IPL's Calling...Where Are You?

You are lucky. All of you, who are reading this right now are lord-be-darned lucky. You are lucky because you are only getting to read the contents which the author has typed out here - you aren't seeing the author himself. For those who want to know, the author is in a super excited state of being. He has donned an animated avatar. He is pacing back and forth, he is jumping up and down. He is unable to park even half a bum on a chair for a millisecond. He is shouting, he is laughing, he is cursing, he is chanting. He is hyperventilating. His adrenaline is pumped up to dizzying levels, he has generated enough amount of testosterone and estrogen to supply for the whole neighborhood. He is over-the-moon, over-the-sun, over-the-solar-system. The delirious author is doing an excited dance of the jingalala genre around his TV set, wearing nothing but a banana leaf and a matching bikini top. You are lucky you don't get to see the author right now. You only get to see what he has typed out.

Gljsdojfouflmdioaufeqjroiufsdlkjfajfeljraidfoiueriudflajfulwejlhalgjrkjehg. What the... Whoa! I mean, did you just see that? His excitement has reached such a feverish pitch that he doesn't have conscious control of even his keystrokes now. What the heck is wrong with the author? What's got him all happy, excited and delirious?. Nope he has not had cocaine for lunch, he is on a diet you see- so it can't be about dope. Nope he hasn't hired Paris Hilton to do a lap dance for him- so its not about girlfriends. Nope he has not got a multi-million dollar pay hike, his house is still built of bricks and not from money bags- so it can't be about money. Nope, he hasn't replaced Bill Gates at Microsoft or for that matter Hugh Hefner at Playboy- so its not about a new dream job. Nope he hasn't got a shiny new Ferrari for free...his garage still houses a sputtering old Ambassador 1879 model, with the paint peeled off and engine thrown away- so its not about cars. Nope, neither McDonald's nor the Oberoi Intercontinental has offered to supply abundant complimentary food for him daily... he is still eating out of roadside thrash cans- so it can't be about food.


Hmmm...lets pause and recap for a moment here. Dope? Check. Women? Check. Sex? Check. Money? Check. Hi-fi job? Check. Swanky cars? Check. Food? Check. What else can get an average urbane Indian bachelor male so excited? What are we leaving out? What are we forgetting here? Come on, lets think... drum fingers on the desks, doodle invisible thoughts in the brain, think hard... what is missing? Unless, oh dear, but of course, why didn't we remember that earlier? *Boink Boink Boink* - lets slap our foreheads thrice as punishment. There is C.R.I.C.K.E.T, amigos! The game! Ok, so what about cricket now, are they showing a test match between Scotland and Ethiopia on TV ? Hmmm.. not really. Unless, oh dear, but of course... *Patak Patak Patak*- lets slam our foreheads against the nearest wall three times as punishment. Why didn't we remember that earlier? There's the IPL on. What you don't know what the IPL is? You don't? *Thwack Thwack Thwack,* slap yourselves three times- twice on your face and once on your buttocks as punishment. The IPL is the Indian Premier League. The cricket version of the Super-Bowl. A hyper exciting brand of cricket. The 20 over –a- piece extravaganza. The razzmatazz which gets the cricket crazy nomads all nippy and excited. So now we know- that’s what's got the author so excited. We've found out. There...now Sherlock Holmes can rest in peace.

Ladies and Gentlemen, ever since the IPL T20’s kicked off, I’ve been hooked. Of course, Season 2 has got off to a relatively rustic, yawning start, but I am optimistic that it is no indication of what’s in store in the coming weeks. For the uninitiated, this year is the second season of IPL and hence called IPL2. Last year was the first season of IPL and hence was called IPL1. See my math, ain’t I better than Aryabhatta? IPL1 was held in India. It was a roaring success. IPL2 is being held in South Africa. One hopes it will be at least a meowing success. IPL2 had to be exported to South Africa because the Govt. couldn’t ensure the security of the event if it were to be held in India. Fair enough. After all, the IPL2 clashed with another titanic soap opera called the General Elections. The Govt. told the IPL babus that it was more important to use your fingers to press buttons on the voting machine than use them to spin a doosra or count currency notes. “No security, no IPL, nothing doing, go cry to your mama” said the Government. Also, it was rumored that some of the team owners were reluctant to field their precious players in the blazing Indian summer because there wasn’t enough sunscreen lotion around. Well the smart IPL babus, amid desperation and simmering public anger, shifted the event into the first nation that offered to host it – South Africa. That is a shame, because when it comes to passionate following, crowd frenzy and media hype, nothing can match cricket in India. But, with the aforementioned situation on our hands, we cricket lovers were virtually told that we had only two options before us:
1) Watch the cricket out of South Africa.
2) Or spend your time picking lint out of your belly-buttons.

