Cricket: At the Movies With Tendulkar, Lalit Modi, and Galileo
Watching the India-Bangladesh series was like watching a seriously long action movie whose end was very predictable.
It began like a little thriller, where the bad guys outwit the good guys after the good guys make some sneaky comment about them. But then enters the hero with the rock background music, who destroys the bad guys single-handedly.
Then slowly, the other guys begin rising up, and the good guys decimate the bad guys and everything seems fine.
But then there are some serious casualties. The bad guys chop off somebody's finger and shoot another one in the jaw. This is getting serious.
The bad guys take an unprecedented stand and start attacking Team Good. But from nowhere the supporting actor comes in and picks up the Oscar.
Predictable. You leave with a smile but at the same time your irritating-but-somehow-always-correct subconsciousness says, "If you knew what was gonna happen, then why the hell did you watch it?!"
For the first time in my life I was looking forward to another movie right after watching one. This one was called the IPL auction.
It promised me everything! Drama, some comic relief, tension and of course, controversy.
The action began right at the beginning. Some guy, who wore his spectacles so low that he could get a glimpse of his brain through his nose, picked up a really tiny bat which had SHAHID AFRIDI perfectly engraved on it.
He politely asked whether anyone wanted to purchase the very expensive bat but the team owners sitting there looked at each other as if he had just picked up Afridi's head and not his name tag.
Nobody spoke, moved or even passed wind. This happened every time a Pakistani player's name was picked from the fluffy bag. Pakistan was outraged by this!
But I felt pity for the man who engraved those names on the bats. How his hands must be shaking now..
Personally, I wanted the Pakistanis to play. Now we won't get to see Afridi's blasting, Asif's Skywalker arm, Tanvir's action, or Kamran Akmal's introductory message before he comes out to bat.
This year's IPL will miss the zing the first one had, very much like how the second one missed it. Most teams will be too sad to play without their Pakistan-made entertainment. They'll all be with serious faces and the IPL will become more of a courtroom drama.
Except for my team, of course. Mumbai Indians never had any Pakistani players, so its safe to say, the Little Master will be lifting the title this season.
But what I'm really dancing about is the upcoming World Test Championship series. The one, which was decided after India realised they wouldn't be playing a test match in the next fifty thousand years, even after becoming numero uno.
I was in knots trying to guess who would win. Of course my heart said India, but my mind said "Ja, these South African's have the firepower to do it in India. Remember, 74?".
Then the pendulum swung towards the South Africans. The Great Wall (the one which cannot be seen from the moon. Then again, I haven't been to the moon) Rahul Dravid shattered his mouth. No more Mach power for him.
And the Wristy One VVS Laxman, yes the one who loves the Aussies so much that they are scared of attacking him and attack innocent Kamran Akmal instead, broke his finger.
And of course, Cricket's prodigal son (why do they call him that? What does it even mean?) Sreesanth also injured himself. The media said that was a good thing, but they failed to specify for which team.
South Africa would surely win.
Then the next day I heard, the coach of South Africa walked off and the selection committee had been kicked out.
The pendulum had swung towards India again and amazingly stayed there, but then the news of Dhoni's possible absence came in.
The pendulum started swinging back and forth again. Somewhere, Galileo's grave saw a slight increase in mass.
Good promos, meaty controversies and superb actors. My 'Movies to Watch' list is complete.
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