cuts and flicks later, mostly from the blade of Ganguly, India finished the day for no further damage at 171, with Ganguly on 48*. Game over.
The century at Eden Gardens was essentially a personal crusade that Dada was on. That is all there is to say about that.
The Pak bowling attack at Bangalore on the opening day was not a lot than the one from Eden Gardens, particularly after lunch, with Akhtar off to the hospital, but we were 61/4 and Ganguly played the role that Sachin played in the first test, with Yuvraj taking over the reins. But Yuvraj got out at the fag end of the first day and there was still work to be done. If we had folded for 400, and based on how events panned out, it could have been deja-vu all over again. Sourav though, motored on and batted Pakistan out of the match and the series
Kumble, Laxman, Sachin, Jaffer amongst others played significant roles for India in this series. On Pakistan's side, the star was probably Misbah, with Younus, Akhtar and Kamran playing the supporting roles.
Considering the proximity of India's next assignment, I am unable to view our just completed series against Pak as a stand alone fixture. Hence, I have to say that the series that was done and dusted on December 12th, certainly did not prepare us for what we are set to face from December 26th.
Besides being great at every aspect of the game, what the Aussies end up doing is to elevate the standard of their opponents to the very same level from time to time. It is no wonder then, that the only couple of test series defeats that the Aussies have suffered in recent times (and by that, I mean about seven years) are spoken of as all-time great ones. More relevantly, they also have the ability to rise above pitch conditions. It is a guarantee that if this series had been played between Australia and India or for that matter Pakistan, on the very same pitches, the matches would have had results but more importantly, intensity.
Now, that very same, extreme, all day intensity is what we are going to be facing on their soil. There will be no hiding place. Either we stand up and fight, which does not guarantee results though, or fall flat and not just lose 0-4 but also set up statistical records for incompetency. To be fair, considering our track record, we will stand up and fight hard. That is all that we can ask for.
There is no point squealing about our pace attack like I did when we toured England, but a fully fit and in-form Munaf and SreeSanth alongside Zaheer and RP would have been ideal. Now though, lets hope like crazy that none of the selected ones get injured during the tour.
I guess that the talking points prior to the opening day, in order of priority are
1) whether Yuvraj will be in the playing eleven
2) whether Sehwag will be in the playing eleven
3) bowling composition - 2 pace 2 spin or 3 pace 1 spin
The first two problems are fairly good ones to have and they are intertwined. Unfortunately, I am not able to come up with an answer, but thankfully, I am not the one that has to. Anyway, here's some speculation.
Sachin, Sourav and Rahul cannot be dropped in that order of priority - if that isn't an oxymoron. Jaffer can be dropped but should not and will not, since he commands a place as opener through sheer performance. That leaves two spots - one opener and one in the late middle order. Actually, Laxman's form cannot be faulted by any stretch of imagination, but having seen him get injured on the last day at Bangalore, and also due to the simple theory of Indian cricket, wherein, by virtue of being Laxman, you are the one likely to be sacrificed, I would have to say that he might lose out to Yuvraj. However, Kumble has been quite outspoken about Lax's virtues and would probably play him if he is fit. That leaves Yuvi and Sehwag fighting for one spot, though not necessarily the opening spot. Depending on whom they want to play and team composition, that opener spot can either remain that or become a middle order spot. If Sehwag is chosen, he opens with Jaffer and the rest of the batting order remains as it has been for the past ten years.
If Yuvi is chosen though, someone else will have to open. Dravid has opened before and so has Laxman. I don't see Ganguly or Pathan opening, and actually, I don't see Laxman opening either. So, either Kumble and Dravid discuss and decide that he opens, or Yuvraj ends up opening, when clearly, he is much better off in the middle order. As a stand alone idea, Dravid as opener, sounds like the better option, but with him and Jaffer at the crease, I don't see the scoreboard moving at much of a pace, and that is not a good idea against the Aussies.
One more option is to have a sacrificial opener in Pathan, but that takes me to the third issue. The basic question of '2 and 2' or '3 and 1' should hopefully be decided in favor of '3 and 1'. However, irrespective of whether it is two or even three pace bowlers, I wonder if Pathan should be included. Zak is the leader of the attack and based on performance in England, RP is the definite second choice. Now, even if we play 3 pace bowlers, choosing 3 left arm pacers does not sound like a good idea. Whatever his faults might be, and he has quite a few, Ishant is a right-hander and also quite different to the other bowlers in the squad. So, I would hope that the bowling lineup reads Zak, RP, Ishant and Kumble, but fear that Pathan might take the place of RP or Ishant due to his batting ability.
The good thing about all this confusion is that, they are fairly healthy issues to have. For years, we have complained about the lack of bench strength. Now, we have competition for the places in the playing eleven, and one of the two most decent individuals in the side leading it.
Let the good times roll on...
Friday, November 16, 2007
if HE wasn't chasing history
Shorn of the pressure that weighs quite heavily on his shoulder these days, Federer stepped it up against Roddick today. The forehand was fit and firing and the backhand was its versatile self. With 83% of his first serves falling in, they were hardly needed during his service games. But with his opponent not serving "from a tree" during this match, they took over most of the return games he played. As always, they served as very effective point ending weapons from the baseline, but surprisingly, also as genuine approach shots to abet his frequent forays to the net. Once there, he pulled off most of the volleys he had to make with a few of them quite spectacular. On a couple of instances, with Roddick coming in by chipping low, he positioned himself mid-court and delightfully slanted it past the outstretched racket of Andy. That was court craft at its very best.
Attacking the net has not been a part of Federer's gameplan for a long time now. Whether it was the case today because it was an inconsequential match, or whether it forebodes what is to come against Nadal, we will soon find out. He certainly cannot have the same success rate against Nadal. Today, even on those occasions that Roddick had a decent look at a passing shot, he mostly failed. It was apparent that his powerful topspins did not present much of a problem to Federer's volleys. Roddick needed to pass Federer with guile and precision rather than with power, but based on what I saw today, and also recollecting from memory, he does not seem to have that ability.
Nadal though, will be a totally different proposition. First, he will have that extra bit of time to hit his passes, and then, he can hit a loaded, killer angle pass from anywhere on court. Federer knows that very well and will adjust accordingly. But it was good to see him exhibit some rock solid volleying in match conditions. In spite of the aforementioned hazards, it should stand him in good stead for the semifinals.
Speaking of which, it is too bad that it is going to be a 3 set affair, for a Nadal - Federer matchup deserves more, but then, whoever wins will most likely be playing a best of 5 sets match with a right handed version of Nadal the very next day. So, this seems fair.
Attacking the net has not been a part of Federer's gameplan for a long time now. Whether it was the case today because it was an inconsequential match, or whether it forebodes what is to come against Nadal, we will soon find out. He certainly cannot have the same success rate against Nadal. Today, even on those occasions that Roddick had a decent look at a passing shot, he mostly failed. It was apparent that his powerful topspins did not present much of a problem to Federer's volleys. Roddick needed to pass Federer with guile and precision rather than with power, but based on what I saw today, and also recollecting from memory, he does not seem to have that ability.
Nadal though, will be a totally different proposition. First, he will have that extra bit of time to hit his passes, and then, he can hit a loaded, killer angle pass from anywhere on court. Federer knows that very well and will adjust accordingly. But it was good to see him exhibit some rock solid volleying in match conditions. In spite of the aforementioned hazards, it should stand him in good stead for the semifinals.
Speaking of which, it is too bad that it is going to be a 3 set affair, for a Nadal - Federer matchup deserves more, but then, whoever wins will most likely be playing a best of 5 sets match with a right handed version of Nadal the very next day. So, this seems fair.
Monday, November 12, 2007
who will be 'The Master of the Universe'?
Even after Nalbandian disposed Federer for the second time in 10 days, I was backing Gasquet/Murray to clinch the final spot at the year end Masters.
Until this year, I don't remember being caught up in the race for a place at the Masters. But this time, with talents like Berdych, Gasquet, Murray and even Baghdatis in the reckoning, along with the consistent but unexceptional Robredo and Moya, the race got interesting going into Paris.
The draw out there was top heavy with the Masters' contenders. If their fire was doused by Federer and Djokovic as expected, the race wouldn't have picked up steam. But the magician Santoro dismantled Djoko, while Nalbandian tied up his HtoH record with Federer. This pretty much cleared the way for the contenders to secure a place with victory rather than by default. Murray and Gasquet made good progress to setup a shootout amongst themselves. Baghdatis kept the other half interesting. It was all building up nicely.
Nalbandian's surge had come too late this year and as a result, he was not in control of his destiny. Soon enough, other results put paid to his hopes for a place at the Masters. Gasquet clinching a thriller against Murray put him on pole position, and his place was cemented when Baghdatis lost out to Nadal.
At that point, I was extremely happy with the result and was backing Gasquet to go to Shanghai in fine style by clinching the the title of Paris. Much to my disappointment, Nalbandian brushed past him in straight sets. I missed the action, but reports indicate that it was a lopsided match. To confirm his prime form Nalbandian thumped Nadal in the final.
There can't be any complaints with the points race since it rewards consistency through the year, while making reservations for the brilliance of the Slam winners of that year who might have missed out for whatever reason. But its just that the in the light of the events from the last 3 weeks, the Masters without Nalbandian seems like devaluation of quality from a tournament that is meant to be all about quality. I wonder if his shadow will hang over the tournament. Maybe not. Particularly if the matches are exciting. But if Federer picks up the trophy there, questions, will be asked about Nalbandian's absence.
Federer faces some tough questions when he loses. Usually, he gives them a fair weighting and answers thoughtfully. He also gets asked about controversial topics within the sport. And he is not one that is shy to offer an opinion. Quite often, it is hard hitting in his own way (while the whole world seemed to be taken up by Djoko's antics at the US Open, check out what Federer had to say about the same). The reason he hasn't courted too much controversy is because of his stature in the game and the respect and admiration that he elicits even from the ones he slays regularly on court. So, if he wins and is asked about Nalbandian's absence, Federer might even answer that he would have preferred to have defeated him to win the title.
Instead of all that, it would just be great for the fans if one from Messrs 3 to 8 pulled out for a reason that I could not care about any less. Due apologies to the player if and when such an event happens, but if Nalbandian plays, Federer faces a considerable challenge from three players - Nadal, Djokovic, Nalbandian, and it is a long time since anything like that happened in the world of tennis. That ought to make it a fitting finale to another great year.
Update: Who needs Nalby? We've got Gonzo!
Until this year, I don't remember being caught up in the race for a place at the Masters. But this time, with talents like Berdych, Gasquet, Murray and even Baghdatis in the reckoning, along with the consistent but unexceptional Robredo and Moya, the race got interesting going into Paris.
The draw out there was top heavy with the Masters' contenders. If their fire was doused by Federer and Djokovic as expected, the race wouldn't have picked up steam. But the magician Santoro dismantled Djoko, while Nalbandian tied up his HtoH record with Federer. This pretty much cleared the way for the contenders to secure a place with victory rather than by default. Murray and Gasquet made good progress to setup a shootout amongst themselves. Baghdatis kept the other half interesting. It was all building up nicely.
Nalbandian's surge had come too late this year and as a result, he was not in control of his destiny. Soon enough, other results put paid to his hopes for a place at the Masters. Gasquet clinching a thriller against Murray put him on pole position, and his place was cemented when Baghdatis lost out to Nadal.
At that point, I was extremely happy with the result and was backing Gasquet to go to Shanghai in fine style by clinching the the title of Paris. Much to my disappointment, Nalbandian brushed past him in straight sets. I missed the action, but reports indicate that it was a lopsided match. To confirm his prime form Nalbandian thumped Nadal in the final.
There can't be any complaints with the points race since it rewards consistency through the year, while making reservations for the brilliance of the Slam winners of that year who might have missed out for whatever reason. But its just that the in the light of the events from the last 3 weeks, the Masters without Nalbandian seems like devaluation of quality from a tournament that is meant to be all about quality. I wonder if his shadow will hang over the tournament. Maybe not. Particularly if the matches are exciting. But if Federer picks up the trophy there, questions, will be asked about Nalbandian's absence.
