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Imagine - Anuranjan Roy
Anuranjan Roy is a regular guest contributor based in Kolkata, India.
He blogs at http://virtual-inksanity.blogspot.com
Imagine... that you are Sachin Tendulkar, 20 years of international cricket experience behind
you, walking in to bat.
you, walking in to bat.
It's early on the windy first day of a Test match at the Newlands stadium,Cape Town, South
Africa. Two quick Indian wickets have already gone down but the crowds have poured into the stadium for exactly the situation you find yourself in. You absorb the noise, the atmosphere, the excitement and the expectations of the watching thousands plus the millions catching the action live on television; gather a deep breath and take guard.
Africa. Two quick Indian wickets have already gone down but the crowds have poured into the stadium for exactly the situation you find yourself in. You absorb the noise, the atmosphere, the excitement and the expectations of the watching thousands plus the millions catching the action live on television; gather a deep breath and take guard.
Steaming in towards you, without the slightest hint of goodwill in his intentions, is the best fast bowler in international cricket currently in business, Dale Steyn. He can swing the cricket ball like its on drugs; bowl at speeds that will shatter your stumps before you can blink and also crack your ribs if you are caught unawares by one of his mean short of length deliveries. Accuracy and discipline is not something he can be faulted on, not to forget that this is Cape Town where the ball swings, bounces and bites anyway. Any other person in your place
would have just raised his hands in surrender and walked away. But not you.
would have just raised his hands in surrender and walked away. But not you.
Because you are Tendulkar. You've been in tight corners like this before. Where there is Steyn running in, there was once a Wasim Akram or an Allan Donald or a Glenn McGrath
or a Shoaib Akhtar. If it's short and wide, cut it; if it's full outside off, cream a cover drive; if it's full and straight, punch it back past the bowler; if it's full on the pads, flick it away on the leg side; if it's short and heading towards your body, pull it; if it's really short, hook it or just weave away from it. You have an answer for almost anything. Almost. 20 years in the
business of extraordinary batting still haven't helped you prepare for the "corridor".
In fact, the thrill of the "corridor" might the only reason that you still revel in the challenge of playing cricket.
or a Shoaib Akhtar. If it's short and wide, cut it; if it's full outside off, cream a cover drive; if it's full and straight, punch it back past the bowler; if it's full on the pads, flick it away on the leg side; if it's short and heading towards your body, pull it; if it's really short, hook it or just weave away from it. You have an answer for almost anything. Almost. 20 years in the
business of extraordinary batting still haven't helped you prepare for the "corridor".
In fact, the thrill of the "corridor" might the only reason that you still revel in the challenge of playing cricket.
Of all the expressions frequently used by cricket commentators, "Corridor of uncertainty" has to be the most evocative. The good length delivery in the narrow zone on or around the off stump, poses multiple questions to the batsman in that brief half a second it takes to get him. Back foot or front foot? Play it or let it go? Thump it or stonewall it? So many questions, never a definite answer. Uncertainty as defined in the English dictionary assumes the form of a live snarling creature. Being Sachin and the bowler being Steyn, you half expect what's coming. There it is, the perfect good length delivery at blistering pace in that doubt breeding region around the off stump.
There are three South African slip fielders and a wicketkeeper waiting for a nick which they
will gratefully pouch. Your critics will then snigger behind your back ignorant of the reality of two decades of invaluable service to the team, "He is useless in critical situations." Maybe you should let this one go and wait for an easier one. But what if this comes back in towards the stumps? It'll be too late to react then! If you half play it, there is every chance of a thin
edge so why not smack it? A crackling boundary to start with works wonders for your confidence. All difficult choices but the truth is that you love being there, at that position of potential. There may be glory to be hoped for or sheer disappointment to be coped with, but the real incentive is not knowing what will happen, until you make your move.
will gratefully pouch. Your critics will then snigger behind your back ignorant of the reality of two decades of invaluable service to the team, "He is useless in critical situations." Maybe you should let this one go and wait for an easier one. But what if this comes back in towards the stumps? It'll be too late to react then! If you half play it, there is every chance of a thin
edge so why not smack it? A crackling boundary to start with works wonders for your confidence. All difficult choices but the truth is that you love being there, at that position of potential. There may be glory to be hoped for or sheer disappointment to be coped with, but the real incentive is not knowing what will happen, until you make your move.
