After the debacles in Mumbai and Kolkata, there have been reports, letters and articles aplenty about that sinking ship called Team India. Fickle as we Indian fans are, we all start ranting and raving about the team, now that it keeps losing. Now, criticising a losing team is an easy and hypocritical thing to do. Especially when you’re not alone. But this article isn’t just about mildly stating that the team has miles to go and should play better cricket. It is anything but that, actually. What I really want to do, but cannot do due to technical impossibilities, is issue a howler against the entire team. Yes, a Mrs Weasley kind of howler. One that shouts, barks and screams at them. That is what I, and many others who idolised that team, want to do.

Now, though I want to blame them too, Sachin Tendulkar and MS Dhoni are not the only reasons why the team lies below dire straits. In fact, every other player in that squad, bar a few exceptions, deserve a huge bollocking from the disillusioned fans. Batsmen, bowlers, management-everybody. But then, unlike the team which is the epitome of on-field indiscipline, it would be better if we’re more disciplined in the way we blame them. We’ll go the way the squad goes. And as blaming the whole team would take ages, we stick to the team’s much vaunted batting line-up. The batting line-up said to be the best on paper, the best when in form, and is neither.

Gautam Gambhir – not giving it his all

Gautam Gambhir. One of India’s best batsmen in the limited overs format. One of the best openers we’ve had. Gambhir’s batting square of the wicket and the manner in which he keeps the scoreboard ticking is a delight to watch. Or rather, WAS a delight to watch. After a well-deserved century against Bangladesh in January 2010, he has failed to score a single ton. 3 years, 23 matches and 45 innings later, all that he has to show is a handful of half-centuries. This is simply unacceptable from a senior, frontline, opening  batsman. Every time he wears that jersey, he gives 100%, he repeatedly says. Now, either he’s lying or he shouldn’t be given that jersey anymore. Its time for change. Especially, when one takes into account that he offers nothing else on field. Gambhir’s efforts in the deep should be captured with a Canon DSLR, published in a hard-bound textbook and taught to the students of the game as, “How not to field”. It is that bad at times. Better than Inzamam, but that’s more of an insult than a compliment. Honestly, 100%?

Moving from one Dilli-boy to the next. Though he is also currently guilty of doing more harm than good to Indian cricket, I love Virender Sehwag. His calm demeanour, mad batting and awful running between the wickets give new definitions to the word “laidback”. Now, unlike Gambhir, Sehwag scores a century every once in a while. It is when one tries to look what’s in between the “once in a while”, that one sees there’s nothing much. But that is quintessential Sehwag, his fans argue. Yes, the flaws of a quintessential Sehwag knock could be overlooked with the likes of Dravid, Laxman and Ganguly around. Not when the team is huffing and puffing to score 300. And when is he going to ground the bat while running between the wickets? Sehwag clearly hasn’t learnt from his past lessons. Also, I fail to understand the number of run-outs between Sehwag and Gambhir. Surely, can’t their well documented partnership and understanding of each other prevent that? And as far as Viru’s fielding is concerned, the less talked about it, the better. Possessed with a literal Delhi-Belly, Sehwag manages to beautifully imitate a sitting duck everytime he dives on his stomach in the covers. His fielding in the slip cordon is slightly better, but nothing to write home about.

Sachin Tendulkar – time to call it a day?

The Indian media and Sachin Tendulkar share this sort of weird relationship wherein, the former will always be obsessed with something or the other concerning the latter. This has been the case for many years now, whether it be his 35th Test ton, the tennis elbow, the 100th hundred and unfortunately, of late, his retirement. He could’ve retired after winning the World Cup in his own backyard. I mean, is there anything more dramatic than that? Okay, the 100th hundred is unique, monumental -  agreed. But not at the cost of the team. He laboured towards his milestone and has been labouring ever since. Right now, Ravichandran Ashwin possesses better technique against the spinners than Sachin. He himself has said that 2015 looks improbable. If that’s the case, what is he waiting for? Hasn’t he been given a long enough rope? When is he going to quit the longer version of the game?

