PRIMAL PEDIGREE

This was a piece I had penned back in April. Now that Virender Sehwag has again demonstrated how he can swing matches single-handedly with an astonishing 293 (shame that he couldn't get to be the first player to get to 3 triple centuries, but don't bet against him) against Sri Lanka in the third test match at Mumbai, it is an apt time to share this unpublished piece of work celebrating the force of nature that is Viru!

THE third match in the second season of the Indian Premier League presented a very peculiar situation for Virender Sehwag, the Delhi Daredevils skipper. In a match already shortened to 12 overs a side, the Kings XI Punjab had put up 104 runs on the board and rain and the intervention of Messer’s Duckworth and Lewis were imminent. Suddenly, the Daredevils were chasing 60 odd runs in a six – six! – over game. Unperturbed, Sehwag did not put a foot wrong or change his approach even a wee bit as Delhi romped home in an innings as short as a commercial break! And that is the value of Virender Sehwag, the matchwinner. He can win you test matches, he can chase down targets in one day matches with unbelievable ease and his mental make up and physical aggression is just perfect for the Twenty20 version too. Turns out, he can even win you six over contests. In terms of match winning and sheer impact on the game, in modern times there simply isn’t anyone who comes close to the marauder from Delhi. Wisden chose him as the ‘Leading Cricketer in the World’ for 2008, and a run through of what he achieved in that year, not just in terms of statistics but sheer game changing power, is enough to illustrate the point. Viru is a match winner, one whose mould was destroyed once they made him. Writes Ravi Shastri in Wisden, ‘Virender Sehwag is a marvel of modern times, a genius who has confounded conventional wisdom, whose daring is now a part of cricket's folklore’.

You can take a look at the stats for evidence. His improved figures (his ODI average jumps an amazing 27 points in wins since 1^st May 2007) in wins bear out his contribution, but then, with Sehwag numbers never capture the whole story. Audacity and gumption are things that are not taught at coaching clinics and neither are they measurable through an average or a strike rate. Consider this stat – In matches won while chasing in a one day international (since May 2007) his average stands at a whooping 73.50 in 9 matches. Numbers can merely vaguely reflect the kind of impression that he’s left on every venue he’s played his cricket in. There is no denying that India’s recent dominance at home and brilliance abroad has been fuelled by a hungry and lethal bowling attack, a solid middle order batting base, an astute captain and generally sharper fielding. But just look back at 2008 and you realize the Sehwag signature is there all over. A phenomenal strike rate of 85 per 100 balls in Test (yes, Test!) cricket, and 120 in One Day Internationals are testimony to how he can change things, and change them quick! When he’s at the crease, time becomes a blur. There was the fastest triple century in Test history against South Africa, a stunning effort by any standards (‘After 200 runs, I was very tired and wanted to score runs quickly but Rahul Dravid told me that if you can hold on and stay there for a while and use this lifetime opportunity to score your second triple hundred…so I played my game patiently and it worked in my favor’ ) followed by a double hundred in a Test in Sri Lanka where the rest of the batsmen struggled to even get to fifty. Paradoxically, Sehwag hasn’t been all about an ephemeral ‘Crash! Boom! Bang!’ in Tests, 11 of his 15 Test hundreds are scores of 150+.

The debate has often raged as to whether Sehwag is the greatest Indian batsman. It’s a little preposterous to propose that at this moment, but he definitely belongs to a class of one – a unique force of nature that’s a marvelous mixture of technique and tenacity, a combination where the cerebral meets the cocky. His own philosophy and approach towards the game is incredibly simple and clutter free. When asked about his approach at dominating bowlers most of the time he said, ‘We played with the 20-20 format when I was a little boy and all I did was apply the same mindset to international cricket.’ How’s that for simplicity? Sure, living on the edge like he does at the crease has its disadvantages, but if he were to let those concerns rule, we would all be missing the point. He has altered the psychological underpinnings of putting bat to ball, just calling it aggression would be doing his attitude and approach a disservice. He is a performer so powerful that it’s impossible to imagine every form of the game without him.

Virender Sehwag is about testing, what a TV program in the 1980s called ‘The Outer Limits’. He’s the mad scientist of world cricket, unafraid to experiment and back his guts, consequences be damned. After all, there is a bit of madness in every genius.

MY TENDULKAR TRYSTS

2013 Update: This was written four years ago.

And while the world didnt quite end in 2012, we finally have to reckon with the prospect of cricket without Sachin.

I dont need to overemphasize that it wont be the same anymore.

"Cricket lives in my heart and whenever I'm on a cricket field I enjoy it, and somewhere there's still a 16-year-old hidden inside who wants to go out and express himself" said Sachin Tendulkar in an interview to Cricinfo.com as he completes a phenomenal 20 years at the international level, pretty much all of them at the top of his game. Genius is such a cliche and legend such a trite adjective that they do no justice in capturing the luminosity of Sachin's radiance in the cricket world. 

Newspapers, magazines, TV channels and of course websites on the internet have been working up a frenzy as the master hit a rare milestone (quick, think of another international cricketer who's spent 20 years indisputably at the top. Can't think of any? Thought so!) and all his innings, achievements and impact on the game have been super analyzed to bits. I would spare you a re run of all that, dear reader, because I wish to offer my connection with the Tendulkar universe. Firstly, in the interest of disclosure, I have never met Sachin Tendulkar. The nearest I have come to him is about 20 feet, and there was still a boundary rope, a gutter, and a six feet high fence between us. And yes, there happened to be an India Pakistan test match going on. Further disclosure, in my three years as a (sort of) sports writer, I have never had the fortune of an interview (telephonic or e-mail. What about a personal interview, you ask? Well, hello! I told you I have never met him! And I'm sure it's illegal or something to try and hurl questions at a cricketer fielding at fine leg during an test match!) or even a press conference (lousy press pass!). Truth be told, it's perhaps a good thing that I've always admired him as a fan for the pure joy he has brought to our lives through his expression of the game and his dedication to it. 

My view and connection remains untainted by the need to criticize or compare or the urge to sully or sensationalize. To me, he remains the embodiment of Bob Dylan's classic song 'Forever Young'. And that's why that line at the beginning makes so much sense. For Sachin, I wish to remain the 10-year old cricket fan forever who doesn't have to analyze why his average drops in the fourth innings of a test match, or figure out why India lose even when he bats brilliantly, or suspect that he plays for a milestone sometimes, or question his captaincy credentials or theorize that he has a weakness against the ball that seams in. Of course, I can talk about Sachin's great innings - Sachinnings (one Sharjah paper called a hundred of his against Pakistan in 1996 'Sachinnings!' and I've stuck to that ever since!). Like that hundred in the desert storm in Sharjah against Australia and the one immediately after that in the final of that tournament. Or the outstanding pain barrier conquering yet Greek hero like tragic epic at Chennai against Paksitan. Or the masterfully manipulated and controlled 'look ma, no off side' double ton at Sydney. Or the cracking 114 on a fast Perth wicket where men twice his age were after him trying to take his head off. Or that poignant return against Kenya at the World Cup 24 hours after his dad's funeral. Or even that un-batting contribution of a nerveless over against South Africa at the Eden Gardens in the Hero Cup semi final in 1993 where he had just six runs to defend! I mean, you get the picture.