Federer faces some tough questions when he loses. Usually, he gives them a fair weighting and answers thoughtfully. He also gets asked about controversial topics within the sport. And he is not one that is shy to offer an opinion. Quite often, it is hard hitting in his own way (while the whole world seemed to be taken up by Djoko's antics at the US Open, check out what Federer had to say about the same). The reason he hasn't courted too much controversy is because of his stature in the game and the respect and admiration that he elicits even from the ones he slays regularly on court. So, if he wins and is asked about Nalbandian's absence, Federer might even answer that he would have preferred to have defeated him to win the title.
Instead of all that, it would just be great for the fans if one from Messrs 3 to 8 pulled out for a reason that I could not care about any less. Due apologies to the player if and when such an event happens, but if Nalbandian plays, Federer faces a considerable challenge from three players - Nadal, Djokovic, Nalbandian, and it is a long time since anything like that happened in the world of tennis. That ought to make it a fitting finale to another great year.
Update: Who needs Nalby? We've got Gonzo!
Daily activities: sleep, work, eat and watch Chennai 600028
They say that the best things in life come unannounced. Partly, this is due the lack of expectation associated with it for there can't be much expected out of something that one doesn't even expect, right? And as a result of a basic human nature that always cherishes an unexpected bonus more than an expected one, the good seems even better in those cases.
In some ways this can skew an objective analysis of whatever it is that happened, but then, who are we kidding? What is objective analysis? It is always one man's viewpoint about something. Always colored. Anyway, critical analysis of this concept is not the idea here. It doesn't matter either, for the only thing that matters is the amount of joy that one one can derive from the specific event. The aforesaid is just meant to reiterate a truism of our lives.
On a regular basis, this truism is perceptible in the activity of movie watching. Watching one after reading/listening to the ranting and raving of a critic/friend almost always has disastrous consequences. It is mighty hard for any movie, even a good one, to live up to sky high expectations. As a result, it might leave the audience feeling flat, while even an average movie can seem very enjoyable simply due to the lack of expectation. It is also a well known fact that sequels suffer at the box office due to excessive expectation from the audience (it is another story that these movies thrive on the very same expectation and manage to rake up the box-office collections during the first weekend itself).
On this note, Chennai 600028 came quite unannounced into my life. I was in India, watching some television, when I chanced upon the bit from the movie, where Gopi is forced to give up his beloved bat to a bunch of schoolboys. People tell me that the background score is from Naayakan, while I firmly maintain that it is from Aboorva Sagodarargal. Whatever it is, that, and the sight of Gopi inconsolably sobbing, got me roaring in laughter. Since the movie was ready to be viewed at home, I promptly did.
To reiterate, the expectation versus quality debate is not what I am going to indulge in, here. Instead, "objectively" looking at it, I believe that the movie is genuine in quality and deserves all the praise that has come its way. A movie with cricket at its heart is a definite variant to the ones churned out by our cine industry. However, themes can do only so much. In fact, they raise expectation. The vital ingredients of a movie needs to be in place for it to be good.
The cast for Chennai 600028 is fresh faced. So is the director, I hear. This movie follows a group of boys belonging to the middle class strata of the Tamil society, through a year of cricket, friendship, romance and the usual. Having decided to focus on their everyday lives, it was important for the acts to be realistic but at the same time interesting. This is a pretty hard challenge to overcome, and not too many films manage to do so. Notably, Shankar's Boys miserably failed in this regard, with its very many over the top excesses and unrealistic scenarios. This one though, has only a few excesses, which are actually injected quite well into the screenplay.
For the portrayal of an everyday situation to work, the script and the screenplay are vital ingredients. The cast too has to do the needful. At their various gatherings in the movie, the primary subjects do a great job of conveying reality to the audience. Further, the ones in the background pleasantly surprised me by delivering some memorable lines and reactions. This appears to have been really well thought out. And the way it has been done is by establishing an identity for each one of the boys. They are not there just to make up the numbers.
The movie centers around Raghu, Arvind, Karthik and Palani. Seenu gets a fair bit of air time. But the others too have their moments. Notable acts of the 'others' include Ezhumalai's belated career related realization, Gopi's affair with his bat and Imran's propensity to initiate fights, which is stated right at the beginning and depicted throughout. Just thinking of those incidents makes me laugh now.
It might be because they are fresh faced, thus devoid of any baggage from the past, or because they are just so darn good, but the cast's on screen chemistry makes the acts of camaraderie, bantering and fist fights really work. Arvind regaling his mates with details of his initial meeting and initial 'contact' with his love interest, Shwetha, are two of my twenty odd favorite scenes from the movie.
The cricket action sequences and the humor are two of the obvious positives. Unlike most Tamil movies, the humor is interwoven with the main screenplay. This lends a nice balance to the various events in the the movie. The minor plots pervading the movie, the language, the gestures, the dialogues and the timely digs, cohesively establish the movie's authentic portrayal. This was the key.
As should be obvious to anyone who has viewed this movie already, the mood is fairly light through the entire duration. Amidst this scenario, the two acts featuring the angry and the apologetic confrontations between Palani and Karthick stand out for the way they have been depicted. Instead of indulging in excessive melodrama that is typical for a tamil movie, the two protagonists let it all out in a very honest manner, with the rest of the group getting into the act with timely actions and comments. In the end, their reconciliation is handled in keeping with the theme of the movie. Well done!
Notice the sheer joy in the above picture? What else but cricket can make a bunch of guys revel in this manner? Must have been an India - Pakistan encounter....
The year was 2004 and India was touring Pakistan for the first time in 15 years. This was the first contest between the two sides since the Kargil war. It is always a great occassion when there is excitement and tension in the air. So it was then. And almost as if scripted, the ODI series went down to the fifth game with the score tied 2-2. Thanks to Laxman, we scored 293, thus setting Pak a fairly difficult chase under the lights. It is worth noting though, that India had chased down the very same target in the previous match at the very same venue. This game though, we had them in early trouble at 58/4. They were behind on the run rate too.
We were around 25 of us, graduate students at the University of Cincinnati., gathered in our living room, way past midnight, eyes glued to the TV. We knew that India was in the driver's seat, but at that point, no one felt the release of tension as yet. All of us bore the scars inflicted by various Inzi and Razzaq and Moin Khan led match winning recovery acts. Here, Inzi was in the center with Razzaq and Moin still to come. So, we just stayed put and kept silent.
Murali Kartik, the man of the moment now, was in the thick of action then. He was bowling a good spell, giving the ball a fair bit of air and gaining some turn as a result. This though made him susceptible to Inzi jumping out of the crease and planting one over the boundary. To be fair, not too many spinners aren't susceptible to that. Anyway, there he was, bowling to Inzi, who had already scored a few boundaries, and worse, looked like he was having a hit in the nets while doing so. To one Kartik delivery, Inzi stepped out and went hard at it.
Eyes strained to follow the arc of the ball. Television cameras always follow the ball's trajectory, but they do not offer the viewer any insight into its position with respect to the playing field (due to camera position and the altitude of the traveling ball). What this does, is to leave the viewer in the dark about the destination of the ball. One can see the ball go high up into the air, seemingly traveling for eternity and then coming down into the hands of a fielder who is well inside the boundary line. Perspective of distance traveled is lost amidst the blue background of the sky.
So, as the ball was flying towards the boundary, we did not know what the result would be. Surely, it did not seem like he hit it perfectly, but this was Inzi, and it seemed like the ball might have the legs to fly over the boundary. Just before it almost did, Sachin Tendulkar, running along the boundary rope, grabbed it at full stretch and set off in celebration towards the rest.
The match wasn't won. We weren't even sure if Sachin had stepped on the boundary line during this piece of action. But we just couldn't hold it anymore. Each one erupted with very original convulsions of arm, leg and body. The roar of relief and joy was quite uniform though. I just wish that someone had taken a picture of us right then. It would have had striking similarities to the one above.
In some ways this can skew an objective analysis of whatever it is that happened, but then, who are we kidding? What is objective analysis? It is always one man's viewpoint about something. Always colored. Anyway, critical analysis of this concept is not the idea here. It doesn't matter either, for the only thing that matters is the amount of joy that one one can derive from the specific event. The aforesaid is just meant to reiterate a truism of our lives.
On a regular basis, this truism is perceptible in the activity of movie watching. Watching one after reading/listening to the ranting and raving of a critic/friend almost always has disastrous consequences. It is mighty hard for any movie, even a good one, to live up to sky high expectations. As a result, it might leave the audience feeling flat, while even an average movie can seem very enjoyable simply due to the lack of expectation. It is also a well known fact that sequels suffer at the box office due to excessive expectation from the audience (it is another story that these movies thrive on the very same expectation and manage to rake up the box-office collections during the first weekend itself).
On this note, Chennai 600028 came quite unannounced into my life. I was in India, watching some television, when I chanced upon the bit from the movie, where Gopi is forced to give up his beloved bat to a bunch of schoolboys. People tell me that the background score is from Naayakan, while I firmly maintain that it is from Aboorva Sagodarargal. Whatever it is, that, and the sight of Gopi inconsolably sobbing, got me roaring in laughter. Since the movie was ready to be viewed at home, I promptly did.
To reiterate, the expectation versus quality debate is not what I am going to indulge in, here. Instead, "objectively" looking at it, I believe that the movie is genuine in quality and deserves all the praise that has come its way. A movie with cricket at its heart is a definite variant to the ones churned out by our cine industry. However, themes can do only so much. In fact, they raise expectation. The vital ingredients of a movie needs to be in place for it to be good.
The cast for Chennai 600028 is fresh faced. So is the director, I hear. This movie follows a group of boys belonging to the middle class strata of the Tamil society, through a year of cricket, friendship, romance and the usual. Having decided to focus on their everyday lives, it was important for the acts to be realistic but at the same time interesting. This is a pretty hard challenge to overcome, and not too many films manage to do so. Notably, Shankar's Boys miserably failed in this regard, with its very many over the top excesses and unrealistic scenarios. This one though, has only a few excesses, which are actually injected quite well into the screenplay.
For the portrayal of an everyday situation to work, the script and the screenplay are vital ingredients. The cast too has to do the needful. At their various gatherings in the movie, the primary subjects do a great job of conveying reality to the audience. Further, the ones in the background pleasantly surprised me by delivering some memorable lines and reactions. This appears to have been really well thought out. And the way it has been done is by establishing an identity for each one of the boys. They are not there just to make up the numbers.
The movie centers around Raghu, Arvind, Karthik and Palani. Seenu gets a fair bit of air time. But the others too have their moments. Notable acts of the 'others' include Ezhumalai's belated career related realization, Gopi's affair with his bat and Imran's propensity to initiate fights, which is stated right at the beginning and depicted throughout. Just thinking of those incidents makes me laugh now.
It might be because they are fresh faced, thus devoid of any baggage from the past, or because they are just so darn good, but the cast's on screen chemistry makes the acts of camaraderie, bantering and fist fights really work. Arvind regaling his mates with details of his initial meeting and initial 'contact' with his love interest, Shwetha, are two of my twenty odd favorite scenes from the movie.
The cricket action sequences and the humor are two of the obvious positives. Unlike most Tamil movies, the humor is interwoven with the main screenplay. This lends a nice balance to the various events in the the movie. The minor plots pervading the movie, the language, the gestures, the dialogues and the timely digs, cohesively establish the movie's authentic portrayal. This was the key.
As should be obvious to anyone who has viewed this movie already, the mood is fairly light through the entire duration. Amidst this scenario, the two acts featuring the angry and the apologetic confrontations between Palani and Karthick stand out for the way they have been depicted. Instead of indulging in excessive melodrama that is typical for a tamil movie, the two protagonists let it all out in a very honest manner, with the rest of the group getting into the act with timely actions and comments. In the end, their reconciliation is handled in keeping with the theme of the movie. Well done!
Notice the sheer joy in the above picture? What else but cricket can make a bunch of guys revel in this manner? Must have been an India - Pakistan encounter....
The year was 2004 and India was touring Pakistan for the first time in 15 years. This was the first contest between the two sides since the Kargil war. It is always a great occassion when there is excitement and tension in the air. So it was then. And almost as if scripted, the ODI series went down to the fifth game with the score tied 2-2. Thanks to Laxman, we scored 293, thus setting Pak a fairly difficult chase under the lights. It is worth noting though, that India had chased down the very same target in the previous match at the very same venue. This game though, we had them in early trouble at 58/4. They were behind on the run rate too.