Negotiating the bewildering path of life is so much like playing an infinite Test match as a
batsman. You need patience and you need judgement; you need anticipation and you need self-belief. Opportunities come and go, like zippy Steyn deliveries. On a bad day, you grit your teeth and try to weather the storm. On a good day, you middle the ones that are there to be hit, the short balls and the full ones. Yet anything in the corridor of uncertainty is always a mystery, no matter how long you play.
batsman. You need patience and you need judgement; you need anticipation and you need self-belief. Opportunities come and go, like zippy Steyn deliveries. On a bad day, you grit your teeth and try to weather the storm. On a good day, you middle the ones that are there to be hit, the short balls and the full ones. Yet anything in the corridor of uncertainty is always a mystery, no matter how long you play.
That is when you need that rare combination of pluck and luck as you shape up to face the
unknown. Rule number 1 is to accept that life is frequently unfair and you shouldn't be complaining about how you were handed a raw deal, especially since you are by far not the first person that something ridiculously undeserved happened to. It is in the nature of life to slap you in the face for no reason at all, and all those years of hard work in the nets might amount to a big round zero on match day. There might also be wrong choices made, but it's
pointless to rue them for long. Of course being dismissed hurts, but the only option you have in this life is to back yourself and live to fight another day.
Then, there is the exciting possibility of things going right, of achieving a flow that keeps you at the crease for a long, fulfilling innings. People will say what they say anyway but at the end of the day, it's your life to live and your route to choose.
unknown. Rule number 1 is to accept that life is frequently unfair and you shouldn't be complaining about how you were handed a raw deal, especially since you are by far not the first person that something ridiculously undeserved happened to. It is in the nature of life to slap you in the face for no reason at all, and all those years of hard work in the nets might amount to a big round zero on match day. There might also be wrong choices made, but it's
pointless to rue them for long. Of course being dismissed hurts, but the only option you have in this life is to back yourself and live to fight another day.
Then, there is the exciting possibility of things going right, of achieving a flow that keeps you at the crease for a long, fulfilling innings. People will say what they say anyway but at the end of the day, it's your life to live and your route to choose.
Quoting Liam Thomas Ryder:
"Time sets the stage; fate writes the script; but only we may choose our
character."
character."
Imagine that you are Sachin Tendulkar.
Click here for the cricket blog of Senantix - the avatar of Scroll co-editor Arunabha Sengupta on blogosphere
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Eyes focused, two fingers and thumb on the seam, lithe, lively and lethal, Brett Lee
charged in to bowl. A crucial card played by Ricky Ponting, which held the fortunes of the fiercely competitive teams in tantalizingly fine balance. 74 runs remained to be scored off 76 balls, a large proportion of which were to be bowled by the brilliant Brett Lee and the miserly Michel Johnson. Shaun Tait, erratic yet effective in patches, waited in the wings. It was as close as a quarter final could possibly get. The din was unbelievable in Ahmedabad.
charged in to bowl. A crucial card played by Ricky Ponting, which held the fortunes of the fiercely competitive teams in tantalizingly fine balance. 74 runs remained to be scored off 76 balls, a large proportion of which were to be bowled by the brilliant Brett Lee and the miserly Michel Johnson. Shaun Tait, erratic yet effective in patches, waited in the wings. It was as close as a quarter final could possibly get. The din was unbelievable in Ahmedabad.
