IPL, Cricket Widows and Workaholic Bosses

Statutory Warning : This is a pretty long post. You are advised to plan your bathroom breaks in advance.

Greetings, dear Earthlings

As promised, I am back with the sequel to my previous post. Sorry for the long delay in uploading this post… I hope you were not wondering if I had vanished into thin air or fallen off the face of Earth ( you really wish that had happened? Yes? Oh you bad people) . One of the feeble excuses that I can offer to justify the delay in posting, is the IPL itself. You see, my work keeps me busy in the mornings, lunch and the subsequent naps inside the cubicle walls keep me busy in the afternoons, the IPL keeps me busy in the evenings and my trainee watchman duty keeps me awake and busy at night. Hey, by the way, did I tell you that I am training to be a watchman at the neighbourhood factory gates? Just in case the recession nips my techie job away, I can at least ensure employment by signing up for the attractive job as a night-watchman in that factory. And being a man with a remarkable degree of self-awareness, I know that I am very well qualified for the job of a watchman. I am rigorously participating in the pre-employment training. The training curriculum for the post of a gate watchman, includes:

• Juggling and balancing an ill-fitting ‘topi’ on top of my head.
• Wielding a ‘lathi’ that is as strong as a tooth-pick.
• Chasing noisy street dogs away - the ones which utter more than 10bps (10 bow-bows per second) .
• Dozing off in an upright sitting position.
• Saying ‘Salom shaab’ , without giggling, and in a perfect accent.

I have my alternate profession all planned out, folks. See, I am a busy man with a busy 24/7 schedule. So from where do you think can I carve out time to pen blogs huh? *Sigh* Alright alright, I suck at giving excuses don’t I? Well people, the real reason for the delay in posting is that I simply couldn’t bring my lazy bum to the computer and type. Now that all three of us – myself, my bum and my computer – are in perfect harmony, I have the promised blogpost ready to be uploaded. In hindsight, my inability to come up with proper, believable excuses is a real worry, I must confess. In another three years, I’ll be a married man, and by then if I don’t have the skill to dish out proper excuses, then it is guaranteed that my life will be miserable. But lets worry about that another day shall we?… I mean why look ahead and worry about contracepting the future when you’re being fucked by the present. OK folks, enough said. Lets move on from useless nonsense to useful nonsense.

The IPL… ah what an absorbing affair is it turning out to be. At the time of writing this, we are into the second phase of the tournament. The contest is split wide open, predictions are going haywire and it’s a free for all. It seems to be anybody’s guess as to which four teams would line up to face each other in the semis. Given the unpredictable nature of the game and the inconsistent form of the teams, it is going to be a real tough guess to hazard. Heck! I’m sure guessing Shilpa Shetty’s real age would be an easier task than speculating on the semi-final line-up of IPL2. My favorite team Rajasthan Royals, lead by an extremely passionate man, is continuing to surge forward, even though they don’t have a reigning superstar in their lineup. The Royal Challengers Bangalore team, who until a few days back looked destined to graze the grasses at the bottom of the table, are now looking to be a contender for a semi-final spot. Honestly many a Bangalorean had given up on this team- me included. Many of us had felt that under Mallya’s tutelage, the Royal Challenger boys would have made better bartenders than cricket players. But hey presto! now they’ve surprised everybody with three wins on the trot. Bring on more action, baby, I’m loving it.

OK. Now all said and done, it should be realized that not everybody is a fan of IPL or T20 or why, even the game of cricket. This blog is written by me, a cricket fanatic, and read by you, who could possibly be a cricket fanatic. But the world does not comprise of just you and me, my friend. The world also comprises of people who hate cricket… you know, the kind of people who equate cricket with rat plague and absolutely abhor the sight of bat hitting ball. Surely some of those people may be reading this blog and nodding their heads in approval and acknowledgement. It is important that in this busy IPL season, we cricket fanatics should respect the presence of non-cricket watching public and not disregard their very existence on the planet. However, avoiding the non-cricket watchers is easier said than done, particular when they happen to be in your family or friend/acquaintance circle. For a cricket fanatic, for whom watching the game on TV during the game's peak season is his sole reason for existence, having to deal with the non cricket watching types can be a real pain in the neck and obstruct his viewing pleasure. Chime the bells and blow the bugles, because now I will introduce you two categories of such 'cricket obstructers' - Cricket Widows and Workaholic Bosses.