We were around 25 of us, graduate students at the University of Cincinnati., gathered in our living room, way past midnight, eyes glued to the TV. We knew that India was in the driver's seat, but at that point, no one felt the release of tension as yet. All of us bore the scars inflicted by various Inzi and Razzaq and Moin Khan led match winning recovery acts. Here, Inzi was in the center with Razzaq and Moin still to come. So, we just stayed put and kept silent.
Murali Kartik, the man of the moment now, was in the thick of action then. He was bowling a good spell, giving the ball a fair bit of air and gaining some turn as a result. This though made him susceptible to Inzi jumping out of the crease and planting one over the boundary. To be fair, not too many spinners aren't susceptible to that. Anyway, there he was, bowling to Inzi, who had already scored a few boundaries, and worse, looked like he was having a hit in the nets while doing so. To one Kartik delivery, Inzi stepped out and went hard at it.
Eyes strained to follow the arc of the ball. Television cameras always follow the ball's trajectory, but they do not offer the viewer any insight into its position with respect to the playing field (due to camera position and the altitude of the traveling ball). What this does, is to leave the viewer in the dark about the destination of the ball. One can see the ball go high up into the air, seemingly traveling for eternity and then coming down into the hands of a fielder who is well inside the boundary line. Perspective of distance traveled is lost amidst the blue background of the sky.
So, as the ball was flying towards the boundary, we did not know what the result would be. Surely, it did not seem like he hit it perfectly, but this was Inzi, and it seemed like the ball might have the legs to fly over the boundary. Just before it almost did, Sachin Tendulkar, running along the boundary rope, grabbed it at full stretch and set off in celebration towards the rest.
The match wasn't won. We weren't even sure if Sachin had stepped on the boundary line during this piece of action. But we just couldn't hold it anymore. Each one erupted with very original convulsions of arm, leg and body. The roar of relief and joy was quite uniform though. I just wish that someone had taken a picture of us right then. It would have had striking similarities to the one above.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Hopefully, it can be resolved
I watched most of Federer's consecutive defeats to Canas earlier this year, all of his loss to Nadal at Roland Garros and some of the action from his loss to Djokovic at Montreal. I also saw him struggle through the Wimbledon final, where he pretty much served his way out of trouble and then played vintage tennis for the final four games. Of course, besides these, I watched most of his Grand Slam matches (thus, victories) and some of the ones he played at the Masters series. Now, 10 or so days after his loss to Nalbandian at Madrid, which I slept through, I am watching the two go head to head in Paris. Nalby is up a double break in the first set.
Nalbandian was a revelation at Wimbledon'02 where he reached the finals from nowhere. Hewitt rolled over him in the championship match, but Nalby's clean hitting off both flanks made people take notice of his talent. Further, it was presumed that he had the game to be a contender on all surfaces, unlike most of his countrymen. Over the next couple of years, he rose to the top echelons of the sport and was a fairly consistent presence at the second week of a Slam.
During this period, with enormous expectation, due to his potential and his impressive record against Federer, I've watched a few of their matches (Not the Masters'05 though), where unfailingly, he produced uninspiring tennis. So much so, that I was inclined to switch channels mid-match. When Nalby plays badly it is so easy for the viewer to get disillusioned since his body language exudes disinterest. Having developed an apathy, I did not care for his semifinal runs at the Australian Open'06 and French Open'06. Soon after, his results nosedived. He fell out of the top 10. This year, he hardly created a ripple. Until Madrid.
Delivering a career verdict with a happy ending - top talent, shone early, struggled for a few years with a few highlights and playing inch perfect tennis now - would be easy, but unfair, since I have hardly followed his career with interest.
Now though, I am watching him, and I can say with assurance that he is hitting the ball as cleanly as anyone, including Federer, can. This is not meant to indicate that he is playing at the level of vintage Federer, for one can lay claim to that only if one can invent new angles for strokeplay every alternate point. But he is probably playing as well as anyone else can play this game. He is yanking Federer around the court and dominating him with his baseline hitting.
Update: Federer down a set and a break. Nalbandian serving for the match.
Like I said, I witnessed most of Federer's losses this year, which isn't a lot anyway. I've also watched his victories. Through all of them, it is noticeable that his forehand topspin is misfiring. Again, I say this with assurance and (I believe) not as a knee jerk reaction.
With everything else in place, Federer can win Slams with a misfiring forehand. That is precisely what he has done. Lest anyone needs reminding, he won 3 Slams this year. But it is when he has his forehand firing that he can dish out those bagel sets at will. On those instances, his opponents haven't a chance. They don't have a place to go to, on court.
I don't have the stats with me, but I do not remember any bagel sets this year. No one needs to remind me of the Federer - Roddick game at the Aus Open. He played that match as well as tennis could be played. But has he bageled anyone this year? He probably did, but I don't remember any. Which means that there weren't too many. This is in complete contrast to his results over the last three years. My sincere apologies Sir Federer, but there are just too many forehands of yours that go long/wide or are completely mis-hit during prolonged rallying. There is just no place for that in your game.
I feel guilty saying this, for this is like asking Sampras to work on his serve, but if Federer intends to fulfill his stated ambition of staying on top when the 2012 London Olympics come up, he better work on his topspin forehand.
Update: Nalbandian wins 6-4 7-6(3)!
Nalbandian was a revelation at Wimbledon'02 where he reached the finals from nowhere. Hewitt rolled over him in the championship match, but Nalby's clean hitting off both flanks made people take notice of his talent. Further, it was presumed that he had the game to be a contender on all surfaces, unlike most of his countrymen. Over the next couple of years, he rose to the top echelons of the sport and was a fairly consistent presence at the second week of a Slam.
During this period, with enormous expectation, due to his potential and his impressive record against Federer, I've watched a few of their matches (Not the Masters'05 though), where unfailingly, he produced uninspiring tennis. So much so, that I was inclined to switch channels mid-match. When Nalby plays badly it is so easy for the viewer to get disillusioned since his body language exudes disinterest. Having developed an apathy, I did not care for his semifinal runs at the Australian Open'06 and French Open'06. Soon after, his results nosedived. He fell out of the top 10. This year, he hardly created a ripple. Until Madrid.
Delivering a career verdict with a happy ending - top talent, shone early, struggled for a few years with a few highlights and playing inch perfect tennis now - would be easy, but unfair, since I have hardly followed his career with interest.
Now though, I am watching him, and I can say with assurance that he is hitting the ball as cleanly as anyone, including Federer, can. This is not meant to indicate that he is playing at the level of vintage Federer, for one can lay claim to that only if one can invent new angles for strokeplay every alternate point. But he is probably playing as well as anyone else can play this game. He is yanking Federer around the court and dominating him with his baseline hitting.
Update: Federer down a set and a break. Nalbandian serving for the match.
Like I said, I witnessed most of Federer's losses this year, which isn't a lot anyway. I've also watched his victories. Through all of them, it is noticeable that his forehand topspin is misfiring. Again, I say this with assurance and (I believe) not as a knee jerk reaction.
With everything else in place, Federer can win Slams with a misfiring forehand. That is precisely what he has done. Lest anyone needs reminding, he won 3 Slams this year. But it is when he has his forehand firing that he can dish out those bagel sets at will. On those instances, his opponents haven't a chance. They don't have a place to go to, on court.
I don't have the stats with me, but I do not remember any bagel sets this year. No one needs to remind me of the Federer - Roddick game at the Aus Open. He played that match as well as tennis could be played. But has he bageled anyone this year? He probably did, but I don't remember any. Which means that there weren't too many. This is in complete contrast to his results over the last three years. My sincere apologies Sir Federer, but there are just too many forehands of yours that go long/wide or are completely mis-hit during prolonged rallying. There is just no place for that in your game.
I feel guilty saying this, for this is like asking Sampras to work on his serve, but if Federer intends to fulfill his stated ambition of staying on top when the 2012 London Olympics come up, he better work on his topspin forehand.
Update: Nalbandian wins 6-4 7-6(3)!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Brazilian redemption
364 days after being at the receiving end of Michael Schumacher's final heroic maneouvre in F1, Kimi Raikkonen has reached the promised land.
Coming into the Brazilian Grand Prix of 2006, Michael Schumacher (Schumy) needed to win the race and further, needed Alonso to not score a point, to clinch the Driver's Championship. Both requirements were possible, with the former being highly probable but the latter quite unlikely, since the Renault had shown bullet proof reliability through the entire season, Monza notwithstanding. However, if at all one needs reminding, the Ferrari team is the one that had set the standards for reliability through the current decade, and it was the Michael Schumacher piloted 248F1's engine blowup in the previous race that had landed him in that tight spot. So, as the cliche goes, anything was possible.
And "anything" did happen. Except that, instead of Schumy getting the luck he hoped for and Alonso running out of it, Schumy faced further trouble with his Ferrari during qualifying. He did not come out for a single lap during Q3, and as a result, started the race in 10th position. He started well enough, and was clinically dismantling his rivals one by one, as he continued his inexorable rise to the top. In keeping with the trend, his tire failed soon after he went past Fisichella. What made it worse was that, this happened right after the first corner. So, he limped through one whole lap, dragging his Ferrari on three wheels, possibly damaging the underside, before being able to change tires. He rejoined the track just in front of his teammate and race leader Massa, which meant that he was around 75 seconds away from where he needed to be.
From here, he put on a charge that was as compelling as any I've witnessed. He had a willing car underneath him, but it was his genius that kept it lap after lap for 50 odd laps, at the fine line that separates lap records and spectacular accidents. He made up time on the leaders by the "couple of seconds". By the time the final pitstops were done, he was in the points, and looking to go better. His rival Alonso was safe and steady in second place. So, he could not do much about the championship battle, but he definitely could decide the race standings. After progressing through the field, notably, past the the Honda of Barrichello and the BMWs, he came up behind Fisichella. The Renault was quick and it took Schumy a while to get past him. This was the phase where he lost the time to catch up with Alonso on track.
Massa, Alonso and Button were holding down the podium positions. Schumy was at No.5. Few seconds ahead of him was Kimi Raikkonen, driving a McLaren, and also, the man who was taking his seat at Ferrari for the 2007 season. Schumy caught up with Kimi, tried and failed to pull off an outrageous move around the outside at one of the slow corners. 3 laps from the end, he got into Kimi's slipstream down the straight. Noticing the impending attack, Kimi covered the inside line. Undeterred, Schumy snuck himself into whatever space that was left between Kimi and wall, outbraked him, and went through. I think that that was the only time during the entire race that I allowed myself a smile. The irony of the last act was not lost on me.
But today is Raikkonen day. It is Oct 21st 2007. Kimi has driven the scarlet Ferrari this season, while his arch rivals sit in the silver McLaren. Coming into the Brazilian GP, Kimi's position was not as hopeless as Schumy's. He was 7 points behind Hamilton. There were a couple of possibilities for Kimi to win this year's championship, but the easier one (and by easier, I mean, the easier one for me to remember) was that, Kimi had to win the race, Massa or anyone bar Alonso had to be second, and Hamilton had to be lower than 5th. McLaren hadn't had a single reliability based DID NOT FINISH (DNF) through the entire season. In spite of the reliability stakes being pushed higher and higher through the years, this was unprecedented. So, the odds on Kimi being crowned champion were really long.
Massa, Hamilton, Kimi and Alonso qualified in that order. Speculation was that, if Ferrari had the legs on the McLaren during the race, they could very well get a 1-2 and Massa wouldn't be the 1 for sure. But McLaren surely was quick enough to easily stay out of reach of the BMW and the Williams. So, at worst, Hamilton had fourth place sewn up, which would land him the championship.
My only hope was for Kimi to win the race, thereby claiming the bragging rights along the lines of losing a championship in spite of having won more races (6) than his championship rivals (4, for both Hamilton and Alonso). Kimi was almost expected to get ahead of Hamilton at the 1st corner, and he did. And with the way things turned out, Kimi slotting in behind Massa, caused Hamilton to lose some momentum, thereby enabling Alonso to pass him at the Senna Esses. At the end of the back straight, Hamilton made a desperate lunge at Alonso, went off track and rejoined in 8th position.