M.S. Dhoni had negotiated a couple of dot balls, not very convincingly. Pressure was
mounting. The ball from Lee was short, outside the off-stump, whistling through the air, crying to be hit. The eyes of the Indian captain lit up and he went for the cut. He connected fiercely. Eyes turned towards the vacant point boundary.
mounting. The ball from Lee was short, outside the off-stump, whistling through the air, crying to be hit. The eyes of the Indian captain lit up and he went for the cut. He connected fiercely. Eyes turned towards the vacant point boundary.
However, Michael Clarke from backward point leapt to his right and held on to the blinding white flash streaking past him. The thousands of raucous voices were muted simultaneously as if with a magic remote. In deathly silence, the skipper trudged back to the pavilion.
And now we take our eyes off the ground and look at the parallel universe of the
internet.
internet.
What followed in the game is history, documented graphically and oft. The sterling show of pluck by two left handers, some moments of smiling fate and some audacious stroke play, have been replayed and written about in the print, electronic and audiovisual media in an avalanche of information so representative of the times. So, let us get back to the moment of the captain’s dismissal and how it affected the Internet.
FaceBook and Twitter went on a hypercritical overdrive. In the past one had to foray into the fields and become one amongst the tens of thousands in the stands to get to know the weird working of the minds of the hordes of fickle fans who consider themselves to be the cognoscenti. Today, thanks to the modern thought conglomeration made possible by Social Networking, packets of fanaticism can trace their irrational paths at the speed approaching that of light, and splatter contents across walls at the other side of the world.
“A$$hole Dhoni ... must have got a signal from the bookies that it was time to get out.”
“MSD bats only in ads nowadays.”
These are largely benign examples of some of the seething eruptions of men who had been let down by the Indian captain while they expended their sweat and blood for the Indian cause in cubicles and revolving chairs of their offices, or holding expensive Styrofoam glasses of Barista coffee or with
If Raina and Yuvaraj had not managed the impossible of keeping their cool even as thousands
of the i-Phone and laptop owning supposed cream of the populace were letting off their steam in the vitriolic virtual space, Captain Cool of the recent past would have ended up as Captain Calamity.
of the i-Phone and laptop owning supposed cream of the populace were letting off their steam in the vitriolic virtual space, Captain Cool of the recent past would have ended up as Captain Calamity.
And now let us look back at the dismissal. Short of length, outside the offs-stump, no one in the square boundary. Six inches on either side, an infinitesimally late reaction by Michael Clarke, or a marginally less agile fielder in the position, and the ball would have rebounded into the ground after thudding into the advertisement boards. Forty thousand people would be on their feet in the ground, splashing the stands with euphoric sound waves. And the thought connections across the virtual network would have resonated with different sentiments altogether.
Forget a hitherto un-thought of batting average in both tests and One Day Internationals by an Indian wicketkeeper. Forget the win loss ratio in tests which is currently almost three times better than any other Indian captain. The image of the man, and the reaction of his fan following, hinges on chance outcomes, six inches this way or that – and it determines the course of lives and histories.
The cyberspace was similarly congested with caustic criticism when he bowled Ashish
Nehra, which allowed South Africa to snick and clobber their way to a close win in the first round. The wisdom or the lack of it of not bowling Harbhajan was brought out by every arm chair critic who had ever glimpsed, even if not grabbed, a tennis ball during gully cricket. Indians are never too tolerant of those amassing money through endorsement of products, and the captain bore the brunt of the heartbreaks of those who had sweated away for seven hours glued to the television screen, half burnt cigarettes in hand and feet up on the settee. If
Peterson’s inside edge off the first ball had clipped the leg stump instead of sneaking to the fine boundary, it would have been another masterstroke of the ever unfazed skipper.
Peterson’s inside edge off the first ball had clipped the leg stump instead of sneaking to the fine boundary, it would have been another masterstroke of the ever unfazed skipper.