It is only in India, and maybe in Pakistan ,that sentiments rule – even with the BCCI Elite Selection Panel. How else can you explain the inclusion of Yuvraj Singh into the team? With all due respect to Yuvi, his was a selection in which merit was given the backseat over a heart-warming headline. Yes, Yuvi deserved all the support in the world – from his fans, well wishers and the board. But a place in the Indian team? No way, at least not so fast. Even players nursing minor injuries would have been asked to play more practice matches before thinking about a place in the squad, leave alone the Final XI. Now that the furore over his heroic return is over, he has been pounced upon as the easiest scapegoat by the management and sacked for God-knows-how-long. Wouldn’t it have been wiser to not have taken him in the first place? It would only have been fair to the others fighting for that middle-order spot as well as to a desperately out of sorts Yuvi.

The swagger that followed that six off Nuwan Kulasekara is now nowhere to be seen. It has been replaced by a rather resigned, yet stubborn, expression. MS Dhoni and his mysterious ways have shown the Indian cricket team both sides of the coin – the zenith as well as the nadir. Captain courageous of India’s legendary World Cup campaign. Captain who has closed his eyes to the follies of his and his boys’ ways ever since. MS Dhoni, the batsman, doesn’t deserve a place in the T20 and Test squad. The One-Day squad needs him, but not necessarily as captain. All that remains of his T-20 batting are faint memories of an imperious helicopter shot. MSD, the keeper, doesn’t deserve a place in any Indian squad. Naman Ojha, Parthiv Patel and Dinesh Karthik are light years ahead in that aspect. Dhoni deserves a rest more than anything else. The way he struggles to take balls on the bounce further vindicates this. As his batting and keeping leave a lot to be desired, the only reason for his inclusion in the team should be brilliant captaincy. But then, 5 fielders square of the wicket, with three of them on the legside, and 4 of them on the boundary in a Test match is anything but brilliant. Our innocuous bowling attack would find it difficult to take 20 wickets even if everything goes right for them. But add Dhoni’s field placements to that, and taking 20 wickets becomes something bordering on the impossible. Compare this with the standard field of Michael Clarke – 2 slips, a fourth slip, short leg, silly point, short-midwicket, short cover, cover – he piles up the pressure on the batsman. Its time Dhoni became at least half as pro-active. Or rather, its time for Dhoni to be shown the door.

Are talented batsmen like Manoj Tiwary not getting enough chances?

Take away Virat Kohli and Cheteshwar Pujara, nobody else deserves their place in the batting line-up of the team. They have been given too many chances, much to the rightful chagrin of those waiting in the wings. Players like Badrinath, Manoj Tiwary and Dinesh Karthik ought to be given more chances. Others like Shikhar Dhawan and Ambati Rayudu are waiting for that one big break. They should be given atleast a fraction of the chances given to the so-called “biggies”. But none of this is going to happen. The team will win two Tests, silence everybody, and lose the next 10. And Dhoni, Tendulkar, Gambhir and the rest will continue with their merry ways.

The Attitude Era was the pinnacle of the WWF. I deliberately call it the WWF and not the WWE because the former brings me irreplaceable memories. Everytime I see my brother singing praises in glory of John Cena or ranting and raving about how irksome Vickie Guerrero is, I think to myself “Gone are the days…” – a sentiment that would be echoed by everybody who grew up watching this show through the late 90s and the early 2000s. “Gone are the days” maybe a very, very cliched statement, but I believe I’m entitled to use it, seeing the depths to which the once glorious show has sunk.