There was a long way to go, and the pattern of the race had not been established yet. After a few laps, it appeared as though Massa and Kimi were able to comfortably increase the lead over Alonso by about half a second a lap. Alonso's pursuers were Kubica, Webber, Heidfeld and Hamilton in that order, and none of those bar Hamilton had the pace to keep up with him. Soon enough Hamilton had dispatched Heidfeld. This is when the television producers took a commercial break.
At this point, I was still a little groggy for two reasons. One - I was quite pessimistic about Kimi's chances for the championship. Two - I had had an extremely late, tiring Saturday night. What caught my attention and violently shook me out of my lethargy was the text commentary on www.f1.com about Hamilton's demise. Sure enough, by the time the video broadcast came back on, he was lying in last place. Realization that his McLaren was up and firing again made me queasy. No one knew what the problem was. And no one could calculate where he would land if he continued problem free from there on. Now, the nerves jangled. They haven't since Oct 22nd 2006 for any F1 related reason. But now, the possibilities were clear. If Kimi did not suffer mechanical trouble, he would win the race. The variable was Hamilton's progress through the field. That would decide the fate of this year's Driver's Championship.
Massa and Kimi made serene progress. They put daylight between them and the rest. Hamilton too made progress. He roared back through the field. But a distinct suspicion that he would have to make an extra pitstop compared to the rest remained.
It was also going to be interesting to see how Ferrari would handle the Massa - Kimi switch. The second and final pitstop would hold the key. Kimi had three extra laps. On the first one, he set purple (fastest) on all three sectors. His second was only marginally slower. The third was as quick, and at the end of it, he pulled into the pitlane. While this should normally ensure track position, trouble was that Massa pretty much matched his times on fresh tires. So, it was going to be nip and tick. And it was. Kimi rejoined just a few metres ahead of Massa. Ahead was the key. It stayed that way to the end.
Hamilton had already made two pitstops, and when he came out after the second one, found himself a lap down on the Ferraris. The Ferrari's second stop put him back on the same lap as the leaders, but his progress wasn't as fast as it needed to be for him to snatch 5th. Sure enough, he made one more stop, and went back a lap down. As fate would have it, a few seconds behind the Ferraris. So, every shot of Kimi and Massa, showed Hamilton's McLaren in the background.
As the laps ticked down, it became obvious that the only thing that could disrupt Kimi's coronation would be the retirements of two of the top 6. Ahead of Hamilton, Heidfeld, Rosberg and Kubica were locked in battle. Surely, things could turn sour for two of them. And they almost did when Rosberg made an optimistic dive down the inside of Heidfeld at Turn 1. Heidfeld did not expect this, but thankfully, decided to avoid contact rather than shut the gap. This led to both of them sliding wide at the corner. Kubica shot through. Kubica opened a gap over Rosberg, who in turn opened one over Heidfeld. But the hostilities did not end there. Kubica's tires started graining and soon enough, he fell into the clutches of Rosberg. They waged a battle for a couple of laps, and Rosberg finally swept past and drove away. Only a handful of laps remained.
The quirky nature of the situation meant that in spite of Kimi, Massa and Hamilton (one lap down) being the first ones to take the chequered flag, the final championship standing could not be confirmed. Alonso, Rosberg, Kubica and Heidfeld still had the major part of the final lap to complete. So, Kimi could not celebrate. And Hamilton must have been nursing a faint hope. Thankfully, status quo was maintained.
Kimi celebrated with some arm thrusting and a bright smile. Massa looked to be on the verge of tears. Not because he lost the championship, but because, he could not win in front of his faithful Paulistas. Alonso seemed content. Hamilton appeared to have taken the result in his stride.
As for me, I am happy rather than ecstatic, for Kimi is not Schumy to me. Plus, this was no finale. Next year, Kimi is set at Ferrari. Likewise, Hamilton at McLaren. And I hope Alonso will reunite with Renault. Their head to head duels will light up the track in the years to come. Truth be told, the battles have just begun.
Coming into the Brazilian Grand Prix of 2006, Michael Schumacher (Schumy) needed to win the race and further, needed Alonso to not score a point, to clinch the Driver's Championship. Both requirements were possible, with the former being highly probable but the latter quite unlikely, since the Renault had shown bullet proof reliability through the entire season, Monza notwithstanding. However, if at all one needs reminding, the Ferrari team is the one that had set the standards for reliability through the current decade, and it was the Michael Schumacher piloted 248F1's engine blowup in the previous race that had landed him in that tight spot. So, as the cliche goes, anything was possible.
And "anything" did happen. Except that, instead of Schumy getting the luck he hoped for and Alonso running out of it, Schumy faced further trouble with his Ferrari during qualifying. He did not come out for a single lap during Q3, and as a result, started the race in 10th position. He started well enough, and was clinically dismantling his rivals one by one, as he continued his inexorable rise to the top. In keeping with the trend, his tire failed soon after he went past Fisichella. What made it worse was that, this happened right after the first corner. So, he limped through one whole lap, dragging his Ferrari on three wheels, possibly damaging the underside, before being able to change tires. He rejoined the track just in front of his teammate and race leader Massa, which meant that he was around 75 seconds away from where he needed to be.
From here, he put on a charge that was as compelling as any I've witnessed. He had a willing car underneath him, but it was his genius that kept it lap after lap for 50 odd laps, at the fine line that separates lap records and spectacular accidents. He made up time on the leaders by the "couple of seconds". By the time the final pitstops were done, he was in the points, and looking to go better. His rival Alonso was safe and steady in second place. So, he could not do much about the championship battle, but he definitely could decide the race standings. After progressing through the field, notably, past the the Honda of Barrichello and the BMWs, he came up behind Fisichella. The Renault was quick and it took Schumy a while to get past him. This was the phase where he lost the time to catch up with Alonso on track.
Massa, Alonso and Button were holding down the podium positions. Schumy was at No.5. Few seconds ahead of him was Kimi Raikkonen, driving a McLaren, and also, the man who was taking his seat at Ferrari for the 2007 season. Schumy caught up with Kimi, tried and failed to pull off an outrageous move around the outside at one of the slow corners. 3 laps from the end, he got into Kimi's slipstream down the straight. Noticing the impending attack, Kimi covered the inside line. Undeterred, Schumy snuck himself into whatever space that was left between Kimi and wall, outbraked him, and went through. I think that that was the only time during the entire race that I allowed myself a smile. The irony of the last act was not lost on me.
But today is Raikkonen day. It is Oct 21st 2007. Kimi has driven the scarlet Ferrari this season, while his arch rivals sit in the silver McLaren. Coming into the Brazilian GP, Kimi's position was not as hopeless as Schumy's. He was 7 points behind Hamilton. There were a couple of possibilities for Kimi to win this year's championship, but the easier one (and by easier, I mean, the easier one for me to remember) was that, Kimi had to win the race, Massa or anyone bar Alonso had to be second, and Hamilton had to be lower than 5th. McLaren hadn't had a single reliability based DID NOT FINISH (DNF) through the entire season. In spite of the reliability stakes being pushed higher and higher through the years, this was unprecedented. So, the odds on Kimi being crowned champion were really long.
Massa, Hamilton, Kimi and Alonso qualified in that order. Speculation was that, if Ferrari had the legs on the McLaren during the race, they could very well get a 1-2 and Massa wouldn't be the 1 for sure. But McLaren surely was quick enough to easily stay out of reach of the BMW and the Williams. So, at worst, Hamilton had fourth place sewn up, which would land him the championship.
My only hope was for Kimi to win the race, thereby claiming the bragging rights along the lines of losing a championship in spite of having won more races (6) than his championship rivals (4, for both Hamilton and Alonso). Kimi was almost expected to get ahead of Hamilton at the 1st corner, and he did. And with the way things turned out, Kimi slotting in behind Massa, caused Hamilton to lose some momentum, thereby enabling Alonso to pass him at the Senna Esses. At the end of the back straight, Hamilton made a desperate lunge at Alonso, went off track and rejoined in 8th position.
There was a long way to go, and the pattern of the race had not been established yet. After a few laps, it appeared as though Massa and Kimi were able to comfortably increase the lead over Alonso by about half a second a lap. Alonso's pursuers were Kubica, Webber, Heidfeld and Hamilton in that order, and none of those bar Hamilton had the pace to keep up with him. Soon enough Hamilton had dispatched Heidfeld. This is when the television producers took a commercial break.
At this point, I was still a little groggy for two reasons. One - I was quite pessimistic about Kimi's chances for the championship. Two - I had had an extremely late, tiring Saturday night. What caught my attention and violently shook me out of my lethargy was the text commentary on www.f1.com about Hamilton's demise. Sure enough, by the time the video broadcast came back on, he was lying in last place. Realization that his McLaren was up and firing again made me queasy. No one knew what the problem was. And no one could calculate where he would land if he continued problem free from there on. Now, the nerves jangled. They haven't since Oct 22nd 2006 for any F1 related reason. But now, the possibilities were clear. If Kimi did not suffer mechanical trouble, he would win the race. The variable was Hamilton's progress through the field. That would decide the fate of this year's Driver's Championship.
Massa and Kimi made serene progress. They put daylight between them and the rest. Hamilton too made progress. He roared back through the field. But a distinct suspicion that he would have to make an extra pitstop compared to the rest remained.
It was also going to be interesting to see how Ferrari would handle the Massa - Kimi switch. The second and final pitstop would hold the key. Kimi had three extra laps. On the first one, he set purple (fastest) on all three sectors. His second was only marginally slower. The third was as quick, and at the end of it, he pulled into the pitlane. While this should normally ensure track position, trouble was that Massa pretty much matched his times on fresh tires. So, it was going to be nip and tick. And it was. Kimi rejoined just a few metres ahead of Massa. Ahead was the key. It stayed that way to the end.
Hamilton had already made two pitstops, and when he came out after the second one, found himself a lap down on the Ferraris. The Ferrari's second stop put him back on the same lap as the leaders, but his progress wasn't as fast as it needed to be for him to snatch 5th. Sure enough, he made one more stop, and went back a lap down. As fate would have it, a few seconds behind the Ferraris. So, every shot of Kimi and Massa, showed Hamilton's McLaren in the background.
As the laps ticked down, it became obvious that the only thing that could disrupt Kimi's coronation would be the retirements of two of the top 6. Ahead of Hamilton, Heidfeld, Rosberg and Kubica were locked in battle. Surely, things could turn sour for two of them. And they almost did when Rosberg made an optimistic dive down the inside of Heidfeld at Turn 1. Heidfeld did not expect this, but thankfully, decided to avoid contact rather than shut the gap. This led to both of them sliding wide at the corner. Kubica shot through. Kubica opened a gap over Rosberg, who in turn opened one over Heidfeld. But the hostilities did not end there. Kubica's tires started graining and soon enough, he fell into the clutches of Rosberg. They waged a battle for a couple of laps, and Rosberg finally swept past and drove away. Only a handful of laps remained.
The quirky nature of the situation meant that in spite of Kimi, Massa and Hamilton (one lap down) being the first ones to take the chequered flag, the final championship standing could not be confirmed. Alonso, Rosberg, Kubica and Heidfeld still had the major part of the final lap to complete. So, Kimi could not celebrate. And Hamilton must have been nursing a faint hope. Thankfully, status quo was maintained.
Kimi celebrated with some arm thrusting and a bright smile. Massa looked to be on the verge of tears. Not because he lost the championship, but because, he could not win in front of his faithful Paulistas. Alonso seemed content. Hamilton appeared to have taken the result in his stride.
As for me, I am happy rather than ecstatic, for Kimi is not Schumy to me. Plus, this was no finale. Next year, Kimi is set at Ferrari. Likewise, Hamilton at McLaren. And I hope Alonso will reunite with Renault. Their head to head duels will light up the track in the years to come. Truth be told, the battles have just begun.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
witty Jack inspires
It was one of those pleasant, leisurely evenings. Not having much to do, or watch on TV, I played the DVD of Pirates of the Carribean: Curse of the Black Pearl on my laptop. I have this habit of watching some of my favorite movies repeatedly. Actually, watching is not the right word. Hearing would be. What I do is, continue browsing, as the movie is being played. This is one of the clearest symptoms of the disease called "compulsive multi-tasking" that I suffer from. Other manifestations include online chatting and talking on the phone at the same time, with browsing mixing in with either or sometimes both. Another is watching TV and browsing at the same time. Now that I look at it, "compulsive browsing" would be a more accurate medical term for my disease. Anyway, in spite of having seen the movie several times previously, the mood today was just right for me to enjoy the very many witty repartees of Captain Jack Sparrow.