Contrast this with the heady summer of 2007, when the Captain Cool image was embossed with the loving warmth of a nation as India edged out their arch rivals in the final of the inaugural 20-20 World Cup in South Africa. When the Indians returned from the victorious mission in the most farcical of cricketing formats, television channels queued up to capture the homecoming images of the heroes, with a respectable English News Channel providing enlightening status updates to the viewers with snippets such as, “Dhoni’s brother has just taken the dog out for a walk.”
 | In the last over, supposedly India and Dhoni had been cool as a cucumber and had outwitted Misbah ul Haq to pip Pakistan by five runs. If we recall the last over, it had been bowled by the weak link of that day – Joginder Sharma. And if Misbah had not tried that peculiar scoop which went down the throat of Sreesanth, or if he had played it one yard either way, the bottom line would have been entirely different. The craze for T20 may have been less inane and insane. The Milton Friedman like free market in the game –transforming the face of cricket by putting players up for auction and filling grounds with cheerleaders, Bollywood stars and Lalit Modis – may have been delayed or dampened. |
Cricket is intricately woven into the social texture of the sub-continent, and much more importantly in the financial fabric. The corporations swoop in to make mega bucks out of the madness that can be approximated as love for the game even as the passion tends towards the psychological limits of obsession. However, right from the first seed that had been sown three decades ago resulting in the money plant of the current day, the fan following has been dictated by the roll of fortune’s dice.
In 1983, when a bunch of rather unheralded Indians took on the might of the West Indies, everything proceeded as per regular laws of nature before chance played its part, changing the Indian way of life forever.
Selectorial blunders, so typical in Indian cricket, were carried out to predictable perfection, gaping bloomers that are now projected as strategic brilliance. Kirti Azad featured in the final, bowling all of 3 overs and lasting three balls before playing an attractive hook off Michael Holding into the giant palms of Joel Garner. Ravi Shastri, the Champion of Champions in the next big tournament India won, had to sit it out in the dressing room. Yashpal Sharma poked around three quarters of an hour for 11, negotiating the greatest ever fast bowling quartet
before falling to the bland offspin of Larry Gomes. He had been preferred as the two drop batsman ahead of Dilip Vengsarkar – that too at Lords, a ground where the colonel could score centuries at will.
before falling to the bland offspin of Larry Gomes. He had been preferred as the two drop batsman ahead of Dilip Vengsarkar – that too at Lords, a ground where the colonel could score centuries at will.
It went more or less according to sure-fire script as long as the Indians batted. The four pronged pace attack had the batsmen hopping. Mohinder Amarnath played a steadying innings of 26, consuming 80 balls in the process – a statistic that has sunk into the oblivion of euphoria and time. Sandeep Patil, Kapil Dev and the rest could not manage too many. The Indians managed just 183.
However, those were the days before the love of cricket and the financial impetus had turned
fans into fire-breathing fanatics. Cell phones had not been invented. Internet was in the incubator of the United States Military. Speculating endorsers had not made business plans based on the results of tournaments. Above all, no one expected the Indians to win. Hence, the players could concentrate on the game as they changed and went out to field.
fans into fire-breathing fanatics. Cell phones had not been invented. Internet was in the incubator of the United States Military. Speculating endorsers had not made business plans based on the results of tournaments. Above all, no one expected the Indians to win. Hence, the players could concentrate on the game as they changed and went out to field.