Option 1) was unanimously chosen, and boy was I glad. After all, it is the cricket that matters to us fanatics – the show had to go on and if it had to find a new stage in South Africa, then so be it.


(I'd rather watch Ashish Nehra bat than watch no cricket at all)

The IPL babus should count their lucky stars that South Africa came to their rescue. I’m sure with the amount of money invested in IPL, the organizers would have been desperate to host the tournament even in Antarctica or Somalia for that regard. In fact, rumors have it that they considered these two places to host the game, before South Africa appeared on their radar. Unfortunately, amid much reluctance, they had to rule out Antarctica as a hosting venue because the penguins went on hunger strike and the polar bears took out protest marches against hosting the event on their land. This implied that at least 50% of the potential on-field spectators were ruled out from participation. Then there was the issue of conflict of sponsors’ interests – they wanted iced tea, chilled Coke and vanilla chocobar sundaes to be advertised in Antarctica, which for some strange reason found no takers. And then there was the problem with cheerleaders – I mean who would have liked to see them dancing around in woolen pullovers, stocky trousers, leather overalls, thick sweaters, thicker gloves, mufflers and thermal panties? These issues ensured that Antarctica was out of reckoning as a potential host, even though the conditions for cricket was ‘perfect ‘. (Hey c’mon I’m sure the ice covered pitches would have possibly assisted good seam bowling) .

And then there was the second potential host – Somalia. I’m sure Somalia would have been great, but unfortunately the event couldn’t be staged there because the pirates threatened to kidnap Mandira Bedi! In hindsight, I think it would’ve been a really good thing had the Somali pirates kidnapped Mandira Bedi. I mean, the advantage would have been two-pronged. 1) The TV audience would have been spared of her apathetic cricketing knowledge and abysmal presentation skills. 2) Who knows, the pirates could have as well learnt some cricket from her. Ha ha ha ha… now that is funny… learning cricket from Mandira Bedi, ha ha ha… I’m sure the pirates would have rather preferred to jump into the sea than let such a day dawn upon them. Ha ha ha ha… Ok, so all in all, South Africa was the chosen venue for IPL2. Not bad at all.

(Presenting - The Numero Uno cricketer - Mandira Bedi!!)

You see people often wonder what the fuss is all about. What’s the big deal about T20, they ask. Why go ga -ga over it? Traditional cricket lovers have often sniggered at and chastised the T20 format as prostitution of cricket. “Slam-bang-thank you ma’m cricket” are their precise words. One of my friend’s grandfather, who is 186 years old, and an avid Test match lover, often tells me how watching IPL saddens his soul and rips the pacemaker in his heart apart. “Test cricket is real cricket. What is this IPL-BPL or whatever” he says. I agree when people accord the highest respect to Test matches. The Test format deserves all of it – it is still the purest form of cricket and the ultimate test of your cricketing skills. Make no mistake, I am a passionate Test match lover too – I always apply kilograms of super-glue to my ample posterior and park them firmly on the couch, while watching a Test match for all of its five days on TV. But I certainly take umbrage at the purists for according disrespect to the T20 format. T20 is a different game, it has a different charm. You see the primary, number one attraction about IPL T20 is kinky cheerleaders in skimpy outfits the fast and furious nature of the game itself. Twenty overs a piece, the batsman going hammer and tongs at everything thrown at them, the bowlers bowling their guts out, the power-packed shots, the switch hits, the paddle sweeps, no balls going for free hits, frequent toe-crushing yorkers, the screaming crowds, the dancing girls… it’s all there. And its all over in three and half hours. It goes without saying that the color, the entertainment, and the adrenaline rush offered by the T20 is unparalleled elsewhere. So what is my unsolicited advice here? – don’t try to mix up or compare the two formats of the game. Learn to enjoy both of them, in the way it is meant to be enjoyed. Enjoy Test cricket sipping a glass of wine and enjoy T20 by dousing yourself with beer. That’s exactly what I do – well, I douse myself with water instead, as I am teetotaler, but I nevertheless am charged as a bull while watching IPL T20.

Thank you IPL, thank you T20, for bringing in a splash of vibgyor to my otherwise monochromatic life.

Have a great time folks!

Love,

Parry.

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Note:

1) The IPL has not paid me to write this post. Pay?... ha ha ha.... my own employer is reluctant to pay me, toh IPL kya ghanta pay karega?

2) Coming up in my next post: IPL, Cricket Widows and Workaholic Bosses.

3) Today is the one and only Sachin Tendulkar's birthday. I salute you, master. Wish you a very happy birthday.

4) Talking of IPL, this blog called Fake IPL player is generating tremendous buzz and apparently, has been authored by an insider from an IPL team camp. Authentic or not, this blog is providing some absolute rib-tickling fun.