Almost 30,000 international runs and a mind boggling near about 100 international tons and the numerous other records, the innings and the achievements cannot be captured even in a fraction of their grandeur in a puny blog like this. But there is a perfect Sachin moment I'd like to share with everyone. It was the fifth and deciding ODI on India's historic tour to Pakistan in 2004 and India, having put 293 on the board were looking to pile on the pressure. But Inzamam Ul Haq unleashed a few classy strokes and was growing in confidence threatening to bring Pakistan back into the contest. He lofted the left armer Murali Karthik over mid on and the shot looked good enough for a six, before Tendulkar plucked it off right on the boundary rope pulling off a superb catch. 

"The flat hit seemed to have just enough strength to clear long-on, but Tendulkar, skirting dangerously close to the boundary, hung on to the ball even as he ensured that he didn't step on the rope" wrote Cricinfo in their match bulletin. He ran wild with enthusiasm having contributed vitally by cutting Inzamam's dangerous looking innings short and the childlike excitement on his face as he celebrated was impossibly infectious. Seeing Sachin celebrate with such boundless mirth was an uplifting experience in itself. As the umpires confirmed that he was not touching the rope when he held the catch, what Sanjay Manjrekar said on commentary was telling. He said, 'If Sachin's claiming the catch, it has to be out!' He has always been a sportsman first, a superstar much, much later. And to top it all, it was Sachin's 100th catch in ODIs. Of course, with Sachin you're never far from a milestone. That one moment captures almost everything about what Sachin Tendulkar brings to the game.

Excellence, a lot of other players have in loads, but genial humanity and strength of character? Try searching a coaching book for those chapters. He has always been driven and happy to contribute to the game he loves so much, and that love has made millions of others feel a rush that they will never forget in their lives. Look at the picture above and seeing Sachin acknowledge the congratulations of the groundsmen after winning the Chennai test against England in 2008 tells you all you need to know. If you are looking for a soundtrack to describe his legacy in the world of cricket I have the perfect piece - Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 whose last movement contains the words from the poem 'Ode to Joy'! Yes, Sachin will retire one day (I can't imagine that day because all my proper cricket watching life I've never had to confront that possibility). 

If the world is coming to an end on Dec. 21, 2012 like the Mayans say, my only wish is that Sachin retires on Dec 20!

IN DEFENCE OF GOLIATH

EVERYBODY wants to root for the underdog. It's nothing novel, or radical. After all, some of the most fascinating sports stories are where the proverbial David and his humble slingshot are able to take down the proverbial Goliath. But spare a thought for Goliath here, the superperformer, the man to beat, the undisputed champion (till of course, David introduces the dispute!).

Since I started watching baseball and specifically Major League Baseball about a decade ago, I have hated the New York Yankees. They seemed to be on a roll, wrapping every pennant and title in sight, virtually untouchable packed with some of the most awesome talent (MLB's biggest payroll can buy you lots of the good stuff!) and their storied leagcy only reinforcing their aura. For a first time baseball fan, they are a perfect starting base to enjoy the game - the big historical heroes like Joe Di Maggio and Babe Ruth, the current generation superstars like A-Rod and Derek Jeter and of course the lure of New York, New York! But the splendour and almost too easy success somehow did not appeal to me. In the same vein, I didn't go with Manchester United when I started watching the Premier League and I sure as heck wasn't going to back Australia when watching a cricket match. It's not a coincidence that the Yankees' 27 World Series titles are the most in MLB history, Australia have 4 World Cups to their credit (three straight from 1999-2007) and Man U have the most Premier League titles (currently tied at 19 with Liverpool, but the way this season's going they should head the table soon). Or even look at Real Madrid, undoubtedly the true Goliaths of European Football. All these teams have great pasts and look brilliantly solid for a great run in the future. And that's perhaps why, apart from their fans, almost everybody else loves to hate them. It is easy to despise the 'Big Guy'. There's
always the anti established kind of sentiment that spreads like wildfire and everyone else would give an arm and a leg (well, if that sounds far fetched, ask the Afghans who fought Russia) to see the Big Guy take a tumble.

Somehow, Big equals Evil. A little digression into the world of business - when Google was a start up challenging Microsoft everyone loved them, but now suddenly, as Google grows big, it has become the 'evil' corporation! But consider for a moment a world without these Goliaths. No Roger Federer in tennis, or Tiger
Woods in Golf or Yanks in baseball, and the sports littered with small teams of almost equal abilities. Sports fans would have a boring time having no one to direct their hatred at. Big Guns are, in my opinion, those who bring in the real excitement and along the way absorb enormous amounts of hatred and crticism for everything from tactics (Aussie sledging?) to abuse of money and power (Real buying the hottest footballers every season) to even large scale cheating (Juventus accused of running a systematic doping program in Italian Serie A) .

Watching the Yankees this year at the World Series in baseball against the Philadephia Phillies (I was obviously rooting for the Phillies) made me realize that you look at an efficient and ruthless sports team and you realize that being Goliath is not so easy after all. And most of the times, Goliath's win is what lends that feeling around you that there is some order in the world. An occasional chaotic moment, an upset win, a huge collapse from the favourites is alright, but if it becomes the norm, believe me, you will begin feeling scared and disoriented.
Humans crave for order and sense, and a lack of it for even a short while may be too much too handle. Goliaths bring stability to proceedings in that sense. And watching the best do their best sometimes can grudingly lead you to concede the simple superiority of the 'Goliath' in the battle. Watching Alex Rodriguez, Andy Pettite, Mark Teixeiria and Derek Jeter for the Yankees in that World Series gave me that kind of a feeling. In the middle of the series I had resigned myself to a Yankee win and all I wanted was for the Phillies to just put up a good enough fight. The same is true whenever I watch a Man U game. These powerhouses with their clinical displays most often set the benchmarks for the rest to follow, to pump themselves and raise their games to the next level. If there weren't any Sachin Tendulkar, whose wicket would you aim for? In that sense the existence of these Goliaths is the very essence of competition in sport and thereby they are doing a great service to the game.

Like I said, it's fairly easy to deride them, but the familiarity of Goliath gives you that feeling that there's some constancy in this world. No wonder Yankees Team President Randy Levine said after the 2009 World Series win (Yanks' first title since 2000) "The Yankees won. The world is right again." After all, if there weren't any Goliath, who would David really stick it to!

THE JUDAS STRAIN

LAST weekend while watching the Liverpool vs. Manchester United game in the English Premier League my most difficult moment as a Liverpool fan came in the 73rd minute of the game. The Reds were already leading via a fantastic Torres strike, but Sir Alex had just made a
substitution. Michael Owen had taken the field at Anfield, in a Man U. shirt. It was a strange feeling for someone who'd seen Owen from his earliest days and one of the reasons Liverpool became my favourites was Owen's style and enthusiasm. But then 'Boy Wonder' left his nursery for Newcastle, and a few frustrating seasons later committed the footballing equivalent of apostapy by signing up with Manchester United. It was a strange feeling akin to the great cricket writer Nevile Cardus's who used to pray "Please God let Trumper score a century tomorrow in an England win". Cardus loved the Australian batsman Victor Trumper, but after all he was English. So, Anfield did roundly boo Owen, but surely some (Ok, at least me anyway!) were secretly hoping for some magic from Owen.