Over the years, I've heard first hand tales that movies inspire viewers who are strongly influenced by it, to perform certain deeds or accomplish difficult tasks. Movies have left strong impressions on me. But I don't recall myself putting any of those to good use. So, I've always been cynical of the idea. Not anymore.
While reveling in listening to the movie, I was inclined to send across the following exchange to a friend of mine.
Will: You cheated. In a fair fight, I'd kill you!
Jack: That's not much incentive for me to fight fair, then, is it?!
(Jack swings the mast overboard, which takes Will with it. Following which he hands out some of the truest philosophy in the simplest of words)
Jack: As long as you are hanging in there, listen! The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do, and what a man can't do.
Sometime later, with the movie still on, I was involved in a chat on gmail with another friend of mine. The discussion was fairly serious. Fairly 'immigration'al, actually. Further, we got around to discussing about his workplace and a recent feedback he received from his manager. The exchange went thus...
Bicker: They also said that my "thought patterns" for problem solving were impressive. I don't know where that came from.
Me: "Thought patterns" usually originate in the brain. So, in your case, I don't know either!
It just rolled off the fingers. I didn't blink, neither did I need to think. He never knew what hit him. Not until it slid down his head, to his back, all the way down and bit him in the butt. What was he thinking, handing me a bait like that?! In the mood I was in, the Spanish armada couldn't have stopped me. Now, I presume that my induction into wit's Hall of Fame is just a matter of time.
One could say, that I struck gold today. Though, Bicker would say that I was probably struck by gold today. Either way, it was fun.
Over the years, I've heard first hand tales that movies inspire viewers who are strongly influenced by it, to perform certain deeds or accomplish difficult tasks. Movies have left strong impressions on me. But I don't recall myself putting any of those to good use. So, I've always been cynical of the idea. Not anymore.
While reveling in listening to the movie, I was inclined to send across the following exchange to a friend of mine.
Will: You cheated. In a fair fight, I'd kill you!
Jack: That's not much incentive for me to fight fair, then, is it?!
(Jack swings the mast overboard, which takes Will with it. Following which he hands out some of the truest philosophy in the simplest of words)
Jack: As long as you are hanging in there, listen! The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do, and what a man can't do.
Sometime later, with the movie still on, I was involved in a chat on gmail with another friend of mine. The discussion was fairly serious. Fairly 'immigration'al, actually. Further, we got around to discussing about his workplace and a recent feedback he received from his manager. The exchange went thus...
Bicker: They also said that my "thought patterns" for problem solving were impressive. I don't know where that came from.
Me: "Thought patterns" usually originate in the brain. So, in your case, I don't know either!
It just rolled off the fingers. I didn't blink, neither did I need to think. He never knew what hit him. Not until it slid down his head, to his back, all the way down and bit him in the butt. What was he thinking, handing me a bait like that?! In the mood I was in, the Spanish armada couldn't have stopped me. Now, I presume that my induction into wit's Hall of Fame is just a matter of time.
One could say, that I struck gold today. Though, Bicker would say that I was probably struck by gold today. Either way, it was fun.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
A tale of two journeys
During my last visit to India, I experienced the pleasure and pain, of traveling from Chennai to Bangalore and back by train, during an extended weekend trip. Due to last minute planning, my reservation landed me a seat in the non A/C section of the Lal Bagh Express, with the word express being a clear misnomer. As it turned out, the train's departure time was about five hours after that of my H1-B visa appointment at the American Embassy in Chennai. Expectedly, I wasn't feeling particularly cheerful that morning, but by the time I was ready to embark on this journey, I was in fairly high spirits. Events panned out well at the Embassy.
Arriving well ahead of time at the station, and recalling horror stories from the past about being hounded out of a seat by ticketless travelers, I took mine and did not budge even when I felt the temptation to pick up a Dairy Milk from one of the platform vendors. Thankfully, there was no trouble with the seating, and I did have the pleasure of a window seat, albeit, not with the wind in my face. As the seats got taken, the chatter level increased beyond my comfort zone. Worse, since it wasn't in English or Tamil, it was pure, unadulterated noise to me. Thankfully, I was well prepared for such a scenario. With an iPod in my pocket and Richie Benaud's "My Spin on Cricket" in hand, I was all ready to shut out the surroundings.
Surprisingly, the headphones did not come on, and only 20 or so pages of the book were turned. Instead, my ears got used to the cacophony soon enough, and my eyes just feasted on the sights that I hadn't seen in ages. There were school grounds with multiple cricket matches going on, there were gangs hanging out with no purpose whatsoever, but most of all, there were vast expanses of cultivated and uncultivated land. To be perfectly honest, I can't claim that they were beautiful in an aesthetic sense, but they kept me engaged until it went dark, and I could see no more.
During this journey, every 15 minutes or so, a destitute would come by, stand/sit beside each seat and ask for money. Their mannerisms have changed over the years. Nowadays, they are a insistent lot, asking strongly, or at times, even demanding money. Since there were a couple of passengers sitting to my left, thus, separating me from the aisle, I was shielded from most of the pestering. But every single time a vagabond came by, I felt a pang of irritation, pity and guilt, all rolled into one. Thankfully and unfortunately, each of those emotions were fleeting and I got back to staring outside by the time they passed my row of seats.
Through the course of this journey, there were, say, twenty of them that passed by. I did not give away money to any of them. I did consider it at times, but ended up not doing so. It was a combination of factors that led me to do so. First, I was inherently uncomfortable taking out my wallet, which had a load of cash, in the crowded train, and second, I am not quite sure about giving away money to the destitute. However, I also believe that, since I don't do much about easing their situation through any constructive means, giving alms would be the only way to personally extend some help to them. So, essentially it was all about the first point.
Sitting across me was a lady, a pretty loud mouthed one at that. Needless to say, she made quite a negative first impression on me, and it was not just based on how loud she was. She entered the train at Chennai, and had a couple of guys traveling with her. She was middle aged, and the guys appeared to be at least 5 years younger than her. Further, while she was clearly not South Indian, the guys certainly were. Without getting into further details, let me state upfront that I got the distinct impression that she was a "madam". Whether it was stupid of me to have thought so, or smart of me to have deciphered that, I don't know. I still don't. But that was and is my hunch. Hence, the negative first impression.
Turned out, that out of all the people that were within my view, she was the only one who gave away money to every single destitute that walked by. She was seated directly across me, and thus cushioned from the aisle by 2 passengers, just as I was, but every single time, a destitute passed by, she took out her purse, reached into it, and gave out some money.
Towards the end, we did exchange a couple of banal comments, including something as enlightening as how cold it got as it got darker and as we neared Bangalore. Further, along with about half the crowd in our coach, both of us were getting down at the station prior to the junction. Whitefield, I think, it was. Needless to say, she left a lasting impression on me. A gray one, at that. Just the way I like it.
Bangalore was loads of fun. After a 4 day blur of sister, friends, movie, gourmet food and loads of pretty faces, it was time for the return journey. In case it wasn't clear, the journey to Bangalore had given me a high. So, I looked forward to the return leg of it. I had a book. I had the iPod. But I didn't expect to use much of either. I knew I had a window seat, and I hoped that I would be facing the wind this time. In all this positivity, and due to the lazy bum suggestions of a lazy bum friend of mine, I chose the lazy bum option of waking up 15 minutes later than what would be required if I intended to catch the train at the junction itself. Instead, I got onto the train at its first stop.
The enthusiasm drained, the second I got in. A quick scan showed that all window seats were taken. To my utter dismay, I noticed that my seat was taken up by a lady, who was accompanied by a couple of other ladies in that row. Against all hope, I proceeded to show her my ticket, informing her that she was in my seat. Waving her hand in disdain, she pointed me to the seat that had been assigned to her. It was an aisle seat, right next to the entrance/exit row of the coach. I don't think I had a choice. I took one last look at the lady in my seat and indeed, she had the wind in her face!
Now, let me tell you what I quickly realized about these three seaters this time around. Something that I did not realize during my journey to Bangalore. Well, they aren't three seaters. Not when the three are me, bigger and biggest. Before actually sitting, I was thankful that I wasn't in the middle seat, but as soon as some of my butt hit wood and the rest, air, I realized the perils of the aisle seat, the one I always prefer on an aircraft. Thus, in order to ensure that I remained in my seat, I had to position one of my legs in the aisle. My shoulder too was extending beyond the seat. Leaning back offered no comfort, so, I bent forward and tried to read "Three Men in a Boat".
Note the usage of the word "tried" in the previous sentence. Because, it is only possible to try to read, when every minute, there is someone passing by either carrying food, looking for alms or just walking up and down for the kicks of it. Each one of these people, brushed past my leg and then did the same to my shoulder. I couldn't blame them for it. I was taking up about one third of the aisle.
Right across the aisle was a seat that was vacated during the course of the journey. I longingly glanced at it, since it seemed to offer a lot more room than what was available in my current location. But before I could make a decision, a lady took it up. She had male company. Seemed like husband and wife. Now, with the lady taking up the seat, and the couple keen to make conversation, she turned towards the aisle. The man took up a position where, his butt was resting on the back rest of my row of seats. This would have been fine, except that, if you remember, my shoulder wasn't contained within the seat. Thus, his butt was resting mostly on the back rest of the seat, and slightly on my shoulder. Also, with him taking up more space from the aisle, the traffic distinctly slowed down around me, and the 'brushing past' became a distinct 'scraping past' situation. For the next 3 hours or so.
To compound my troubles further, we were entering the outskirts of Chennai, bang around noon time. The pleasant breeze of a 7am Bangalore morning and the harsh blare of a noon time Chennai gust, offer the kind of contrasting experiences that a man should never be made to face within a five hour period. Except that, thousands of men, women and children do so on a fairly regular basis. And most of them aren't even on vacation. Getting back to my story, as you might have come to expect, the fan above me did not work. To be honest, most of the fans did not work. Only some did, but none of the some was above me. At this point, music could not help me. The humorous literature of Jerome K. Jerome could not heal me. I was plain and simple miserable. I couldn't wait to get out.
The one saving grace of the journey was that, I did not have to go to the Chennai Central station. I could cut short the journey by about thirty minutes, by getting off at Perumbur, from where, my place is a quick auto ride away. As we passed a Perumbur-X station, I felt a relief that the bad times were about to end. We then passed a Perumbur-Y station. I was not familiar with the location of these stations. All I knew was the exact name of the station where the train would stop and I could get off at. It turned out that my destination was less than a kilometer from Perumbur-Y station. We arrived there an hour later.
By the time the train passed Perumbur-Y station, the speed had dwindled to a crawl. Soon enough, it came to a complete stop. I could see a road right past the tracks. I should have gotten the hell out of there right then, but I did not. I don't know why. For the first 15 minutes, I stayed fairly optimistic. Well, as optimistic as a person could be after enduring 4 odd hours of the aforementioned. I tried to focus on the book, but I could not. I was dripping with sweat. And there were too many people around me, everyone getting restless.
Reading this post, if at all anyone is, could have killed off some. So, I am not about to kill the rest by explaining how I felt and what I did for the next thirty minutes. The train did not budge. I did. I got off my seat, walked up and down a bit, one eye on the luggage at all time. I also looked out the door, hoping to figure out something. I could not. Anyway, about 45 minutes after the train stopped, it started again. It crawled. 2 minutes later, it stopped at the station where I had planned to disembark.
I felt that this was as good a time as any to kill myself. Or at least test if a Shriya would come by to save me, if I tried to kill myself on the track. Like a lot of unexplainable things during these two journeys, I did not do that either. Instead, I got off the train and crossed over to the same road that I had been staring at for the past 1 hour. Autos were readily available. 10 mins later, I was home. In absolute contrast to everything else that had happened earlier, my parents were home, food was ready and best of all, the A/C was working. I chatted, I ate and then I continued reading.
