It's a refreshing day today in Karachi. It's been cold for the majority of the tour, very similar to how I left Delhi. For a change, I just did a morning live shot with hardly any layers on, one to be exact.
And also, after a while, there's a buzz surrounding this game. Lots of speculation about players, pitch conditions and all the spicy things that make reporting a game of pure kite flying but yet compelling and drama-like that you actually feel like you're doing something important. I'm not disillusioned or upset with my kind or my field, it's just that it's the truth. I mean think about it, people love reality tv these days. I mean, the Osbournes are a household name only because everyone wants to know what Ozzy puts on his pancakes. I'm not sure if people percieve their lives as too boring or if there's a genuine interest in what goes on behind famous closed doors.
It's almost an extension, what we do, this fascination with whether Sourav Ganguly is a targeted man or if there's really truth in another rumour about Sachin Tendulkar's elbow. The fact of the matter is, often enough, we journalists know as much about the rumour or tale as reader or viewer. Television sports journalists (will not want to smear the political, business and entertainment beat) such as yours truly are self-admitedly notorious for sometimes going on air with information that is half confirmed at best or at worst, factually inaccurate and unverified. But it sells, and public memory is only as long as camera flash, so nothing you say can really come back to bite you in the as*. I've screwed a few times on air, and I'll challenge most people who saw that broadcast to tell me those instances and call me out. Chances are, no one remembers (might have something to do with my un-memorable manner) but yet, the point being, for the most part, I won't be caught for a dropped catch.
Here in Pakistan, it's a little strange because I'm so isolated from what's going on in India. Like Rahul Dravid (no, not name dropping!) keeps saying, 'I'm in a cuccoon here... I don't hear anything and don't want to... that's the best part about touring, I can just focus on the cricket...' Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of not wanting to hear anything, because it positively affects my bottom line...
So, we try to stay keyed in and get the dope we can... and yet, miss out occassionaly, and sometimes hit jackpot... but that's like anything we do, so why should reporting be any different...
Gosh, I was such a worry-free boy only a few years ago, not having to worry about keeping a track about myself, let alone about an entire religion (I'm talking about cricket of course)...
And Irfan Pathan's just achieved a hatrick in his first over, and there's already talk about the test match wrapping up early... but what can we do, speculate of course, and worry about whether anything I use to test the waters will ever hold it. But for now, it's a really nice day in Karachi...
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
In Pakistan: No one's a loser anymore
So cricket, the game I have rediscovered in the past few days, is gloriously uncertain, or so I've been told. And yes, I've seen frequent examples of shifting fortunes and the tables turning in a matter of minutes. Similar to that other amazing sport, football.
But when does sport become non-competitive... In theory, in definition, it can't. Intrinsically, someone has to lose and someone has to win... but what do you do when the way a game is played doesn't necessarily allow you to do that? It's not such a simple answer. You could for instance, attempt to claim a moral victory. Score a last minute equaliser, and a team could claim to have won a match, everyone thought they had lost. Even though the score might be 1-1, there's something to be said for snatching victory (or a draw in this case) from the jaws of defeat. And that, many might consider the thrill of sport.
As a spectator, and an as ardent cricket and football (read Manchester United and England) fan, there's a certain amount of pride in watching, my team (be it India, MU, or England) fight back after they've had their backs to the wall. It displays a certain amount of character, a resilient quality that we're likely to admire almost anywhere. So, that perhaps might be a reason to fall in love with a team that doesn't give up (although Team India has self-decapitated on innumerable occasions in the past, this current one might have some spunk).
So, what does that say about the teams that win all the time (read Chelsea, Brazil, Australia). Simply that they don't know how to lose. Put them in a situation where they're supposed to have their backs to the wall, and they probably won't even know that they do. Do they compete? Yes, but only in the sense of obliterating an opponent that has to be crushed and demoralised completely. So, that the next time they raise their heads, it'll only be to match a respectful gaze.
I don't know if any of this makes sense. I don't even know why I started writing this in the first place... but I guess, I'm just trying to say that sometimes you don't have to win to be a winner and a draw doesn't always make you an equal, it just might mean that you decide to become a winner but just a tad too late...
But when does sport become non-competitive... In theory, in definition, it can't. Intrinsically, someone has to lose and someone has to win... but what do you do when the way a game is played doesn't necessarily allow you to do that? It's not such a simple answer. You could for instance, attempt to claim a moral victory. Score a last minute equaliser, and a team could claim to have won a match, everyone thought they had lost. Even though the score might be 1-1, there's something to be said for snatching victory (or a draw in this case) from the jaws of defeat. And that, many might consider the thrill of sport.
As a spectator, and an as ardent cricket and football (read Manchester United and England) fan, there's a certain amount of pride in watching, my team (be it India, MU, or England) fight back after they've had their backs to the wall. It displays a certain amount of character, a resilient quality that we're likely to admire almost anywhere. So, that perhaps might be a reason to fall in love with a team that doesn't give up (although Team India has self-decapitated on innumerable occasions in the past, this current one might have some spunk).
So, what does that say about the teams that win all the time (read Chelsea, Brazil, Australia). Simply that they don't know how to lose. Put them in a situation where they're supposed to have their backs to the wall, and they probably won't even know that they do. Do they compete? Yes, but only in the sense of obliterating an opponent that has to be crushed and demoralised completely. So, that the next time they raise their heads, it'll only be to match a respectful gaze.
I don't know if any of this makes sense. I don't even know why I started writing this in the first place... but I guess, I'm just trying to say that sometimes you don't have to win to be a winner and a draw doesn't always make you an equal, it just might mean that you decide to become a winner but just a tad too late...