When one of Mersyside's favourite sons moves over to their archrivals, it is hard not to get sentimental about it, say what you will about the professional sportsman and dreams of avarice being the fuel that keeps their engines running. Or take the case of Brett Favre - NFL quarterback who spent his entire career with the Green Bay Packers first retires and then comes out of it (un-retired, as some savvy newspapers put it!) and dons a Minnesota Vikings shirt. And then? Well, he returns to Green Bay to beat the Packers (thus becoming the only QB ever to earn a win against all of NFL's 32 franchises!). Green Bay fans, players and officials obviously weren't totally kicked about it - again never mind the fact that they wouldn't have given Favre a start had he stayed with the Packers. And of course, the biggest case of them all - Boston Red Sox selling Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees in 1919. The Yanks, led by Ruth, went on to become one of baseball's most successful franchises (actually, the most successful) while the Red Sox suffered from the 'Curse of the Bambino' going title less for 86 long years in baseball. Wonder how the Red Sox fans felt as Ruth rocked every department for the Yankees.

But in this modern world of globalized sport, should this 'Judas' strain be considered so seriously? Yes, players will move where the flow of capital takes them (you know, it's way more than 20 pieces of silver for which Jesus was betrayed) and often they may land up with bitter rivals. But if they are true professionals they will continue just the same - plying their trade at the highest level possible. Naturally, a Michael Owen can't let the sentiment of returning to Anfield mar his chances of making a contribution to United. For the fans, though, it will always remain a different story. And boy, was I glad that I was saved some seriously conflicting views had Owen scored a winner or an equalizer. As a student of mine put it, 'There would be a riot out there'. Sure...a riot of conflictinf emotions.

THE LITE RUNNER

RUN CITY
Berlin. Bogota. Buenos Aires. Guadlajara. Guangzhou. London. Mexico City. Milan. Monterrey. Mt. Fuji. New York City. Oslo. Padova. Rio De Janerio. Rome. Seoul. Singapore. Taipei. Tel Aviv. And of course, Bangalore. These were the cities across which Nike was organizing its giant and unique marketing effort - the Nike + Human Race 10k. There is no question about Nike's marketing prowess but even by their lofty standards involving about three quarters of a million runners across 27 cities in the world on the same day in a celebratory run was quite something. It was the uniqueness of the experience that drew me in. A 10k road race was no longer a 'will-I-finish-it' challenge. But the prospect of bettering my competitive 10k timing was incentive enough. Nike believes that if you have a body, you are an athelete. And true enough, about a 1000 Bangaloreans of all shapes and sizes showed up on a Saturday afternoon eagerly waiting for the race to be flagged off. It was the pre race warm up ritual that was the most fun. Usually in races runners tend to stick to own personal styles of warm ups, but here we were asked to organize into files and gym instructors on stage ran us through the steps. Looking at 900 odd people going at the manouvers at the same time and half of them going right when the instructor screamed 'left' almost made me feel I was back in the middle of a school P.T. class! Chaotic warm up over, it was time for the starting gun to be fired.
START ME UP
The emcee for the evening VJ Yudi had a few words of encouragement as everyone took positions. He explained how the world was running together and once we'd all run the race everyone's timing would up on the Nike website (thanks to a timing chip everyone was wearing) and you can impress people all across the world with your timing. 'Even the ladies in France will be checking the timings', he quipped. The female runner just ahead of me shouted, 'What about the men in France?' Just then, the starting gun wen off, fired by Indian cricketer Sreesanth. Yudi was at it again quipping that it was a good thing Sreesanth did not fire the gun at somebody!
This was a race I was feeling really confident about running because for some reason I was feeling very light on my feet. From the first kilometer onwards I focussed on keeping the steps quick, nimble and light. There were live bands along the way murdering rock songs twice over, but the runners were concentrating too hard on their rhythm or were not keen enough rock fans to care or both. I ran at a fair clip, and lest you think I was idling, let me assure you I was at my productive best. Having received a call at the 3rd kilometer, I had managed to book tickets for 'Wake up Sid' that evening for my boss by the 7th kilometer, all without even breaking into a sweat. No wonder, I was feeling amazingly light. Between the 5th and 6th km, thirst took over slowing and breaking my rythm. I ran to the nearest aid station and emptied a glass of water on my head only to realize it was actually electrolytes! Heck, I thought, my brain was screaming for glucose anyway! My body has actually been built perfectly for a 7k race. At every 10k race, I virtually trick it into running the remaining 3. In this race it was no different, but the 'glucose-in-my-head' therapy seemed to be working because I felt stronger in the final stretch this time.
HOME STRETCH
In what was my strongest finish in a 10k race (alright, I have run only 3 of them, but it was my strongest finish!) I ran hard in the last kilometer and sprinted the last 100 yards or so. With about 20 yards left, I could hear someone chanting 'Nike. Nike. Nike. Adidas. Nike.' Puzzled, I followed the sound and could see a guy near the finish line chanting that into his walkie-talkie. As I ran past, and he shouted 'Reebok!', I realized what was going on. He was tracking the shoe brand for each runner! Oh, yes, I'd forgotten that we were all in the midst of a giant marketing gig from the mother of all marketers. Capitalism's queer cries were not enough to distract me though as I crossed the finish line in 56 minutes and 22 seconds! An improvement of 3 minutes and 20 seconds over my last time at the Sunfeast 10k! Shaving off 5.6% off your personal best is no joke (just ask Usain Bolt whose jaw dropping 100m world record - 9.58 from 9.69 - at the IAAF World Championships imrpoved on his earlier record by about 1.5%). Ok, I exaggarate. About the only thing I have in common with the 6'5" fastest man on earth is that we both wear Puma socks while running. But still the excitement was hard to contain, though I maintained a straight face and didn't exactly indulge in Bolt-like celebrations. A satisfying race completed, it was time for community cool down exercises and this time the crowd was much smaller - about 100 - since a whole lot were still running. I hadn't really thought I'd shatter my personal best in such spectacular fashion but there's something about the spirit of the runners in this city that eggs you on. I felt light on my feet, because hundreds of Bangaloreans were gliding past me effortlessly well.

All I can say is that when Nike chose its only city in India for staging part of the Human Race, it chose well.

CYCLE OF LIFE

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride my bike

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride it where I like

Bicycle races are coming your way

So forget all your duties oh yeah

- QUEEN, 'Bicycle Race'

Queen released this song on 13th October 1978. Freddie Mercury, the Queen's lead man is said to have come up with the ideal while on a holiday in France when the Tour De France went past his hotel room window. Almost 31 years to the day (11 October 2009), Bangalore saw its first ever cyclothon. To release the song, the band staged a bicycle race featuring 65 naked women. The BSA Hercules Cyclothon, mercifully, featured clothed contestants including the writer of this blog.