Would I take the train next time if I could help it? Yes. I think I am sure about that.
Arriving well ahead of time at the station, and recalling horror stories from the past about being hounded out of a seat by ticketless travelers, I took mine and did not budge even when I felt the temptation to pick up a Dairy Milk from one of the platform vendors. Thankfully, there was no trouble with the seating, and I did have the pleasure of a window seat, albeit, not with the wind in my face. As the seats got taken, the chatter level increased beyond my comfort zone. Worse, since it wasn't in English or Tamil, it was pure, unadulterated noise to me. Thankfully, I was well prepared for such a scenario. With an iPod in my pocket and Richie Benaud's "My Spin on Cricket" in hand, I was all ready to shut out the surroundings.
Surprisingly, the headphones did not come on, and only 20 or so pages of the book were turned. Instead, my ears got used to the cacophony soon enough, and my eyes just feasted on the sights that I hadn't seen in ages. There were school grounds with multiple cricket matches going on, there were gangs hanging out with no purpose whatsoever, but most of all, there were vast expanses of cultivated and uncultivated land. To be perfectly honest, I can't claim that they were beautiful in an aesthetic sense, but they kept me engaged until it went dark, and I could see no more.
During this journey, every 15 minutes or so, a destitute would come by, stand/sit beside each seat and ask for money. Their mannerisms have changed over the years. Nowadays, they are a insistent lot, asking strongly, or at times, even demanding money. Since there were a couple of passengers sitting to my left, thus, separating me from the aisle, I was shielded from most of the pestering. But every single time a vagabond came by, I felt a pang of irritation, pity and guilt, all rolled into one. Thankfully and unfortunately, each of those emotions were fleeting and I got back to staring outside by the time they passed my row of seats.
Through the course of this journey, there were, say, twenty of them that passed by. I did not give away money to any of them. I did consider it at times, but ended up not doing so. It was a combination of factors that led me to do so. First, I was inherently uncomfortable taking out my wallet, which had a load of cash, in the crowded train, and second, I am not quite sure about giving away money to the destitute. However, I also believe that, since I don't do much about easing their situation through any constructive means, giving alms would be the only way to personally extend some help to them. So, essentially it was all about the first point.
Sitting across me was a lady, a pretty loud mouthed one at that. Needless to say, she made quite a negative first impression on me, and it was not just based on how loud she was. She entered the train at Chennai, and had a couple of guys traveling with her. She was middle aged, and the guys appeared to be at least 5 years younger than her. Further, while she was clearly not South Indian, the guys certainly were. Without getting into further details, let me state upfront that I got the distinct impression that she was a "madam". Whether it was stupid of me to have thought so, or smart of me to have deciphered that, I don't know. I still don't. But that was and is my hunch. Hence, the negative first impression.
Turned out, that out of all the people that were within my view, she was the only one who gave away money to every single destitute that walked by. She was seated directly across me, and thus cushioned from the aisle by 2 passengers, just as I was, but every single time, a destitute passed by, she took out her purse, reached into it, and gave out some money.
Towards the end, we did exchange a couple of banal comments, including something as enlightening as how cold it got as it got darker and as we neared Bangalore. Further, along with about half the crowd in our coach, both of us were getting down at the station prior to the junction. Whitefield, I think, it was. Needless to say, she left a lasting impression on me. A gray one, at that. Just the way I like it.
Bangalore was loads of fun. After a 4 day blur of sister, friends, movie, gourmet food and loads of pretty faces, it was time for the return journey. In case it wasn't clear, the journey to Bangalore had given me a high. So, I looked forward to the return leg of it. I had a book. I had the iPod. But I didn't expect to use much of either. I knew I had a window seat, and I hoped that I would be facing the wind this time. In all this positivity, and due to the lazy bum suggestions of a lazy bum friend of mine, I chose the lazy bum option of waking up 15 minutes later than what would be required if I intended to catch the train at the junction itself. Instead, I got onto the train at its first stop.
The enthusiasm drained, the second I got in. A quick scan showed that all window seats were taken. To my utter dismay, I noticed that my seat was taken up by a lady, who was accompanied by a couple of other ladies in that row. Against all hope, I proceeded to show her my ticket, informing her that she was in my seat. Waving her hand in disdain, she pointed me to the seat that had been assigned to her. It was an aisle seat, right next to the entrance/exit row of the coach. I don't think I had a choice. I took one last look at the lady in my seat and indeed, she had the wind in her face!
Now, let me tell you what I quickly realized about these three seaters this time around. Something that I did not realize during my journey to Bangalore. Well, they aren't three seaters. Not when the three are me, bigger and biggest. Before actually sitting, I was thankful that I wasn't in the middle seat, but as soon as some of my butt hit wood and the rest, air, I realized the perils of the aisle seat, the one I always prefer on an aircraft. Thus, in order to ensure that I remained in my seat, I had to position one of my legs in the aisle. My shoulder too was extending beyond the seat. Leaning back offered no comfort, so, I bent forward and tried to read "Three Men in a Boat".
Note the usage of the word "tried" in the previous sentence. Because, it is only possible to try to read, when every minute, there is someone passing by either carrying food, looking for alms or just walking up and down for the kicks of it. Each one of these people, brushed past my leg and then did the same to my shoulder. I couldn't blame them for it. I was taking up about one third of the aisle.
Right across the aisle was a seat that was vacated during the course of the journey. I longingly glanced at it, since it seemed to offer a lot more room than what was available in my current location. But before I could make a decision, a lady took it up. She had male company. Seemed like husband and wife. Now, with the lady taking up the seat, and the couple keen to make conversation, she turned towards the aisle. The man took up a position where, his butt was resting on the back rest of my row of seats. This would have been fine, except that, if you remember, my shoulder wasn't contained within the seat. Thus, his butt was resting mostly on the back rest of the seat, and slightly on my shoulder. Also, with him taking up more space from the aisle, the traffic distinctly slowed down around me, and the 'brushing past' became a distinct 'scraping past' situation. For the next 3 hours or so.
To compound my troubles further, we were entering the outskirts of Chennai, bang around noon time. The pleasant breeze of a 7am Bangalore morning and the harsh blare of a noon time Chennai gust, offer the kind of contrasting experiences that a man should never be made to face within a five hour period. Except that, thousands of men, women and children do so on a fairly regular basis. And most of them aren't even on vacation. Getting back to my story, as you might have come to expect, the fan above me did not work. To be honest, most of the fans did not work. Only some did, but none of the some was above me. At this point, music could not help me. The humorous literature of Jerome K. Jerome could not heal me. I was plain and simple miserable. I couldn't wait to get out.
The one saving grace of the journey was that, I did not have to go to the Chennai Central station. I could cut short the journey by about thirty minutes, by getting off at Perumbur, from where, my place is a quick auto ride away. As we passed a Perumbur-X station, I felt a relief that the bad times were about to end. We then passed a Perumbur-Y station. I was not familiar with the location of these stations. All I knew was the exact name of the station where the train would stop and I could get off at. It turned out that my destination was less than a kilometer from Perumbur-Y station. We arrived there an hour later.
By the time the train passed Perumbur-Y station, the speed had dwindled to a crawl. Soon enough, it came to a complete stop. I could see a road right past the tracks. I should have gotten the hell out of there right then, but I did not. I don't know why. For the first 15 minutes, I stayed fairly optimistic. Well, as optimistic as a person could be after enduring 4 odd hours of the aforementioned. I tried to focus on the book, but I could not. I was dripping with sweat. And there were too many people around me, everyone getting restless.
Reading this post, if at all anyone is, could have killed off some. So, I am not about to kill the rest by explaining how I felt and what I did for the next thirty minutes. The train did not budge. I did. I got off my seat, walked up and down a bit, one eye on the luggage at all time. I also looked out the door, hoping to figure out something. I could not. Anyway, about 45 minutes after the train stopped, it started again. It crawled. 2 minutes later, it stopped at the station where I had planned to disembark.
I felt that this was as good a time as any to kill myself. Or at least test if a Shriya would come by to save me, if I tried to kill myself on the track. Like a lot of unexplainable things during these two journeys, I did not do that either. Instead, I got off the train and crossed over to the same road that I had been staring at for the past 1 hour. Autos were readily available. 10 mins later, I was home. In absolute contrast to everything else that had happened earlier, my parents were home, food was ready and best of all, the A/C was working. I chatted, I ate and then I continued reading.
Would I take the train next time if I could help it? Yes. I think I am sure about that.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
ronaldo, rooney, action!
Manchester United played some of the most attractive football and scored quite a few breathtaking goals over the 2006-07 season, but none more than this piece of action stands out for me. It does not have delicate touches, nor does it have a needle threading pass. It has good teamwork, terrific opportunism and clinical finishing, but what elevates it to Manchester United memorabilia, is its pace. The kind that draws gasps. The kind that makes the Premiership the most watched football league on the plant. Every single time I watch it, my pulse goes racing. For the past six months, one of my dependable sources for a 'high'...
The other standout feature of this clip is the commentary on the action. This is running commentary at its very best. In fact, it defines it. When Rooney lays off the ball to Ronaldo, the crowd starts buzzing. The commentator raises the decibel level to capture attention, just in case someone was in the midst of a slumber. As the ball travels downfield, there is time to describe Ronaldo's pace and the positions taken by his teammates, Rooney and Giggs. Clearly, along with the rest of the crowd, he too is expecting a goal to culminate this move. The excitement in the tone is apparent. Rooney receiving the ball at his feet meant that only the formality of finishing remained. This was the perfect moment for posturing. Rooney didn't have the time, but the commentator certainly did. So, he emphasizes "Wayne Rooney for Manchester United" knowing fully well that such acts gets him extra points from the Red Devils' faithful. By the time he finishes that, Rooney has already clipped the ball over the rushing goalkeeper and the ball is crossing over the goal line. With his voice at its absolute crescendo, he gushes "What a goal, Ohhhhh, What a goal!!!". Perfect timing!
Goal: 9/10
Commentary: 10/10
Friday, October 05, 2007
Imola '94 to Japan '07
Formula 1 is an indulgence. Let there be no doubts about that. An incredibly expensive, expansive one at that. In some ways, F1 is as much a sport as a Rajnikanth starrer is a movie. Only if one is willing to and able to see past this indulgence, can one truly enjoy the spectacle that it is. I don't with the latter, but most certainly do with the former.
I don't remember how or when I started watching tennis or cricket or football, but I remember the precise incident that kick started my affair with F1. When cable television entered my household in 1992, F1 was a reason to not turn to Star Sports (Prime Sports back then) for about 2 hours on what seemed like every Sunday. It continued that way, and could very possibly have stayed that way, but then, May 1st 1994 happened! Of course, I was completely unaware of the catastrophe when it took place, but when I turned to the sports page of The Hindu on May 2nd 1994, the headline read "Ayrton Senna pronounced clinically dead". I didn't have a clue as to who Ayrton Senna was, but the fact that he bumped cricket or tennis off the headline spot, intrigued me. I read the article, and following that, a couple of weeks later, watched the Monaco Grand Prix. I continue to watch F1 till this day.
It always helps to have a favorite. Without one, it is easier to be unbiased, but harder to be passionate, particularly when the spectacle is an indulgence. Michael Schumacher isn't palatable to everyone's taste. His ruthless attitude to winning alienated some, specifically, Brits and those that are the epitome of morals. Being neither, his unparalleled skill on track was fairly easy to admire.
In this technology driven sport, a lot of the manual skill involved tends to get masked and even overridden at times. Rain however, is known to be the great leveler, creating chaos, the results of which are nothing short of spectacular. It is on those occasions that the driver can significantly influence the laptimes that he is doing. Instead of driving at the absolute, but known limit of the machinery at their disposal, they are forced to determine the limits, that change at every corner on every lap due to the varying quantities of water present on the track. The result of finding the limits as well as making a mistake while trying to do so offer some of the most revered moments of F1. To churn out the most lopsided of victories under these conditions is the surest sign of genius in this sport.