Everytime I see Josh Mathews or Michael Cole exaggerating about the greatness of people like The Miz and Alberto Del Rio, I’m reminded of that bald, proud man with the beer cans in his hand. Everytime I see them describing how malicious John Laurinitis is, I think of that notoriously unpopular father-son pair, who in hindsight played such a big role in defining the Attitude Era. Everytime I see them explaining the tenacity and courage of Sheamus, I remember that bearded, hairy man who fell off the roof of a steel cage – and still remained smiling. Everytime I see them hating Daniel Bryan, I shudder thinking about the man with the iconic sledgehammer. Everytime I see them awestruck at what a fearsome sight the Big Red Monster is, I see myself being awestruck at what a fearsome sight the Big Red Monster was. No matter how hard they try, that show will never be the same again.

This is not an article about how the show can change for the better. Nor is it a meticulous chronicling of the history of the Attitude Era. It is not about the highs and lows of the Attitude era. Nor is it a comparison between the then and the now. All that this article does is admire that era for what it was. All I want to do is to record everything that comes to my mind when I think about that era. Hence, it may be woefully haphazard in nature, with no particular order, rhyme or reason.

“Austin 3:16 says I just whipped your a**” 

For me, this immortal dialogue is the Attitude Era put in a nutshell. There maybe a 100 other incidents that merit a thumbs-up, but this tops them all. Stone Cold Steve Austin may be remembered by people for burying the Deadman or beating the pulp out of The Rock. But nothing can surpass this one-in-a-Gogol moment that defined the Texas Rattlesnake. Alongwith Shawn Michaels, he gave new definitions to the word charisma. Teaming up with Mike Tyson to humiliate The Heartbreak Kid, smashing The Undertaker‘s skull with a TV Camera, never saying “I quit” to The Hitman’s sharpshooter, ramming Triple H by driving a mini-truck, beating the Brothers of Destruction in a handicapped match, delivering the Stunner time after time on Mr. McMahon – Austin had it in him to send the whole world wild with frenzy and excitement. He was Monday Night Raw’s most prized possession. To this day, he remains the epitome of the word “attitude”. If you are not sure, just log on to YouTube and hear the glass breaking music.

If Austin was the biggest “face” of the era, a certain Hunter Hearst Helmsley was its biggest “heel”. The hate that fans had for Edge a few years back, was nothing compared to their burning hatred for Triple H at the time. The very entity of the D-Generation X was one big paradox – the very popular Michaels on one side of the spectrum and the very notorious HHH on the other. Unfortunately, if the Attitude Era lacked anything, it was Shawn Michaels’ persona. HBK was on a four year hiatus from 1998-02, thus missing much of the golden period of the show. His counterpart though, was among the primary architects in making that era golden. His unholy alliance with Chyna, his legendary ladder match against The Rock, his malicious barbed wire beating of Cactus Jack and his shameful betrayal of HBK, not to mention his relation with the McMahons – all of these added to making him Villain Numero Uno of the time. An absolute legend, who later fought in the greatest match of all time, the epic No-Holds-Barred clash against Taker last year.

Many people may disagree with me, but Mick Foley exceeds even The Undertaker, The Rock and Kane as the man who carved the biggest niche for himself in the industry. His rugged looks, charming smile and multiple personalities gave him a cult following. Whether it be the schizophrenic Mankind, the hopelessly romantic Dude Love, the malicious Cactus Jack or simply Mick Foley himself, one lasting feature stayed throughout – masochism. The extreme rules that are generally set for his matches have led to many an epic, unforgettable encounter. Every kid must have seen this guy with the white shirt falling off a roof in the “Don’t try this at home” ads. Yes, that’s him. If that gave you goosebumps, wait till you see his epic street-fight with Triple H at the Madison Square Garden. For him, barbed wires, steel chairs, sledgehammers, pinstripes and iron nails were just words in the dictionary.