But this blog on the race is not just about me. It's about the 6,000 odd Bangaloreans who came out in wholehearted support of cycling; it's about the octogenarian who smoothly rode alongside riders 1/4th of his age without missing a beat; it's about one of India's most familiar brand experts who was childlike in his enthusiasm; it's about the children whose enthusiasm was unmatchable; it's about the entrepreneur who just wanted to 'feel young'; it's about the joy of cycling that thousands discovered and will hopefully hang on to after that mad rush of a morning. Nobody was exactly Lance Armstrong or Alberto Contador out there but with bicycles of every conceivable type and make they showed up early in the morning at the magnificent Bangalore International Exhibition Center (BEIC) and stood patiently in line for getting to the start line. A cycle race would be a misnomer to describe the event I was a part of - a 'community ride' would be more appropriate. All the riders were expected to complete the 25km course but there was no competition. As if realizing the festive spirit the weather had smartly stepped aside, leaving us cloudy skies, no sun, a light breeze and fantastic conditions to ride without getting vaporized on the smooth stretch of the Mysore-Bangalore NICE Corridor. I use the word 'smooth' mostly in a figurative sense here, since I discovered how undulating the course was when on my bike.

UP THE STARTING BLOCK, WITHOUT A PEDAL

A bike race is fun alright, but the devil was in the logistical details for me as I ran against the clock to make sure I deposited my bike to the organizers on time for it to be transported to the race venue. In the haste, one of the pedals of the bike came off compounding my woes and as I deposited the cycle in, I realized I would be at the starting line the next morning with one pedal missing, and the bike in a condition that it cannot be ridden! In a sense, I was up the starting block, without a pedal!

ON A BOLT AND A PRAYER

I am fond of all things 80s (perhaps a rub-off of being born in that crazy decade, and living through most of it!) and one of my all time favourite TV series was MacGyver which starred Richard Dean Anderson as MacGyver, a secret agent armed with infinite scientific resourcefulness. He could wriggle out of any situation using stuff he found in and around him. I took inspiration from MacGyver as I searched for something to become my replacement pedal for the race, failing which my race was over before I even got to the starting line. After trying pieces of wood, a piece of plastic pipe, and other stuff I stumbled upon an unclaimed bolt with a nut lying on a table. It was the perfect size to fit through the pedal groove. The idea struck me immediately (confession: I flicked the bolt immediately. Warning: Children, stealing is bad...well, except when a cycle race you've been looking forward to for two months is in jeopardy. 'Better to live with dodgy morals than dodgy pedals!' I say) and I put the bolt in the groove and tightened the nut around it. It fit like a dream, bolstering my belief that the bolt had been delivered by angels at God's behest who'd answered my prayers. Or I was incredibly lucky. Serendipity or Spirituality? Whatever! Seeing the contraption, a fellow rider asked me if I could ride the cycle this way. I confidently said yes, though I seriously doubted if the makeshift pedal would survive 25km. But at least I had a pedal to start with. Thank you, MacGyver!

HERE WE GO

I pushed the cycle into the holding area and after some light warming up began chatting around with fellow riders. There was Harish Gulati, a 47 year old entrepreneur who had decided to become a part of the race to feel a little younger. Looking at the tattoo on his left arm, I suspected running cyclothons were not the only adventurous thing he was upto to feel younger. And the Bianchi cycle he was prodding around led me to believe that his business wasn't doing too badly either. (Bianchi road bikes, the last time I asked, begin retailing at about Rs. 30,000) I also bumped into Harish Bijoor, the brand expert, now clad in cycling gear. His face was lit with excitement, and all you could sense was childlike enthusiasm as the starting time drew near - quite a contrast to his suave demeanor when he is delivering his talks and workshops! But, by far the most inspirational character was Mr. Mahalingeshwar (pic above), an octogenarian (the first words of his on the introduction - 'I am a 1928 model!') who says he's been cycling for over six decades (disclosure: he's even had a heart bypass surgery!). He pointed to the Sport 18 (the organizer) logo on his bib and said that my age is the opposite of that number but I feel exactly this old. He punched me and Mr. Gulati lightly on the arm, pleased with the joke he'd just made. We could only watch wide jawed and I was thinking that at 81, I'd probably be fortunate to participate in a wheelchair race of some sort!

TOUR DE CHANCE

The race began and ended without event for me and despite all the apprehension about the pedal, it held good. I didn't have to get down from the bike even once (I was carrying my own water so didn't have to stop at the aid stations either) as the distance was conquered in an hour and 20 minutes (5 minutes more than I'd targeted). From the start to the halfway turn there were climbs galore. Granted, they weren't exactly the alpine climbs riders contend with at the Tour De France but they were quite taxing no less. Happily, on the return leg they turned into pleasant downhill stretches. A combination of luck and dexterity had seen me end the race in eventless fashion with all bones intact and the cycle still in good shape. I was pleased with how the chances I took paid off. As we crossed the finish line, the teen's ride was flagged off and the plucky teens were immediately off to strutting their stuff. One young boy, about 13-14 I guess, demonstrated a neat wheelie, much to the chargin of the race marshals. I later spotted him boasting 'Uncle! Uncle! Maine stunt maara!' to the ice cream walla!

Cycling is a brilliant amalgamation of both the body and the mind (keeps both invigorated), not to mention the eco friendliness of the endeavor (there were lots of riders with messages on their t-shirts about commuting to work on cycles) and that's what makes it such a joy - whether you are 13, 30 or 81. All I can say is, pedal on! Oh, shoot! That reminds me - gotta take that bolt out and put in a proper pedal there!

GYM CLASS ZERO

I MUST confess that I have never been a big fan of my body. Let's just say if the Greeks looked at the body as a temple, I look at it more like an utilitarian warehouse - as long as the stuff inside is safe, who gives a damn about the aesthetics! You might think talking this much about sport might have driven me towards being physically fit, but the armchair enthusiasm seems to remain confined to the chair itself. As a result I am technically still eligible to be boxer in the flyweight category. Anyway, recent health concerns finally made me pay attention and realize the dire need for a visit to one of those vanishing island of fitness and health in an
increasingly sedentary world - the gym. Somehow (even I find it difficult to comprehend how!) I have managed to stick around for a month, and actually plan to stick around for longer. The workout is a nice way to relieve stress, and I wouldn't terribly mind not jumping up to a higher boxing weight category. Actually, in all likelihood, I am not jumping categories anytime soon because I have realized one disconcerting truth in the month I have spent there - I suck at gymming! Yes, I am so terrible, I might make the trainer's dog look better if the canine ever showed up for a workout.