Schumacher's victory in the 1995 Belgian Grand Prix from a starting position of 16, at the rain soaked Spa Francorchamps circuit was an early favorite of mine. Until of course, his victory at the 1996 Spanish Grand Prix, his first in Scarlet overalls. Some background information is needed at this juncture. Spain was the 7th race of 1996, and by the time the circus arrived in town, Schumacher was more than 20 points behind runaway leader Damon Hill and his rookie teammate, Jacques Villeneuve, of the all conquering Williams-Renault outfit. At the end of a dry hour of qualifying, Hill and Villeneuve were 1 and 2, with Schumacher almost a second behind Hill. The race was driven in soaking wet conditions though, and Schumacher's fastest lap was 2.2 seconds faster than the rest of the field. The rest can be read here
During this post Schumacher era, I watch F1 as an intrigued observer, with only traces of Ferrari favoritism remaining, but with Alonso being Schumacher's rival and Hamilton being, well, the Brit media's darling, I have been backing Kimi for the title all season. That hasn't prevented me from enjoying the several highpoints of this season, Hamilton overtaking Kimi at Monza and the repetitive Alonso - Heidfeld battles, to name just a couple.
However, all that has been pretty much washed away from memory by the deluge at the Japanese Grand Prix. The race being started behind the safety car was a huge letdown, and the mood turned gloomier when the talk centered around the race being stopped without any racing laps. Thankfully, Charlie Whiting, the race director, took the call to make the drivers race at about 180mph while they could not see the car that was 50m ahead of them. Besides, the 22 on track, I don't think too many people complained about the decision.
The racing was on and the action was non-stop. There were way too many subplots for a single race, happening all over the track. I kept a keen eye on Kimi's and Massa's progress through the field and also the Alonso-Hamilton gap and their pitstop timings, but Webber and Vettel's rise to the top took me completely by surprise. Trouble with F1 is, it is hard to track back the action and figure out the route taken to the top. There is just no time, and probably no cameras either. Alonso's crash spontaneously elicited some drunken revelry, but with the sobering reminder that that made Hamilton a shoo-in for the title this year. After it was clear that all pitstops were done, the focus turned to the track. Kimi was the only one that could do something about Hamilton's drive to glory and I for one, egged him on.
The Japanese Grand Prix was shifted to Fuji this year from the beloved Suzuka track. It had a lot to live up to. The 130R corner at Suzuka was a part of F1 folklore. Schumacher's lightning quick reflexes that got him through unscathed, 2 laps from the end of the race in 2000, with that year's championship on the line and Mika Hakkinen only a couple of seconds behind him on track is my fondest memory of it, with Alonso's move on Schumy during the ill fated 2005 season, being the worst one. However, both moments, and a few other ones, evoke the feeling of awe. Turn 4 at Fuji was called the 100R, the only challenging high speed corner at Fuji.
Back on track, Kimi had been following DC for a couple of laps without getting anywhere close enough to overtake. On Lap 57 though, he took a remarkably wide line through the 100R and just drove past DC without even having to outbrake him. In the past, Kimi's attitude has been questioned, but his guts haven't ever. This was why. In the prevailing blinding conditions, to take the speed that he did through that corner needed courage of the highest order. It was a Kimi special that took care of DC that day, and I made sure that my neighbors knew about it.
As the laps wound down, I was moaning and groaning about the television coverage and abnormal number of breaks for commercials. Meanwhile, Kimi had closed up on Heikki and tried a similar move a couple of times. Unfortunately for him, Heikki was driving the wheels off the Renault and was in no mood to surrender second place. After missing most of the action through the last lap, the television cameras caught the end of their joust, where it seemed like Kimi got past Heikki, but was taken at the end of the next corner. Seeing those two cross the line, I got my breath back. For a second, that is.
The cameras picked up a Ferrari and a BMW in the middle of a mighty battle for insignificant points. The action probably lasted for about 5 corners. Less than 30 seconds. It is a lifetime, "I watched it live!" moment. F1 cars are fragile and every single fragile component matters to the speed of the car. The drivers take great care in ensuring that they do not damage any of it, but during this battle, Massa and Kubica experienced a brain fade that pitched them right in the middle of a bumper car battle. No one could blame them for that though. Afterall, this was happening precisely two hours after the lights went out to start the race. They touched each other more than a couple of times. They overtook each other about 3 times, and this was before the finale.
At the last corner, Kubica pushed Massa off the track. Crucially, while doing so, he placed his wheels on the grass, which meant that he had to lift off slightly to regain track. Meanwhile, Massa, instead of lifting off, moved to the runway tarmac, kept the throttle down, rejoined the track and outdragged Kubica to the finish line. In the years to come, it will be the flagship battle of this decade, sitting pretty alongside the 1979 French classic between Arnoux and Villeneuve.
I don't remember how or when I started watching tennis or cricket or football, but I remember the precise incident that kick started my affair with F1. When cable television entered my household in 1992, F1 was a reason to not turn to Star Sports (Prime Sports back then) for about 2 hours on what seemed like every Sunday. It continued that way, and could very possibly have stayed that way, but then, May 1st 1994 happened! Of course, I was completely unaware of the catastrophe when it took place, but when I turned to the sports page of The Hindu on May 2nd 1994, the headline read "Ayrton Senna pronounced clinically dead". I didn't have a clue as to who Ayrton Senna was, but the fact that he bumped cricket or tennis off the headline spot, intrigued me. I read the article, and following that, a couple of weeks later, watched the Monaco Grand Prix. I continue to watch F1 till this day.
It always helps to have a favorite. Without one, it is easier to be unbiased, but harder to be passionate, particularly when the spectacle is an indulgence. Michael Schumacher isn't palatable to everyone's taste. His ruthless attitude to winning alienated some, specifically, Brits and those that are the epitome of morals. Being neither, his unparalleled skill on track was fairly easy to admire.
In this technology driven sport, a lot of the manual skill involved tends to get masked and even overridden at times. Rain however, is known to be the great leveler, creating chaos, the results of which are nothing short of spectacular. It is on those occasions that the driver can significantly influence the laptimes that he is doing. Instead of driving at the absolute, but known limit of the machinery at their disposal, they are forced to determine the limits, that change at every corner on every lap due to the varying quantities of water present on the track. The result of finding the limits as well as making a mistake while trying to do so offer some of the most revered moments of F1. To churn out the most lopsided of victories under these conditions is the surest sign of genius in this sport.
Schumacher's victory in the 1995 Belgian Grand Prix from a starting position of 16, at the rain soaked Spa Francorchamps circuit was an early favorite of mine. Until of course, his victory at the 1996 Spanish Grand Prix, his first in Scarlet overalls. Some background information is needed at this juncture. Spain was the 7th race of 1996, and by the time the circus arrived in town, Schumacher was more than 20 points behind runaway leader Damon Hill and his rookie teammate, Jacques Villeneuve, of the all conquering Williams-Renault outfit. At the end of a dry hour of qualifying, Hill and Villeneuve were 1 and 2, with Schumacher almost a second behind Hill. The race was driven in soaking wet conditions though, and Schumacher's fastest lap was 2.2 seconds faster than the rest of the field. The rest can be read here
During this post Schumacher era, I watch F1 as an intrigued observer, with only traces of Ferrari favoritism remaining, but with Alonso being Schumacher's rival and Hamilton being, well, the Brit media's darling, I have been backing Kimi for the title all season. That hasn't prevented me from enjoying the several highpoints of this season, Hamilton overtaking Kimi at Monza and the repetitive Alonso - Heidfeld battles, to name just a couple.
However, all that has been pretty much washed away from memory by the deluge at the Japanese Grand Prix. The race being started behind the safety car was a huge letdown, and the mood turned gloomier when the talk centered around the race being stopped without any racing laps. Thankfully, Charlie Whiting, the race director, took the call to make the drivers race at about 180mph while they could not see the car that was 50m ahead of them. Besides, the 22 on track, I don't think too many people complained about the decision.
The racing was on and the action was non-stop. There were way too many subplots for a single race, happening all over the track. I kept a keen eye on Kimi's and Massa's progress through the field and also the Alonso-Hamilton gap and their pitstop timings, but Webber and Vettel's rise to the top took me completely by surprise. Trouble with F1 is, it is hard to track back the action and figure out the route taken to the top. There is just no time, and probably no cameras either. Alonso's crash spontaneously elicited some drunken revelry, but with the sobering reminder that that made Hamilton a shoo-in for the title this year. After it was clear that all pitstops were done, the focus turned to the track. Kimi was the only one that could do something about Hamilton's drive to glory and I for one, egged him on.
The Japanese Grand Prix was shifted to Fuji this year from the beloved Suzuka track. It had a lot to live up to. The 130R corner at Suzuka was a part of F1 folklore. Schumacher's lightning quick reflexes that got him through unscathed, 2 laps from the end of the race in 2000, with that year's championship on the line and Mika Hakkinen only a couple of seconds behind him on track is my fondest memory of it, with Alonso's move on Schumy during the ill fated 2005 season, being the worst one. However, both moments, and a few other ones, evoke the feeling of awe. Turn 4 at Fuji was called the 100R, the only challenging high speed corner at Fuji.
Back on track, Kimi had been following DC for a couple of laps without getting anywhere close enough to overtake. On Lap 57 though, he took a remarkably wide line through the 100R and just drove past DC without even having to outbrake him. In the past, Kimi's attitude has been questioned, but his guts haven't ever. This was why. In the prevailing blinding conditions, to take the speed that he did through that corner needed courage of the highest order. It was a Kimi special that took care of DC that day, and I made sure that my neighbors knew about it.
As the laps wound down, I was moaning and groaning about the television coverage and abnormal number of breaks for commercials. Meanwhile, Kimi had closed up on Heikki and tried a similar move a couple of times. Unfortunately for him, Heikki was driving the wheels off the Renault and was in no mood to surrender second place. After missing most of the action through the last lap, the television cameras caught the end of their joust, where it seemed like Kimi got past Heikki, but was taken at the end of the next corner. Seeing those two cross the line, I got my breath back. For a second, that is.
The cameras picked up a Ferrari and a BMW in the middle of a mighty battle for insignificant points. The action probably lasted for about 5 corners. Less than 30 seconds. It is a lifetime, "I watched it live!" moment. F1 cars are fragile and every single fragile component matters to the speed of the car. The drivers take great care in ensuring that they do not damage any of it, but during this battle, Massa and Kubica experienced a brain fade that pitched them right in the middle of a bumper car battle. No one could blame them for that though. Afterall, this was happening precisely two hours after the lights went out to start the race. They touched each other more than a couple of times. They overtook each other about 3 times, and this was before the finale.
At the last corner, Kubica pushed Massa off the track. Crucially, while doing so, he placed his wheels on the grass, which meant that he had to lift off slightly to regain track. Meanwhile, Massa, instead of lifting off, moved to the runway tarmac, kept the throttle down, rejoined the track and outdragged Kubica to the finish line. In the years to come, it will be the flagship battle of this decade, sitting pretty alongside the 1979 French classic between Arnoux and Villeneuve.
Friday, September 21, 2007
numbers and stories
The 'made for excitement' nature of American sports is fairly easy to spot. That is not the focus of this post, though. Instead, as I catch up with the American Football (AF), basketball and even baseball at times, a couple of distinctive features of the media coverage of these sports is apparent.
AF is a sport where individual or even team stats don't necessarily add up to a team score. Unlike cricket, where every single run counts, here, every yard does not, simply because, consistently gaining yards and giving it up close to the end zone does not get you any points. In this aspect, it is very similar to football, where a team might dominate possession, have 25 shots on target and lose to a team that had 2 shots on goal. In spite of this reality, stats like yards gained and the success/failure ratio of throws are the ones that get beaten to death during the dissection of play. Qualitative analysis is conspicuous by its absence. Instead, all the judgments stem from numbers.
I guess that someone sitting high up felt that a similar numbers based approach to football would be the way to take it to the masses in America. Last year, while watching the Champions League on ESPN, I noticed that towards the end of the game, some numbers about the metres covered by a player during the game was printed out on the screen. It was quite amusing to hear the commentator try and put a spin on it, but thankfully, the idea hasn't caught on. It would be a strange experience to listen to experts talking about how Manchester United beat Liverpool since their players managed to cover a total of twenty thousand metres during the game while their counterparts managed only seventeen thousand!