Madan Lal, Roger Binny and Mohinder Amarnath were now asked to team up with Kapil Dev and do to Greenidge, Haynes, Richards, Gomes and Llyod what Roberts, Garner, Holding and Marshall had done to Yashpal Sharma and Kirti Azad. It was now that two chance occurrences changed the face of India forever. Balwinder Singh Sandhu, a decent, hard working, eminently harmless medium pacer, useful but less than threatening in English conditions, attempted an outswinger which somehow eluded his intentions and almost all existing physical laws to come back and hit the stumps as Gordon Greenidge shouldered arms. |  |
 | In walked Vivian Richards, eager to end the match in a hurry, with enough time to adjust his stroke twice before blazing the turf with boundaries off Madan Lal. Having raced to 33 off 26 balls he shaped to pull a trademark tardy Madan delivery from the off stump into the wide open spaces of the on-side. Ninety nine times out of hundred, the great man would have ended the stroke with nonchalant gum chewing, once in a while wondering whether he should ask the bowler to fetch it from the stands. On this day, however, he top-edged. And Kapil Dev ran and ran and ran from widish mid-on as time stopped still and the world watched in disbelief, and pouched the ball inches from the fence. |
In retrospect, it can be deduced to have been a trap. However, a minute difference in timing would have had it soar for six. Some days things happen for you and some days they don’t. On that day, the two unusual wickets sent back Greenidge and Richards. Mohinder Amarnath started looking unplayable. West Indies were all out for 140.
While a lot of Indian fans – remarkably many of them newly converted – deigned to disagree that the outcome had been a fluke, Clive Llyod scoffed under his bushy moustache. West Indies toured India that winter and steamrolled over them winning the six test series 3-0 and all five of the one day internationals.
However, the elements of chance had conspired and succeeded, thus creating a following
for the game which brings out the unmatched Indian parameters of numbers and rrationality.
Latching on to this lucky stroke, the game went through a gradual upheaval from the mid eighties, and with the coming of globalisation, Sachin Tendulkar and his cronies, it has reached the level of madness that allows corporations to milk millions from this melting pot of mania.
for the game which brings out the unmatched Indian parameters of numbers and rrationality.
Latching on to this lucky stroke, the game went through a gradual upheaval from the mid eighties, and with the coming of globalisation, Sachin Tendulkar and his cronies, it has reached the level of madness that allows corporations to milk millions from this melting pot of mania.
Make no mistake. The Indian team had sweated it out and won that day with some excellent cricket and commitment. The 1983 team had introduced victory as a possible alternative in the rather morose history of the sport. The willow and the leather soon catapulted into the status of the national sport, displacing the official hockey sticks and plastic balls. By the turn of the century, it had become a religion, with its own pantheon of worshipped gods, cults and myths. However, eyes cannot be closed to the workings of the hand of fate.
When music blares every time there is a boundary, wicket or any other regular or irregular pause in the game, when stars descend from the Bollywood firmament and swing their hips to the rhythm of the fortunes of the home team, when frenzied fans are perpetually a step away from letting the champagne flow or setting fire to effigies, it is easy to be swayed by emotions. It is difficult to remember that the gods are man-made and have human limitations. |  |
 | Commercialised as it is, cricket is not clockwork but a sport. And as in any other human endeavour, much depends on chance. On being a fraction of a second early or late into the timing, on playing it a yard to the right or the left, on the odd bounce, on landing on the seam, on the gusts of winds and the cloud cover in the skies. |
The perturbing paradox remains – if consciousness about chance factors defy the monumental odds and grow amongst the populace, if rationality rules and therefore emotional extremism dies against the steely coldness of logic, will that good for the game? Will that be good for the corporations who profess commitment to the game by eking out franchising deals? What will that mean for the talented individuals earning with the sweat of their brow?
If allegations of match fixing does not flow as packets of frustration through the fibre-optic cables from millions as soon as M.S. Dhoni departs, will it be good for his claims as a successful modern day cricketer?
The Cricket World Cup – 1983 and thereafter - Aumlan Guha
An Indian Perspective for the ones uninitiated into the History of the Indian game accidentally invented by the British
Aumlan Guha is a Cricket fan stuck in the corporate world.
In this issue, he provides a fan’s introductive course on the history of the Cricket World Cup ever since it became an absolutely Indian game.
“Wake up, wake up!! We’ve won!! We’ve won!!”