Now, now, before you blame my physical shortcomings, let me clarify that I am not exactly unfit; just that my mind wanders whenever I get down to excercising. And a crushing experience in my first gym about 4 years back didn't help either. In the third week, I was supposed to be doing some heavy lifting with the bar bell. The trainer put the bar on its groove above the bench and asked me to lift. Having seen the entire 'Rocky' franchise, I was disappointed that there were no cool loking weights fitted on the bar - it was just the bar alone. I asked the trainer, 'no weights to be put on?' He calmly smiled, 'Let's do the first set with the bar'. The rest is painful personal history. I almost got crushed under the bar's weight (the trainer came to my timely aid, thank heavens) and I never went to a gym again...until early in September this year, that is! This time, I'd decided it would be different and there shall be no 'I-am-so-pathetic-I-can't-even-lift-a-bar-on-its-own' tales to tell (or hide). But the routines kept distratcting me. While doing dumb bell curls, I'd think less about the pressure on my biceps and more about the physics of the equipment. (In my earlier gym, while doing a set of excercises with the dumb bell, my trainer asked 'do you feel the pressure on your triceps?' In all honesty i shot back, 'remind me where the triceps are again!') I am so fascinated by the structure and engineering of the gym equipment, so elegant yet so brillaintly flexible, that the workout feels like a lesson in understanding pulleys and levers and how they direct force and momentum! Sometimes, when I can't seem to go on with the count on say a bench press I try to think myself as Indiana Jones who has to exert all pressure to keep that treasure cave door from closing and failure is not an option. In most those imaginary scenarios Indy gets his foot or hand crushed and the treasure locks itself.

But despite all the pain and the cheating on counts while doing repititions or thoughts that hell must an endless repitition of weight excercises, I am hooked on to the experience. Perhaps, my beginner's spirit(something I mentioned about in an earlier blog) keeps me going. Perhaps the cries of 'Push!' from the trainer have an effect. (I must say, the gym does sound like a maternity ward sometimes, with so many cries of 'Push!Push!' going around!) Or quite simply, there's a little part of me that still believes that I can be Rocky Balboa and fight in the heavyweight category one day. Hey, trainer guy, would you mind putting on 'Eye of the Tiger' on the gym music system right now? :)

P.S. I heartily recommend everyone to weave a workout in their daily schedule; it just too refreshing to miss out on!

STRATEGY, SCHMRATEGY...

I WAS browsing a bookshop the other day, and a new arrival caught my attention. The reason was perhaps less to do with the subject the book was dealing with and more with its timing. With the Champions League Twenty20 tournament around the corner, there lay a book (titled 'Not Just Cricket') released by the Deccan Chargers (2009 IPL Champs) that claimed to talk about the strategy of how losers (last team in the IPL standings in 2008) became winners. Ah, that word again - strategy. Business Schools have made it an artform to drill the drivel called strategic thinking into young mellable minds that can't seem to think for themselves and the epidemic is even more pronounced on the sporting field, regardless of whether you've been (or even
seen the inside of a even so much as a toilet of) in a B-School. Strategy remains a widely touted secret of (random?) success and stats like this one, that one third of all corporate strategies fail (according to a survey done recently by Forbes), are conveniently ignored.

Don't get me wrong here. I have great respect for the Deccan Chargers as a franchise and enjoyed their cricket at the IPL; it's just that I don't think a single swallow makes a summer or a singular piece of success makes for great 'strategy'. In IPL 2009, the Chargers started brightly enough (4 straight wins), but after that they hobbled to a record of 7-7 losing 7 of their last 10 matches (excluding the semis and final, of course). They even lost to the Rajasthan Royals and squeezed into the semis with Mumbai slipping up. With that much of variation, that too in a format that sometimes is akin to a lottery, there is much that can be attributed to chance, and the last I checked, chance and strategy weren't listed as synonyms in the dictionary. But it's not the team's fault. The marketing team obviously thinks selling a book at 700 bucks outlining some nonsensical sliver of a strategy and a few outdated interviews would be a great way to make a quick buck. Just like the current crop of comentators try to justify their raking in the moolah with trite observations and insights
so banal, you might as well have listening to them commentate on a video game. Whether it's Tony Greig ('The batsmen will look at the scoreboard and find out how many runs to get and how many balls to get them in; that's what they look at and try to work it out') who's lost his charm, or Ravi Shastri ('Collingwood loves to play the cut on the offside' - as opposed to the leg side, you mean, Ravi? Ever heard of a leg side cut?) who's lost his keen sense of observation, descriptions of strategy have been reduced to pointless observations which hardly had any meaningful impact on the big picture.

I am currently reading Michael Lewis's bestseller 'Moneyball' which describes how using advanced analytical techniques to find baseball players who are underpriced, Billy Beane, the GM of the Major League Baseball team Oakland Athletics turned his poor team (a payroll that's only about a fifth of the New York Yankees) into a successful franchise. Now, that's some serious strategic thinking, because Beane threw all conventional evaluation methods (scouts looking at a player and rating his ability to making it in the big leagues based on his 'good face' and running abilities, not his stats) out of his Athletics clubhouse window and put computer generated models, which crunched the relevant data, in charge. But that's not it. Beane had the gumption to stick to his guns and carry out his strategy for long enough before the results started to speak for themselves. That's how good strategy works - when it works, the results prove its superiority. And yes, the first year when the A's turned it around and won an astonishing 102 games out of 162, they didn't go ahead and publish a book about the success of their strategy. It was the sheer anomaly of the results and consistency that led an author like Lewis to hunt out the story.

Sun Tzu, whose 'Art of War' is widely quoted by the B-School types (whether they understand the context or not!) had written 'Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.' Coming up with post hoc strategies after some battles have been (unintendedly?) won is exactly what, to paraphrase Bon Jovi, gives the concept of strategy a bad name.

PLANS FOR THE LONG RUN...

AN economist is the last person you'd think of when running, but John Maynard Keynes has been on my mind lately. I am seriously considering extending my running distance and making a dash (well, more like a labored trot by the end of it, anyway) for the half marathon - 21 km. Now, that would be quite a long run and if I recall right, Keynes had said, 'In the long run, we are all dead'. Uh Oh!

Emboldened by my two successful runs over 10km and regular running practice, it is only logical to think of extendinng the distance and making a leap to the next level. The catch? The next 'level' is a 110% jump in distance over my current maximum. Ouch! I am still confident of running the distance, though, just not
confident if I will be standing afterwards. And the other thing that has been bugging is a study that has come out lately suggesting that running long distances may actually be detrimental to cardiac health. So much for running for a healthy heart! “In our study,” say the German researchers who studied 108 marathon runners, “regular marathon running seems not to protect runners” from coronary artery disease. “In fact,” they continued, “we even cannot exclude the possibility that exercise to this degree has deleterious effects on coronary arteries.” Yeah, whatever!

And why should all these petty considerations come in the way of enjoying a bit of a dare anyway. What's life without a few risks? (An insurers dream, if you ask me!) There is a certain sense of rebirth in pushing your body to limits you didn't know existed, feeling spent and then regenerating fresh out of it. I may have said this before, but the 'life force' you feel after a good, long run is incredible! And what about the knee (once I cross 50), the heart (after crossing 40) and the rest of the joints? Well, who really cares. After all, in the long run, we are all dead, anyway!