Cricket Widow : Definition (derived from the Web) : A cricket widow is basically a woman involved in a relationship with a male cricket fanatic who pays more attention to the game than to their female partner, during the sport’s season of play. Cricket widows (usually wives or girlfriends) usually have little or absolutely no interest in cricket themselves. The cricket widow simply does not understand the madness which overcomes their male partners during a cricket match.

Make no mistake, the husband or BF is not a heartless man from Old Stone Age.. he is usually a very doting partner. But it so happens that with the cricket season in full-swing, the game takes precedence for him over everything else in the world. So with the husband or BF glued to the TV screen and literally forgetting his wife’s or GF’s existence, the cricket widow is left to fend for herself. Now, Nonsense Aplenty is not a coochie-coo, Agony Unc, pour-me-your-heart-out-I-will-listen-to-you-sweety kinda blog, so don’t look for comforting talk here. Practically speaking, I must say that a cricket widow can be a real obstructing irritant for a cricket fanatic who is devoted to the game. With the IPL season hotting up and matches getting more interesting, the irritancy factor of a cricket widow can get magnified manifold. Here is an example scenario of one such household. The husband here is an IPL T20 fanatic. He is sprawled on the couch, glued full-on to the match being played out infront of him. His eyes are transfixed to the TV screen and understandably, little else matters to him right now. The wife (a potential cricket widow) can’t understand what the whole fuss is about. She is done with her office work, finished rounds of shopping, fed up with hanging around her pals, has browsed thru 6 Feminas, 3 Women’s Eras, 10 Filmfares, and the entire Internet. She has slept off. She has woken up. But she still finds Hubby dearest glued to the TV, cursing every dot ball and cheering every six hit. The disgusted wife tries to strike up a conversation. Lets join the action from here :

Wife : “Cricket, cricket, cricket. Ufff.. all you watch is this stupid cricket”

Husband: “Ummm… hmmm…”

Wife: “ You know I went to the parlour today….”

Husband: “Ummm hmmm…???”

Wife: “And I got my hair layered and permed and colored. First I got this strand colored dark brown and then this… “

Husband: “It’s a six!!! What a shot!!”

Wife: “What the… hey are you listening to me?”

Husband: “Yes yes…. And you were saying…. ?”

Wife: “Ya, I got my hair coloured. See, its nice na? And then I got a manicure and then I applied nail polish to this finger and….”

Husband:”Fouuuurrrrrr!!!!”

Wife: “Ufff…. You never listen. By the way what is this match. IPL?

Husband: “Yes”

Wife: “Ooooooh… so India is playing Pakistan?”

Husband: *gives an exasperated stare*

Wife: “Oh… so India is playing India?”

Husband: *silence*

Wife: “See such a yuckie colored uniform those players are wearing na. The color of their outfit is not at all matching with the color of their shoes and… “

Husband: “Ssshhh..”

Wife: “Sorry”

Husband: “Don’t disturb me. Don’t you have anything else to do?”

*10 seconds of silence, and then *

Wife: “Hey why is Kumble bowling to Dhoni? I thought they were in the same team”

Husband: “This is IPL for Heaven’s sake. They are in different teams. Now just shut up and watch for sometime"

Wife : " Yeah whatever. Hey, can you flip the channel once? I need to watch my serial"

Husband: "What serial?"

Wife: "Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bevdi Thi"

Husband: " *Grrrr* Don't you touch the remote"

Wife: "Stupid..... *Hmmmpfff* "

*5 seconds of silence, and then *

Wife: “Hey, must those cheerleaders wear such short skirts?”

Husband: “Shut up and let me watch”

Wife: “And must those cameras focus right up their skirts?”

Husband: “Shut up and let me concentrate”

Wife: “Ewwww… is it the Indian Premier League or the Indian Porn League?”

Husband(losing it) : “ Cant you just SHUT UP, lady? Do I need to call a locksmith to lock your big mouth shut?!! “

Wife (in tears) : " *Sob sob* You just screamed at me? "

Husband(staring at TV): “ Oh good shot. Good shot. Come on boys, another 10 balls to go…”

Wife: “*Sob* You screamed at me?”