It was June 1983, and I was enjoying a peaceful night’s sleep when my mom, clearly ecstatic, shook me awake. My senses not fully alert, I asked her what the matter was. She said that we had won the World Cup – what it meant I knew not then.
| The next day I resolved to find out what it was all about. If my mom, normally very calm and composed, could get excited enough to shake me awake at night, with school next day, it had to be something really significant. Newspapers and friends helped me understand why it was such a big deal, and life was never the same again. Till then, my only real passion had been reading, ever since infancy. However, in the afterglow of the victory, slowly but surely, cricket began to dominate a substantial part of my mindshare. And to my pleasantest surprise, I discovered that if I wanted to watch cricket, my otherwise-strict dad did not mind as long as I did my homework. So, I became a follower of the game, waiting patiently for the opportunity to return my mom’s favor, waking her up and telling her that we had won. |
Something very interesting also happened, around this time. Not exactly out in the open, but the outcome led to a paradigm shift in the way the game was played, perceived and marketed. In the wake of India unexpectedly reaching the final of the 1983 Prudential Cup, Mr. N. K. P. Salve, the then-BCCI President, and a Union Minister to boot, asked for some complimentary passes to the final. The request which was refused. Incensed at this, he pledged to uproot the tournament itself and take it to the subcontinent. Pakistan and Sri Lanka were easily convinced, and some extensive lobbying led to the Associate nations being ‘persuaded’. After many heated discussions, and in the face of much opposition, the 1987
tournament was awarded to the subcontinent, to be jointly hosted by India and Pakistan, with the final to be played at Kolkata.
tournament was awarded to the subcontinent, to be jointly hosted by India and Pakistan, with the final to be played at Kolkata.
Shorter days in that part of the world meant that the matches had to be curtailed from 60 to 50 overs per innings and so they were, and have remained ever since. Hoardings at venues all through the tournament bore advertisements put up by Indian sponsors, and it has also remained thus ever since. The title sponsor also changed – the Prudential World Cup for the first three editions of the tournament giving way to the Reliance Group. Australia remain the only winners of the Reliance World Cup, defeating England by 7 runs, the closest difference till date in any World Cup final. The tournament was an unqualified success, silencing all the Doubting Thomases about the subcontinent’s ability to host a glitch-free event of this scale. |
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The next edition of the World Cup saw it travel Down Under with Australia and New Zealand co-hosting in early 1992. With the sponsor changing again, it was christened anew – the Benson and Hedges Cup. A controversial and plainly ridiculous rain rule aside – which saw a gallant South Africa bow out in the face of laughable resetting of target – this tournament remains, to my mind, the one with the best format. Teams were not divided in groups. Each side played all others in a round robin league, and the top 4 made the semifinals. India, however, did not go that far, stuttering all through. Pakistan, the ultimate champions, started off in first gear, but accelerated in time as the tournament went on, finishing with a bang in the final at Melbourne. In the process their talismanic skipper, Imran Khan signed off a glorious career on a high. |
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| Bowing to Advertisers- SA walk back with 12 balls less to play in more than adequate conditions |
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| Come 1996 and the World Cup was back in the subcontinent, sponsored by yet another tobacco company, Wills. This time, Sri Lanka joined India and Pakistan as co-hosts. Unfortunately fearing security problems, Australia and West Indies refused to make the trip to Colombo, preferring instead to give Sri Lanka a walkover. My mom’s sleep, however, remained undisturbed as India imploded spectacularly in the semi-final against Sri Lanka. At 120 for 8, they were on the verge of losing, when sections of the ever excitable Kolkata crowd started sharing their fruits with fielding Lankans, and following it up with water, often packaged in bottles. | ||
After a couple of attempts to resume the match failed, the match referee Clive Lloyd awarded the tie by default to the Lankans. It was the first default ever in an international cricket match, Test or ODI – till Darrel Hair’s obstinacy and Inzamam ul Haq’s nonchalance saw a repeat in the English summer of 2006. The Lankans faced the Aussies in the final at Lahore, and, riding a superb all-round performance by Aravinda de Silva, sauntered home, remaining to this day, the only host (or co- host) to lift the Cup. |