Another case in point was the US Open final featuring Djokovic and Roger Federer, two of the top three that have distanced themselves from the chasing pack. In the current avatar of the sport, devoid of classical serve and volleyers, Federer is the best volleyer we have. I noticed that through the first couple of sets, Federer found himself having to make a boot-strap volley (as the name indicates, a volley that you have to make somewhere close to your shoes. Essentially, volley a dipping ball) twice and Djokovic had to do the same twice. Both of them failed to succeed in their attempts.
Sitting in the commentary box, was the incomparable John McEnroe, possibly the greatest volleyer in the history of tennis. He did not offer a viewpoint on any of these plays. Nothing about technique or insights about what made it hard to make such a volley. However, when Djokovic lost it mentally during the first set tiebreaker, McEnroe's co-commentators readily brought out his infamous temper tantrums through some friendly banter. And McEnroe, old sport that he is, played along and joked about it, while seeming to thoroughly enjoy it .
Considering McEnroe's popularity as a commentator, and how often this side story of his gets brought up, casual viewers of the sport (under which category, I include those that haven't a clue about the history of the sport, however much they might know about Federer) probably consider him to be an ex-player who behaved funny/crazy on court. That would be true, but is Ayrton Senna immortal only because he died on track?! There is a bigger story there. McEnroe has one too, for his virtuoso skills will never ever be seen again on a tennis court, unless they bring back wooden rackets, and of course, clone him. No one did it like Mac.
Futile and meaningless as it might be, if one had to contrast the playing style of Federer and McEnroe, it must be said that Federer hits the ball as hard as anyone in the game. He is as athletic as Nadal and can serve almost as well as the best. Its just that he makes it all look so casual and easy. McEnroe on the other hand made everything look ungainly. His service action was as weird as they come. He did not flex his arms to hit his forehand and backhand and he could not touch his toes. Lets not even talk about his hairstyle. Yet, what came came out of this combination of the bad, the worse and the worst, was the absolute beauty. The uncouth, brazen American, defined feather touch. His rivals, Connors and Bjorn Borg included, hit the ball harder, but none could match his touch and angles. He won 3 Wimbledons and 4 US Opens, you know.
Highlighting that, will inspire the next generation of tennis players. Highlighting his temper, will help improve television ratings for as long as the sport exists.
PS: I hate to be a moaner, and worse, moan about things that I do not understand 100%. However, this is meant to be one of those indulgences that a man's gotta have, like enjoying a big bowl of Chocolate Devotion at Cold Stone while on a diet, simply because India qualified for the semifinals of the Twenty20 World Cup. Maybe, I could work on reducing the frequency of these indiscretions...
- "We can talk numbers all day long"
AF is a sport where individual or even team stats don't necessarily add up to a team score. Unlike cricket, where every single run counts, here, every yard does not, simply because, consistently gaining yards and giving it up close to the end zone does not get you any points. In this aspect, it is very similar to football, where a team might dominate possession, have 25 shots on target and lose to a team that had 2 shots on goal. In spite of this reality, stats like yards gained and the success/failure ratio of throws are the ones that get beaten to death during the dissection of play. Qualitative analysis is conspicuous by its absence. Instead, all the judgments stem from numbers.
I guess that someone sitting high up felt that a similar numbers based approach to football would be the way to take it to the masses in America. Last year, while watching the Champions League on ESPN, I noticed that towards the end of the game, some numbers about the metres covered by a player during the game was printed out on the screen. It was quite amusing to hear the commentator try and put a spin on it, but thankfully, the idea hasn't caught on. It would be a strange experience to listen to experts talking about how Manchester United beat Liverpool since their players managed to cover a total of twenty thousand metres during the game while their counterparts managed only seventeen thousand!
- "Skills are fine, but without a story, it ain't newsworthy"
Another case in point was the US Open final featuring Djokovic and Roger Federer, two of the top three that have distanced themselves from the chasing pack. In the current avatar of the sport, devoid of classical serve and volleyers, Federer is the best volleyer we have. I noticed that through the first couple of sets, Federer found himself having to make a boot-strap volley (as the name indicates, a volley that you have to make somewhere close to your shoes. Essentially, volley a dipping ball) twice and Djokovic had to do the same twice. Both of them failed to succeed in their attempts.
Sitting in the commentary box, was the incomparable John McEnroe, possibly the greatest volleyer in the history of tennis. He did not offer a viewpoint on any of these plays. Nothing about technique or insights about what made it hard to make such a volley. However, when Djokovic lost it mentally during the first set tiebreaker, McEnroe's co-commentators readily brought out his infamous temper tantrums through some friendly banter. And McEnroe, old sport that he is, played along and joked about it, while seeming to thoroughly enjoy it .
Considering McEnroe's popularity as a commentator, and how often this side story of his gets brought up, casual viewers of the sport (under which category, I include those that haven't a clue about the history of the sport, however much they might know about Federer) probably consider him to be an ex-player who behaved funny/crazy on court. That would be true, but is Ayrton Senna immortal only because he died on track?! There is a bigger story there. McEnroe has one too, for his virtuoso skills will never ever be seen again on a tennis court, unless they bring back wooden rackets, and of course, clone him. No one did it like Mac.
Futile and meaningless as it might be, if one had to contrast the playing style of Federer and McEnroe, it must be said that Federer hits the ball as hard as anyone in the game. He is as athletic as Nadal and can serve almost as well as the best. Its just that he makes it all look so casual and easy. McEnroe on the other hand made everything look ungainly. His service action was as weird as they come. He did not flex his arms to hit his forehand and backhand and he could not touch his toes. Lets not even talk about his hairstyle. Yet, what came came out of this combination of the bad, the worse and the worst, was the absolute beauty. The uncouth, brazen American, defined feather touch. His rivals, Connors and Bjorn Borg included, hit the ball harder, but none could match his touch and angles. He won 3 Wimbledons and 4 US Opens, you know.
Highlighting that, will inspire the next generation of tennis players. Highlighting his temper, will help improve television ratings for as long as the sport exists.
PS: I hate to be a moaner, and worse, moan about things that I do not understand 100%. However, this is meant to be one of those indulgences that a man's gotta have, like enjoying a big bowl of Chocolate Devotion at Cold Stone while on a diet, simply because India qualified for the semifinals of the Twenty20 World Cup. Maybe, I could work on reducing the frequency of these indiscretions...
Thursday, September 06, 2007
a new clause to an age old law
"Thou shall reap when you go for it and it falls for you; out it falls, down you go" - Layman wording, but universal truth.
In every aspect of life, conservatism is one option. The benefits of this lifestyle lie above the zero line and waver around it, rarely dipping into the negative or soaring into the rarefied heights of the positive.
Adventurism, on the other hand, cannot be described by mean and standard deviation. A comprehensive understanding of random processes is required to statistically describe it. Of course, one can always learn through experience. The peaks and troughs come about randomly. They take their toll. People drop off the edge. A strong mind is needed to cope with the steady state of turbulence. But as the adage on top suggests, when the stars align, you get to be on top of Everest.
This is the way of the world. Adults bow to it. Youths fight it. Eventually, realize it and then pick a side.
With a 1-13 career head to head record, Roddick didn't have much of an option with respect to picking sides. He had to go for it. In his mind, he must have known that he was risking another 6-4 6-0 6-2 scoreline, but prolonged rallying coupled with some lucky breaks could have taken him as far as four sets and no more. He was up against Federer and Federer's opponents don't get gifts. Not whole matches anyway.
Federer knew the law as well as anyone. He must have known that the only way to repel an all out successful attack by Roddick would be to launch the heavy artillery himself. Which he did not do. Instead, he just changed the law. Rather, added an escape clause to the law. One which carries his name henceforth.
Roddick went for it and successfully too. He crushed his groundstrokes and yanked Federer all around the court. He served "from a tree" and didn't give Federer a whiff of a chance. If Roddick can play better, the world is yet to see it. Still, he did not win a single set. Three sets and he was out of his beloved Open. Writing that Roddick was a broken (in spirit) man would be an easy thing to do, but if he means half of what he said in his post match presser (about perspective), he is probably the one that we all need to look up to, more than we look up to Federer.
Federer was up for the match yesterday from the start. It was full throttled action from the time the first ball of the match was struck. Yet, he was not the one pressing the accelerator. He just bid his time. He must have hoped that Roddick would fall off the cliff in the tiebreaker. Roddick did not. So, he hit two crucial passes. Set one in hand. Ditto with the second set. Steve Tignor captures it well here.
Truth is, not even Federer can pull off both sets of such a battle every single time. Trouble for the rest of the world is, he has options for all possibilities, each one of world beating quality. If he had lost the first set, he would have upped his game just a little bit (and by 'up', I mean, gotten more aggressive) and won the second (just like he did against Feliciano Lopez). Under the very unlikely circumstance of him losing two high quality sets, the opponent will have to contend with a fired up aggressive Federer, while at the same time confront the "giant leap for mankind" that one would have to take to close out the match. For any of these conjectures, the odds are long.
Yesterday, Roddick could have won. I would go as far as to say that Roddick would have won. But for that to happen, someone needs to inform Federer that while the backhand slice and topspin are tennis shots, the backhand flick is not. It belongs to the domain of table tennis, tennis' poor cousin. The flick was deployed countless times to salvage a piledriver forehand crushed to Federer's backhand. That, to me, was why Federer won yesterday.
In every aspect of life, conservatism is one option. The benefits of this lifestyle lie above the zero line and waver around it, rarely dipping into the negative or soaring into the rarefied heights of the positive.
Adventurism, on the other hand, cannot be described by mean and standard deviation. A comprehensive understanding of random processes is required to statistically describe it. Of course, one can always learn through experience. The peaks and troughs come about randomly. They take their toll. People drop off the edge. A strong mind is needed to cope with the steady state of turbulence. But as the adage on top suggests, when the stars align, you get to be on top of Everest.
This is the way of the world. Adults bow to it. Youths fight it. Eventually, realize it and then pick a side.
With a 1-13 career head to head record, Roddick didn't have much of an option with respect to picking sides. He had to go for it. In his mind, he must have known that he was risking another 6-4 6-0 6-2 scoreline, but prolonged rallying coupled with some lucky breaks could have taken him as far as four sets and no more. He was up against Federer and Federer's opponents don't get gifts. Not whole matches anyway.
Federer knew the law as well as anyone. He must have known that the only way to repel an all out successful attack by Roddick would be to launch the heavy artillery himself. Which he did not do. Instead, he just changed the law. Rather, added an escape clause to the law. One which carries his name henceforth.
Roddick went for it and successfully too. He crushed his groundstrokes and yanked Federer all around the court. He served "from a tree" and didn't give Federer a whiff of a chance. If Roddick can play better, the world is yet to see it. Still, he did not win a single set. Three sets and he was out of his beloved Open. Writing that Roddick was a broken (in spirit) man would be an easy thing to do, but if he means half of what he said in his post match presser (about perspective), he is probably the one that we all need to look up to, more than we look up to Federer.
Federer was up for the match yesterday from the start. It was full throttled action from the time the first ball of the match was struck. Yet, he was not the one pressing the accelerator. He just bid his time. He must have hoped that Roddick would fall off the cliff in the tiebreaker. Roddick did not. So, he hit two crucial passes. Set one in hand. Ditto with the second set. Steve Tignor captures it well here.
Truth is, not even Federer can pull off both sets of such a battle every single time. Trouble for the rest of the world is, he has options for all possibilities, each one of world beating quality. If he had lost the first set, he would have upped his game just a little bit (and by 'up', I mean, gotten more aggressive) and won the second (just like he did against Feliciano Lopez). Under the very unlikely circumstance of him losing two high quality sets, the opponent will have to contend with a fired up aggressive Federer, while at the same time confront the "giant leap for mankind" that one would have to take to close out the match. For any of these conjectures, the odds are long.
Yesterday, Roddick could have won. I would go as far as to say that Roddick would have won. But for that to happen, someone needs to inform Federer that while the backhand slice and topspin are tennis shots, the backhand flick is not. It belongs to the domain of table tennis, tennis' poor cousin. The flick was deployed countless times to salvage a piledriver forehand crushed to Federer's backhand. That, to me, was why Federer won yesterday.
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