Husband: “Sssshhh quiet… 9 balls to go…”

Wife: “ *Sob* I am not gonna stay here. *Sob* I am going to my mother’s. D’ya hear me? I am leaving”

Husband: “Why? You don’t want to watch the second innings?”

Wife: "*Sob* What sort of a jerk are you? *Sob*"

Husband: "I am yet to classify myself, he he"

Wife: "Useless talking to you. I am leaving."

Husband: "Take my car, I wont be needing it today. Oh shot! Its a six! Yippeee!"

Wife: "I don't need your bloody car. I'm leaving forever."

Husband: "Shot! Hey on your way out could you just toss me a Coke from the fridge?

The wife literally tosses the can of Coke at her husband, which lands boink on top of his head. And then she proceeds to storm out, Gucci handbag in tow. The husband recovers from the blow, but is too occupied to think about it because the final over of the innings is being played out and the batsmen are slogging at everything.

Wife(at the door, holding it ajar and looking back over her shoulder) : "I'm leaving. Goodbye forever. Is there any final thing you wanna say?"

Husband: Fouuurrrrr!

*SLAM*

There you go folks! The wife in our story is the latest entrant into the cricket widows' club, albeit her mode of initiation was slightly on the extremes. Now the sequel to this story is also among common lines. A good month and a half later, with the tournament finally over, the husband gets up from his couch, clears the cobwebs from his body, puffs away the layers of dust around him. He then stretches his arms and legs, looks around for a minute, pauses and suddenly wonders "Hey, where's wifey?"

Alright folks, time now to introduce to you the second category of cricket obstructers - the Workaholic Boss.

Workaholic Bosses are the kinds of people who expect their subordinates at work to stay back late into the night and put in extra hours of work- whether there be a genuine need for it or not. What makes them the worst species of supervisors is that not only do they expect their minions to stay back late, but they themselves stay back late and choose to 'lead by example'. These sons of bitches have no social lives for themselves, have no interest in cricket and don't understand others' passion for cricket. They only fear that the skies would come crashing down on their thick skulls if their subordinates do not work late into the night.Now naturally, if you are the kind of employee looking forward to scurry an scoot home early to watch a game of IPL, the presence of a workaholic boss in your life can prove to be a real pain in the neck. But with a little skill and bravado, you should be able to navigate around these assholes like a smart, slippery eel. Here's an example:

Boss: "Hey, where are you going? Its only 5PM"

You: "I'm going home. The match begins at 5PM"

Boss: "What match?"

You: "The IPL"

Boss: "Bah! those two-hoot cricket matches. Don't you think you should rather stay back a bit late and finish off some more work?"

You: "But what for? I'm done for the day"

Boss: "But still, you can stay back and improve on your err... productivity?"

You: "But I need to go home and watch the match"

Boss: " OK fair enough, but can I ask you a few questions first?"

You: "Sure, sir"

Boss: "Do you earn any money by watching those matches?"

You: "No, sir"

Boss: "Are you playing in those matches yourself?"

You: "No"

Boss: "Is your girlfriend cheerleading for any of the teams?"

You: "No"

Boss: "Then why do you have to watch those matches? Why can't you stay back and work some more?"

You: "OK, fair enough sir, but would you mind if I now asked you a few questions?"

Boss: "Shoot, boy"

You: "Do you earn a multi-million dollar bonus for putting in a few hours extra?"

Boss:"Well, no..."

You: "Do you think they'll promote you to be the CEO, if you merely spent extra hours at work?"

Boss: "Hmmm... no"

You: "Working late, with no one around, do you download porn to your official computer, use the office printer to take sleazy printouts, and take them home to arouse your impotent wife?"

Boss: "Heavens!!!! No!!"

You: " Then why do you have to stay back and work late? Why can't you go home and enjoy those matches?"

*10 seconds of silence, and then *

Boss: "Fine, go home and watch your darned cricket match"

You: "Thank you, sir"

See folks? You can navigate around any type of human obstacle that prevents you from watching your beloved IPL. I pray that you don't get to face up with such 'cricket obstructing' specimens in your lives, but in case you do, I hope that my blog has endowed you with some related education. Have a great time, folks! Wish you a very happy cricket season.

Love,

Parry.

P.S: If you have read the entire post and desperately want to throw a shoe at me, please bear in mind that I am a size 8 and my favourite is Nike!

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.