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| From the 1999 edition, there has been no title sponsor. It has remained the ICC Cricket World Cup. That year the World Cup returned to England after a gap of 16 years. This time round though, England were not alone as hosts. A few matches were played in Scotland (2), Ireland, Wales and the Netherlands (1 each). India’s campaign never really took off and they exited from the Super Sixes, in part because they did not carry forward any points to the second round of this strange tournament format. Australia won the Cup, partly because they were the one team to remain at the top of their game all through, and also because one Mr. Steve Waugh was in his element both as batsman and as captain. |
India started off their campaign in a rather lackluster fashion, inducing strong public outcry back in India, including vandalisation of the homes of some of the players. But, after the lack of energy in their first couple of performances, a labored win over Netherlands and a meek submission to Australia, things began to look up. The batting began to come into its own, driven by a slew of sparkling knocks from Sachin Tendulkar, with able support from Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly. The seamers led by Javagal Srinath and Zaheer Khan started to hit the right spots. In particular the league match against Pakistan saw some sizzling cricket with a special hundred by Saeed Anwar and a 98 from Tendulkar. The latter gem had class stamped all over it, scored at a strike rate of 130.66, yet without an agricultural or inelegant stroke.
Soon enough, India was in the Super Six. Three matches and three easy victories later, India faced Kenya in the semifinal. It proved to be the proverbial stroll in the park, with the skipper leading the way with a nice hundred. After 20 years, India was in the final again. The form book showed ample opportunity for me to awake my mother with the good news. However, things proved to be different in the final against Australia though with pretty much everything going wrong, barring the toss. |
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| The 2007 edition was the first time that the tournament was held in the sun kissed islands of the Caribbean. Australia once again proved their superiority in One Day cricket, remaining undefeated throughout, beating Sri Lanka in the final at Barbados. India and Pakistan both exited in the first round, leading to large numbers of fans from the Indian subcontinent to leave early, thereby causing a massive shortfall in projected revenue. India performed abysmally, losing to both Sri Lanka and Bangladesh in the Group stage, and their only win coming over minnows Bermuda. |
The tournament also had more than its share of controversy and misfortune. Bob Woolmer, the Pakistan coach, was found dead in his hotel room a day after his team crashed out. Conspiracy theories held sway for the first few weeks, but Jamaican police have since come up with the official version that it was a death by natural causes. Another big controversy was the way in which the final ended, with the two teams playing out the last couple of overs in virtual darkness.
The current World Cup is the third to be held in the subcontinent, India, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh are the co-hosts, with the final to be played in Mumbai. Pakistan, originally named as a co host, had their hosting rights were taken away following the unstable situation in the country – a decision influenced
specifically by the attack on the Sri Lankan team in March 2009 in Lahore, where seven of the team members, the assistant coach and a reserve umpire were injured, some needing hospitalization. On paper, the current edition of the tournament is the most open.
specifically by the attack on the Sri Lankan team in March 2009 in Lahore, where seven of the team members, the assistant coach and a reserve umpire were injured, some needing hospitalization. On paper, the current edition of the tournament is the most open.
As I write, there are at least 4 teams who could come out on top. We have just ended the reign of Australia in the quarter finals – and it is now that all the teams have to be at their prime.
The current edition of the World Cup is the tenth overall. I have watched six of the previous ones, beginning from 1987. In twenty four years however, there have been no decipherable change in my level of excitement. Nonetheless, this time there is an added sense of anticipation and hope. Anticipation for the
Master’s century of centuries (he is just one short at the time of writing), and hope that our batting lineup is able to do enough to cover up our weaknesses in bowling and fielding.
Master’s century of centuries (he is just one short at the time of writing), and hope that our batting lineup is able to do enough to cover up our weaknesses in bowling and fielding.
A nation waits with bated breath. I hope that, close to 28 years since she disturbed my sleep to tell me that we had won the World Cup, I can return my mom the compliments.