SEX AND THE CT, AND OTHER CRICKET TALES

I HAD stopped my weekly blog on cricket about three years back but the buzz around the Champions Trophy has blown my veil of a sabbatical from cricket blogging into smithereens. And what a week we've had! Struggling for its own survival, the One Day game has showcased some of the more intriguing contests seen all year, proving quite conclusively that what might kill the ODIs is overexposure and meaninglessness, not the format. Put some needle in the contests and suddenly you have pricked the balloon of apathy. And the upsets did not hurt either!

Having started as two of the weakest teams on paper, New Zealand and England (West Indies were not fielding their first squad) have suddenly upset the equation driving Sri Lanka to the brink of elimination and lettinf South Africa complete the formality of crashing out early of another tournament. The difference has been the approach to the game from these teams. Especially England, who have taken a fresh, positive and exciting view of things yielding great results. Here's a team that had lost 6 straight ODIs and now they have won 3 straight! What a difference a week makes. By the way, their victims include the ICC top ranked ODI team as well as couple of more top 5 scalps. Meanwhile all the hullabaloo about Gary Kirsten's apparent decision to play out his own version of 'Sex and the CT (Champions Trophy!)' throwing out the playbook for the Kamasutra and proposing to swap performance enhancing drugs with Viagra, India's on field concentration has wavered as evident from a disjointed bowling and fielding performance in that big match against Pakistan at Centurion. West Indies, unwittingly reduced to a minnow in a test nation's clothing (they were drubbed 3-0 by Bangladesh - a team not even in the Champions Trophy - at home) have fought hard too, sadly their inexperience caught them out short against the Aussies.

But the moment of the week for me remains one from the India-Pakistan encounter. It was a classic match and had many brilliant moments (Afridi's superb spell, Shoaib Malik's calculated end innings assault, Mohammed Yousuf's calm and fluidly effortless innings) but when Mohammed Aamer bowled a superb delivery to get rid of Sachin Tendulkar having him caught at slip, the beauty of the moment was hard to miss. Here was a teenager who'd just dismissed a master who's been playing the game for a longer time than Aamer's been on this earth! Whether you're an Indian or a Pakistani fan, a supporter of the shorter or the longer format, you cannot but help admire a moment of this sort. It provides you with the perspective of how the game can bring joy to life. The India Pakistan encounter had hype surrounding it because the two teams hadn't clashed since the 26/11 attacks last year. Maybe there's a lesson in there for the ICC. Familiarity has been breeding contempt for the One Day game and remedying that may hold the key to saving the format.

If sex has been the flavour of the week, then here's a bit of advice for the One Day format. Ask anybody and they'll tell you that the secret to great lovemaking is the foreplay. If ODIs are to hold on to their mojo, the audience needs time for that foreplay to sink in.

THIS OLD RUSH!

TIM De Lisle, in a lovely article on Sachin Tendulkar’s recent match winning century at the Compaq Cup final, used the term ‘The Old rush’. Indeed looking at the world of Indian sport this week, it’s quite relevant. Leander Paes won his 10th grand slam and he isn’t exactly a teenager right now and the same is the case with Sachin. Both of them, for Indians, are era defining sportsmen in their respective disciplines. But, personally, my connection with them runs deeper. Since my initiation into watching either cricket or tennis, these have been two names that have been a constant. The sad passing of Michael Jackson this year meant that the music world lost an irreplaceable icon, but it was apssing of an era for me, someone who’d literally grown up knowing only one real pop star. No one, or nothing in the music world will be like that again.

In sport? I won’t even wish to contemplate what it would be like to watch cricket in a Sachin less era, knowing that his flashes of genius and masterclasses of talent will not be seen again. Or who would be an Indian tennis player I can empathize as much with, and get enthused by the burning passion like Leander Paes. Forget about their stats – they are much too good, anyway – what makes them stand out is their constancy. It’s a thrill to see them going great guns, and the only thing I hope for is to be able to enjoy this ‘old rush’ as long as possible and cherish it.

FREELANCE FLINTOFF AND THE FUTURE OF CRICKET

Andrew Flintoff is on his way to becoming the first cricket mercenary after he turned down the ECB’s ODI contract, opting for a freelance role instead. Greame Smith has mentioned in an interview that unless ‘meaningless’ tours are ended, this might become the norm than an exception. The aberration that is Flintoff can well become the standard. What will the ICC do about this? Possibly, nothing. Cricket has been struggling to reconcile the sudden explosion in money making opportunities to the current structure of the game for long. And increasingly, the national format has been losing favour among cricketers and administrators. Rock N’ Roll sold out a long time ago and now it’s the turn of cricket to mortgage its soul to profit mongers. Apparently, one day cricket has become formulaic and tests are still considered the real thing, but nobody seems to want them. Oh yes, a surfeit of anything will sound formulaic; secondly, let’s stop this hypocrisy of calling test matches the ‘real deal’ and yet avoiding them like the plague.

I just read the latest Dan Brown novel, and much as I enjoyed ‘The Da Vinci Code’, I was utterly disappointed to see how a talented writer has decided to stick to the same template (maybe even dumb it down), just for sheer blockbuster success. The ICC, the BCCI and the cricket world seem to be heading in much the same direction. T20 gives an opportunity to cash out and it’s being peppered across the calendar making it more and more crowded. The diminishing marginal utility concept seems to have set in and as a result the One Day game is struggling for survival. In the recent India vs. Sri Lanka final at the Compaq Cup, I watched 25 riveting overs of the Sri Lankan chase as the match hung in balance and it was a brilliant study in tactics and small incidents that shape the destiny of a match. T20 doesn’t give you that pleasure. And if you’re looking for more such encounters, the way forward is less ODIs and not more. Make people hungry for action, not provide them a sensory overload of it.

In a 24/7 internet world everything gets amplified and so have the potential deficiencies in the One Day game (the length, the one sidedness etc.) but with a few tweaks it can still be saved. The solution could be Sachin’s idea of 25-over two innings formats or the 40-Over match but that’s secondary. The primary issue is rationalization of the calendar. Good, quality cricket doesn’t have a mode (T20, Tests or ODI); it flows whenever the top guys in the trade strut their stuff. It’s just that they cant strut it day in, day out all year long.

ENGLAND KICK SOME ASH(ES)