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
In Pakistan: Re-romancing the sport
Cricket is to me what algae are to the fungi in lichens. It's a part of me that I cannot deny, and that I couldn't live without. It's a romance that had faded but as I watch a series that has to be a let down in terms of excitement, I find my self falling in love all over again. It might be the way I'm living my life these days. Enjoying every moment, each a thrill all its own.
I've never really been into bare facts and figures and can't honestly quote freely who had the highest score in the 2nd test India played versus Australia in 2004.
I guess as a sports journalist I should, but the bare truth is that I don't. I've never been into the details of the sport from a sense that I cannot tell you how many balls MS Dhoni took to make his 148 at the Iqbal Stadium in the second test in Pakistan in 2006. And while I was in raptures watching every ball of the Jharkhandi's knock, I honestly would prefer to leave the stats and the number crunching to those who do it best. Sure, it's a job that must be done. And of course, someone's got to do it. But not me.
To draw a silly parallel, it's like life. Enjoying the Dhoni innings in every way, was for me an experience very much on the lines of soaking in the bigger picture. The details are important but only in a peripheral sort of way. It's the details that make up the bigger picture, and it's always the wider perspective that gives us a real satisfaction. I mean sure, a good sentence might stick out from a book, but if the book didn't give you the sort of stimulation you wanted from it, you're chances of remembering that line are rather slim. It's the same way with pretty much everything else in life, at least as far as I'm concerned. The bigger picture always trumps. So, on any given day and twice on Wednesday ('coz it's media night at TC's...), not for me the eternal joy of realising that a record is about to be broken... give me the thrill of watching the ball sail over the ropes anytime!
I've never really been into bare facts and figures and can't honestly quote freely who had the highest score in the 2nd test India played versus Australia in 2004.
I guess as a sports journalist I should, but the bare truth is that I don't. I've never been into the details of the sport from a sense that I cannot tell you how many balls MS Dhoni took to make his 148 at the Iqbal Stadium in the second test in Pakistan in 2006. And while I was in raptures watching every ball of the Jharkhandi's knock, I honestly would prefer to leave the stats and the number crunching to those who do it best. Sure, it's a job that must be done. And of course, someone's got to do it. But not me.
To draw a silly parallel, it's like life. Enjoying the Dhoni innings in every way, was for me an experience very much on the lines of soaking in the bigger picture. The details are important but only in a peripheral sort of way. It's the details that make up the bigger picture, and it's always the wider perspective that gives us a real satisfaction. I mean sure, a good sentence might stick out from a book, but if the book didn't give you the sort of stimulation you wanted from it, you're chances of remembering that line are rather slim. It's the same way with pretty much everything else in life, at least as far as I'm concerned. The bigger picture always trumps. So, on any given day and twice on Wednesday ('coz it's media night at TC's...), not for me the eternal joy of realising that a record is about to be broken... give me the thrill of watching the ball sail over the ropes anytime!
Breathing in smoke in Pakistan
It's taken me a while to actually get to this stage. I'd decided to get to this, a while back, but then there's usually been a slip between the cup and the lip... in this case, it was more like, I just forgot the cup was waiting to be sipped. Well, the coffee (or tea) didn't quite lose it's warmth, so I decided to go ahead and taste it anyway.To explain the title of this post, I'm actually in Pakistan, sitting in a press box, watching the second test between India and Pakistan in a city (actually a village masquerading as a city) called Faisalabad. It's about a couple of hours west of Lahore, and isn't really much to offer besides a few textile plants.
Perhaps, the most surreal part of all of this is that, the last time this happened (when India were here), I was in the US covering how the NRIs and NRPs are following every minute of the action, regardless of time of day. And right now, I'm sitting here watching Rahul Dravid caress Abdur Razzaq through the covers. It's quite something. I can honestly say that I am sometimes overawed with how close to the action I've had an opportunity to get. And what baffles me even more is that I'm here, which means that people back home are probably (being the operative word) listening to what I have to say about Inzy's back or about the pitch or about just anything I want to feed them. And I'd like to think I do a semi-decent job of it... but that I guess only time will tell...
Time will tell me a lot of things... the days in Pakistan have told me a few things for sure, that life isn't always about trying to shut out your past or it doesn't necessarily mean that what's happened before is all bad... it's just that whatever is happening in the now, in the present, is so precious, it's quite literally worth immersing yourself (in a very John the Baptist sort of way) for the moment itself. Life is now. Life is today. Life is this full stop that's about to follow. Not this one. This one.
Perhaps, the most surreal part of all of this is that, the last time this happened (when India were here), I was in the US covering how the NRIs and NRPs are following every minute of the action, regardless of time of day. And right now, I'm sitting here watching Rahul Dravid caress Abdur Razzaq through the covers. It's quite something. I can honestly say that I am sometimes overawed with how close to the action I've had an opportunity to get. And what baffles me even more is that I'm here, which means that people back home are probably (being the operative word) listening to what I have to say about Inzy's back or about the pitch or about just anything I want to feed them. And I'd like to think I do a semi-decent job of it... but that I guess only time will tell...
Time will tell me a lot of things... the days in Pakistan have told me a few things for sure, that life isn't always about trying to shut out your past or it doesn't necessarily mean that what's happened before is all bad... it's just that whatever is happening in the now, in the present, is so precious, it's quite literally worth immersing yourself (in a very John the Baptist sort of way) for the moment itself. Life is now. Life is today. Life is this full stop that's about to follow. Not this one. This one.
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