staying.cool

..the ODI is dead.

given the response to twenty20, not least because the subcontinent made it to the final, and a team of 1 billion won it, i say the ODI will die its natural death in roughly two years. coming on the heels of an india/pak match-up prediction, i can be justifiably confident of making such predictions methinks

tests can never die, in my view, simply because they are the “classic” form of the game. and the ordeal of a test match is very different from the game in any shorter form. skills and abilities have to be stretched to very different limits. when one compares an 8 hour running time for ODIs and a 3 hour running time for T20 games, the choice becomes obvious -whether from a viewer perespective, or an economic (read advertisement) perspective. more games, more possible viewership for a quicker game, and a radically different format from the classic version of the game.

ergo, ODIs will eventually be taken out of the equation.

current styles of playing ODIs are pretty much to slam the ball around the park as far as possible, for as long as possible. and even during any mania i have had for the game, i’ve never managed to sustain myself for more than 10 overs at a time. overs 15-40 normally signify a drop in viewership during any such game. the natural successor to ODIs currently seems to be T20. however, it is possible that T20 is modified to have smaller teams, and the options of a couple of substitutions between innings. the choices would seem to make it more unpredictable.

the question is whether tests can ever be killed off as well. i would hope not, but i accept that following tests over 5 days is an ordeal. i have no clue about viewership, but i do know that tests have a different level of cricket that i wouldn’t want to lose. some of the most significant performances have happened in this form of the game.

for now, we celebrate. until team india breaks down given their schedule for the next 6 months: nearly 23 ODIs, two T20 matches and 10 Tests.

T20 poses some interesting questions for the team. will T20 players ever see a bigger stage with the big 3 hanging around ? will the BCCI manage to realise that different teams for different forms of the game need to nurtured ? and the biggest question is: how many of those 35 matches will be without a coach ?

on a personal note, it makes me want to go back to barely following the game at all. mismanagement, frustration, and bad attitudes can only be tolerated for so long.

and still we win.

funny that the team that crashed out the world cup a few months ago, has had a captain resign mid-season, no coach since the world cup debacle, and barely make it through an english summer of cricket is at the top of a points table. funnier that the other points table has a team under very similar circumstances.

now for the laurels, until the next time they screw up.

until then, india vs pakistan. here we come.

..facebooked.

i succumbed.

…never matter.

the answers may never come.

the questions are never asked.

am i lucky, or just escapist ?

certain thoughts still sear my mind. questions continue to arise.

answers will never come. i worry about directing the questions to myself.

i watched as the bubble detached itself from nothingness, and floated off into the space above me. watching it drift along, awaiting the point when it would explode. which would be all too soon, a tad disappointing, but very expected.

it didn’t.

i watched it float on, narrowly miss the light fixture and then hold a path to the nearest wall. the end was near. i nearly turned back to what i was doing, when the light caught the silvery surface. a momentary sheen; the bubble passed out of the range of the lamp, but it had my attention. i started following its aimless drifting, joined by my friend.

it seemed determined to demonstrate resilience rarely seen in its species. wondrously, it weaved, bobbed and drifted in some crazy current of air… protected by some force that prevented it coming in contact with the wall. barely visible at some points, it drifted centimeters from the wall, eventually deciding to dip downwards… lower.. lower.. until finally it seemed collision was inevitable.

not yet. not yet.

barely visible itself, it floated along some invisible path. it had to explore every possible region it could in an all too short life. we missed it at some point, only to find we were nearly to be destroyers. jumping away, carefully ensuring nothing would obstruct it… we watched it zoom towards a nearby counter and then duck away. it seemed unsure whether to go above or below… then chose the latter route, dipping and rising almost heart-stoppingly.

we were now three people enthralled by the travails of a little bubble of air compressed in a thin soap membrane. pointing, exclaiming, wondering, following. on our knees, crawling under the counter, toddling behind it. it could not be possible that it would keep on… but it did.
flashback: to when, as a kid, i would jump and reach for every bubble blown out of the little pipe. a little later: i was blowing the bubbles, laughing as my sister screamed to get them. and today: the three of us following a sole bubble, hoping it would not disappear like so many in the past.

all at once, it hit the ground. an instance of sheen in the light, and it disappeared. just like that. my friends got up, i then realized how much we had been rooting for it. a quick silence, and i got up as well.

like so much else we want, we do, we desire; we can but hope: just a while longer.. don’t burst… just don’t burst.