DURING England’s second innings at the final Ashes Test at The Oval, Matt Prior’s drive first smacked into the pitch and then bounced onto Ricky Ponting’s left cheek. In what would have felt like a well connected right hook, Ponting was momentarily dazed, and would have been down for the count if it were a boxing ring. The Aussie captain, being the tough guy he is, did regain his composure and the fact that it was the stroke of lunch helped matters. But there was no such respite for the Australian team, which ignominiously has now lost two successive away Ashes series. Prior’s drive had inflicted its share of pain but its symbolic significance will rattle the most. By the time the dust settled on the Oval pitch (and there was loads of it on a track that crumbled unexpectedly), the Aussies were left to rue their decision of not selecting spinner Nathan Hauritz and despair over their fall to 4th place on the world test rankings, the first time they are not number one since 2003. And there you have it - the Aussie aura and era are over; the aura punctured by the exit of greats whose shoes are too big to fill in the short run and the era closed by teams which seem to have the right mix of spunk and experience to take over the mantle. It would be naïve to imagine no one saw this coming. Even a school kid will tell you that a team that loses players of the caliber and impact of McGrath, Warne, the Waugh brothers, Hayden and Gilchrist in about a half a decade span will have a lot of catching up to do. At different times Michael Clarke, Michael Hussey, Mitchell Johnson and even Brad Haddin have tried to plug the gaps but they could only gallantly delay the inevitable. Schadenfreude would be the order of the day as the cricketing world tries to make sense of the irony of the Ashes defeat – the Aussies were the statistically superior team all through and yet they came up short. It has been a trajectory similar to the West Indies’ decline, plateau and fall through the 90s after the legends like Viv Richards, Malcom Marshall, Desmond Haynes and Gordon Greenidge called it a day.
Australia’s first weakening was the exit of Steve and Mark Waugh, and then Glenn McGrath followed by Shane Warne. The final nail was the exit of Adam Gilchrist and of course, Mathew Hayden. In the meantime, the Aussies held their fort because the support system worked well for the key men left. Clarke and Hussey’s emergence in batting and Ponting’s own solidity masked the absence of a Glichrist or Hayden till the time the bowling was well marshaled and there was a Warne to call on. It was a similar story for the other dominant team, the West Indies, when their batting inadequacies, bar Brian Lara were shored up by the towering achievements of Curtly Ambrose and Courtney Walsh operating in tandem. Once Warne left, and Johnson’s form became more erratic than the Indian monsoon, the weaknesses were exposed far too many times. Starting with the Waugh exits in 2002 (Mark) and 2004 (Steve), the fact that Australia were finally knocked off the pedestal of the No.1 Test team for the first time since then has an eerie foreboding to it.
It’s open season now for the top spot, though it is difficult to argue that the team sitting atop both the Test and ODI rankings is not the best in all forms of the game. South Africa have shown remarkable ability, even in the nascent T20 format and this could be the time to consolidate their gains at the top. The other contender is India, a team whose evolution to a world beater has coincided with Australia’s decline, quite a bit of which has been contributed by them in some of the most hard fought test series ever seen. The meeting of India and South Africa in India in February 2010, then, assumes immense significance. To use the oft abused phrase, the tipping point has arrived and whichever team makes the bold first move can occupy the top spot again. And yes, don’t quite count Australia out of list, just in case.

THE MERSEYSIDER

A DAY TO go before the 2009-10 season of the English Premier League kicks off. And I couldn’t be more excited about the season, mainly because I have high hopes of the team I am backing – Liverpool. When the EPL started being beamed live in India, it had everybody hooked and everyone had their favourite teams. Manchester United, Chelsea, Arsenal and so on. I somehow stuck to Liverpool. My knowledge about English Football was limited to updates from the Gillette World Sport Special and the occasional Bill Shankly quote, and the Merseyside team were at best middling in the premeiership as their aura of the 80s waned. But I liked them. I can’t honestly say I had a reason to, but I developed an affinity to the team.

It’s easy to ride bandwagons in these leagues, back Man U. because they are the winningest team, or Chelsea because they have the best players. I backed Liverpool partly out of chance, and partly out of my admiration for Michael Owen. Ironically, Owen will be seen in a Man U. shirt this season, but his move from Liverpool did not shake my fan roots, because by then I had known a fair bit about the team and each bit cemented my love for the team. Somehow, there was a hypnotic quality about the Hillsboro disaster and the Heysel stadium tragedies that drew me to show solidarity for the fans who paid the ultimate price for the game they loved. Bill Shankly, the legendary manager, is someone you cannot ignore. Liverpool’s achievements in Europe in the 80s and then ‘that’ final in 2005 in Istanbul only added to my ecstatic collection of sports memories of my favourite teams and it was impossible to let go. That a lad named Steven Gerrard, a Liverpool man for life by the looks of it, and the talisman inspiring the team happened to be one of my favourite current footballers just was the perfect icing on the cake. The others also had their story to tell – I thoroughly enjoyed watching Robbie Fowler in action, the quintessential Liverpool player, grinding and fighting hard to keep a rich legacy alive. Though many disagree with a lot of his tactics, I find Rafa Benitez a terrific strategist.

Finally, after watching season upon frustrating season where Liverpool never emerged as serious contenders for the title race, my decade long wait to see Liverpool on top of the table was almost fulfilled in 2008-09 when they had a great run (they had their highest total of points ever in the Premier League-86), only to be outclassed by a better Manchester United. No grudges, but my happiest moment, like I am sure for many others was the 4-1 thrashing of the champs at Old Trafford that Liverpool dealt. It was a rekindling of a love affair which had been going steady and strong but needed that spark of romance to bring it alive again. Perhaps, 2009-10 is the season to set the record straight and get a grip on the Premier League title for the first time. Liverpool has some of the most passionate fans (look at me, I am not a serious ‘fan’ by any qualification, yet my current read is a book on the club, I have ‘You’ll never Walk Alone’ in 5 versions on my iPod, numerous t-shirts, and my phone’s theme is Liverpool as well and of course, I own a DVD of the Istanbul Champions League final!) and it might finally be time for the club to deliver something for the new generation. They have tried in the past, and looking at the transfers in the summer, not too many are giving them a chance. But this is a club that thrives on passion, the only thing that really matters in football, if you ask me.

Aha! Now I’ve cracked the puzzle. It is the passion, or rather the accumulated passion that the club, its heroes, coaches and even the legendary arena – Anfield can stoke is what keeps everybody bound by the Liverpool spirit. After all, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ is the most apt line I can think of. ‘The Beatles’ were four Liverpool kids, and I have a t-shirt that alludes to that link. It says ‘All you need is Liverpool FC’. Sometimes, when you’re looking for passion and inspiration, it is true that you might just find it in your favourite football club. No matter what happens in the 09-10 season and beyond, I will be a Liverpool fan, a merseysider, for life!

WHAT SRK'S DAUGHTER TAUGHT ME ABOUT TRIVIA

THE PAST few weeks, I have been swept up in a storm of dealing with trivia. It was a tryst with the other kind of mindsport (I wrote about puzzles and the like on this blog a few months back), as I researched and fact checked and dug up questions to ask in Dare 2009, the IIPM and 4Ps Business and Marketing Quiz, the finals of which were superbly hosted by none other than Shahrukh Khan. He was at his charming, witty, entertaining and cheeky best lighting up the Saturday afternoon of August 1, but I digress. I want to talk about trivia and quizzing, something that has had me hooked since my General Knowledge classes in Standard IV. But what exactly draws us to trivia? And is trivia really knowledge? The two books I have read on the subject recently happen to think so. Ken Jennings' 'Brainiac' and Mark Mason's 'The Importance of Being Trivial' are terrific texts if you are looking for the context of trivia and the whole sport of quizzing, whether in a pub or on an American television game show (Jennings was a contestant on 'Jeopardy' where he won a record number of times).

But personally, what does it give us? Well, I had a fulfilling time researching questions because it opened vistas unknown to me. More interestingly, I was drawn towards newer subjects and issues as I hunted for material, often serendipitiously as I hopped from one website or book to another. Where our sense of wonder about all that's around us and the delightful experience of a serendipitious revealtation meet, I think that's trivia. It may not be 100% useful all the time (does it really help to know that Baskin Robbins was the
first ice cream consumed in space?) but it perhaps reinforces the existence of your inquisitive gene - without which I think you're better off dead than alive. And, although I use mostly empirical evidence here, most people with heightened inquisitiveness often go far. Don't get me wrong here; I am not a quizzing geek. And, I am sorry to say this, but I despise those trivia geeks and quizzers who seem to know all the 'facts' without a
disposition for learning. I have seen it happen before. When the 'Kaun Banega Crorepati' swept the country, suddenly an entire nation (not to mention a whole bunch of relatives who seemed least bit interested in 'knowledge' before the mention of Rs. 10,000,000 as prize money) wanted to find out what the currency of Mongolia was. They would gobble up facts like a marathon runner would gobble up carbs a day before his race.

But that's where I'd like to present a counter argument. Quizzing is not a sport where a burst of activity and frentic 'training' can get you success. It has a lot to do with your state of mind, and your attitude towards learning. In the Dare finals, Shah Rukh asked one of the teams, 'What is the full form of MAC, the famous cosmetics company?' The teams (the best six, filtered from 200 odd worthy contenders, mind you) didn't have an answer. Mr. Khan passed it on to the audience, and the 600 odd people seemed clueless as well! I knew the answer, but that's only because I had set that question. Otherwise, don't even expect me to know that MAC is cosmetics brand, let alone its expansion. But the silence was broken by a little girl's voice who shouted out 'Make Up Art and Cosmetics'! The correct answer! That's exactly the moment trivia lovers live for. The girl was Shah Rukh's daughter Suhana, and I have no idea how she knew the answer. But she did! And once again, what I believe about trivia was reinforced - knowledge can belong to anybody who's curious enough. And I am sure Suhana's curiosity had a big say in that answer. Surely, she may have seen many MAC products, but how many 6 year olds would look for the expansion of that name? Next time you are at a pub attending a quiz, or on a game show about to land a big prize, or just challenging a friend to a fact, remember that its not only about what the answer is, but how you got to the answer that should delight you the most.

THE DOPE ON DOPE TESTING

MAJOR LEAGUE Baseball in the United States, the nation's favourite pastime has suffered numerous blows when various doping scandals hit the sport, none more crushing than the Barry Bonds affair. Bonds, whose record of most home runs ever in baseball stands tainted because of that, was only the tip of a dirty iceberg as it now transpires. In cycling, doping has threatened to overshadow the Tour De France, Lance Armstrong and a lot of other teams and riders (Team Festina's ban and the mysterious death of rider Marco Pantani still rattle fans). Track and field has had its high profile disgraces as well (anyone remember Marion Jones?). Italian football clubs (notably Juventus, AC Milan and the like) have been notorious for having pharma stocks more varied and voluminous than a general hospital.

In this air of corruptibility that shrouds modern competitive sport, surely the World Anti Doping Agency (WADA) isn't asking for too much if it wants to test cricketers as well. The BCCI's petulant reaction of not agreeing to sign on a dotted line where all FIFA players, as well as cricketers from other countries have signed once again underlines its role as an ugly bully in world cricket. Strangely, as a country, we seem to be backing them and our cricketers in calling for respecting their privacy and security concern. Pardon my language, but that's a lot of horse manure, if you ask me. Cricketers, especially of the Indian variety, have of late started behaving as if they were born with a silver spoon in their mouths, or as in this doping case, a silver needle on their arm. If the WADA had any other way of making sports drug free ('Remember kids, only losers don't drugs' is what pro sports seems all about these days!) it would have, but the demands of our time and scandals that have fermented because of it (see above) have left it no choice but to solidify the policing. If a common citizen has to subject himself to frisking and metal detectors from schools to shopping malls, its unfathomable why a cricketer can't take a while off their 'busy' off season for a simple test. And if anyone thought cricket was immune to the temptation of 'performance enhancement', look no further than Mohammed Asif and Shoaib Akhtar.

I doubt WADA's strict testing will continue forever; its simple economics that the incentive to cheat will srop drastically if the system is firmly held in place long enough. But for that to happen, compliance without compromise is the keyword. And if you really idolize your cricket players, and consider them models for good behaviour, I suggest not wearing the seatbelt or the helmet as a show of solidarity. Meanwhile, I just hope our cricketers are good at urinating in a cup!

NEVER FORGET YOUR BEGINNERS SPIRIT!

THE BIKE above belongs to Lance Armstrong, the man who just finished third in the Tour De France. Of course, his story of inspiration is well known - man rides a bike; man diagnosed with cancer, given low survival chances; man fights and fights and fights and returns to the most gruelling event in his sport (actually, any sport); man wins the event in 1999, just three years since the diagnosis; and as of that's not enough, man wins it for the next 6 times for good measure; man retires and returns four years later to compete as one of the oldest riders and still ends on the podium.

But this is not about Lance Armstrong's show at the Tour De France; it is about the fact how the line across his crossbar on the bike in the picture should be a guiding principle everybody should take up. Everyday, I see far too many (sometimes, mine included) faces worn out by the worries of the world, the childlike aura that I am sure emanates from all of us diminishes or disappears. It is a shame when it does, because that is when we lose the love we have for life. For me, sport has always been an outlet to celebrate life and remind myself how lucky I am to be alive. Watching sport is just an extension of that. And the last couple of weeks two unlikely heroes - Lance at the Tour De France and Tom Watson at the British Open have reinforced that exhilaration. Granted, both didn't win (Tom Watson finished runners up to Stewart Cink after losing the playoff; Lance of course finished third behind his teammate Alberto Contador who won) but that's not why I was watching them, or getting inspired. They were 'old' participants showing the younger ones just how its done, and proving that 'age is just a number'. There was a Pullela Gopichand dispensing advice to the shining and rising Saina Nehwal about staying off endorsements. He was pretty unequivocal that badminton is a sport that requires immense concentration and fitness and he did not want Saina doing anything to jeopardize that. Saina seemed more than happy to take the advice. And that was another lesson - never lose sight of what's a priority.

It's simple; if you lose sight of how exciting everything felt when you were a beginner - relationships, jobs, projects - your spirit more likely than not will falter. That's perhaps why Lance has that line there to look at when he is at the toughest climb on Mount Ventoux, and that's why I hope Saina Nehwal holds on to that spirit to bring India glory and that's why perhaps Tom Watson will come back at the British Open to keep rocking. When I go for a run every morning, the longest distance mostly is between the bed and the floor. To keep myself going, I always imagine the exhilaration that I experienced when I went for the run the first time. Amazingly, it works every morning! The next time worries grow heavy around you, please try to remember how it felt when you were a beginner - the enthusiasm, the excitement and the energy. And believe me, the life force will come flodding back to you. See it Lance's way - never forget the beginner's spirit.

P.S. - The beginners spirit is exactly what I'd like to keep going as Get Sporty moves to a new home and we start a new journey. The enthusiasm with which I have brought to you my take on all things sporting - universal and personal - will remain the same. Hopefully, your support will always be there as a guiding light!