Ask any WWF faithful and he’ll tell you that nothing can ever, ever rival the fixtures of WrestleMania 14, in 1998. While Austin, Michaels and Tyson stole the show with their blockbuster main event, another match changed the entire course of the show. The Undertaker vs Kane. The first ever encounter between the 2 brothers. Ever since he ripped the Phenom apart after intervening in the first ever Hell in a Cell match in 1997, Kane had been Paul Bearer’s trump card to end Taker “once and for all”. The atmosphere, Lawler’s and JR’s awesome commentary, the dark build-up and the insane marketing gimmicks all led to the most anticipated clash of the decade. And it more than lived up to its stratospheric expectations.  Unfortunately, both wrestlers, especially the younger brother failed to make much of a mark among the elite ever since. Taker was the primary heel after Triple H for much of the period with his infamous “crucifixion” of Stone Cold being among the high points of the period. His spine chilling music, casket matches, inferno matches and buried alive contests gave him a large fan following – especially in the subcontinent. Not to forget the bike riding – new American avatar in between.

The Attitude Era was more about moments – both on-stage and behind the scenes than about proper, technical, old-fashioned wrestling. It was an era in which the wrestlers threw caution to the winds and possessed an in-your-face attitude. Bubba Dudley’s epic free-fall in WrestleMania 2000, Kurt Angle’s miraculous victory in the most-watched match of all time (will talk about that), Razor Ramon’s moments under the sun in the first ever Ladder match – all showed that you do not necessarily need an ensemble cast to produce magic. This throws light into the quality of the story-lines of that era. It also gives hope to the present Parental Guidance era. Now, without further deviations, let me get back into the awed reminiscence mode. The most-watched match of all time, as I mentioned earlier featured one of the biggest upsets of all time. A spectacular 6 man Hell in a Cell tussle that featured Stone Cold, The Rock, The Undertaker, Triple H, Rikishi and the moronic Angle saw battles within battles within battles, with Angle holding onto win an absolute cracker.

I wish I could keep talking about each of these epic encounters in a more detailed manner. But this would result in the article being as long as Mr Kennedy’s tongue. Recollecting some of them send shivers down my spine. The 3 stages of hell match between Austin and HHH, The Hell in a Cell match between Mankind and Taker at The King of the Ring, The epic WrestleMania 17 match between Austin and The Rock, the legendary No-Disqualification match between Triple H and the HeartBreak Kid in SummerSlam 2002, Austin’s epic victory over Undertaker in the first-blood match at Over the Edge, 1999…. The list could go on and on. The only recent match that has been anywhere near the quality of these encounters was the “End of an Era” battle in this year’s WrestleMania 28. But again, it pitted two Attitude Era veterans against each other.

Any pub talk on the Attitude Era would have the name of The Rock somewhere along the line. The transformation of the very ordinary Rocky Maivia into the “If you can smell” icon is among the greatest stories of this era. The Rock’s mic performances are unparalleled to this day. He was and is, well and truly, the most electrifying athlete of all time. People still say that the greatest match that never was is a hypothetical encounter between The Rock and HBK.

The matches may not have had the technical perfection of an Andre the Giant vs Hulk Hogan clash. They may not have had the violence of a Batista vs Triple H clash. They may not have featured ruthless elimination chambers. Yet, they thrilled the audience like never before and never after. Don’t ask me the reasons. Either there are too many or there is none at all. All it leaves me with, is a profound sense of awe, excitement and nostalgia.

When I keep pining about the era, my brother asks me, “What was so special about the era?”

As a reply, I quote Louis Armstrong’s iconic quote on Jazz: “Son, if you gotta ask, you’d never know.”

Subhash Chandra’s Indian Cricket League was meant to revolutionise cricket as we see it. Along with his Carribean counterpart, the multi-billionaire Sir Allen Stanford, a reloaded and cash pumped Kerry Packer act was envisaged by the business baron. But unlike their Australian predecessor, both men failed miserably on one account: quality. A group of cricketers whose twilight was beyond them, a bunch of youngsters deemed the expendables and a bafflingly short-sighted marketing strategy, resulted in both experiments flopping big time. Amidst all the harakiri that followed, with the BCCI and the ICC pulling strings for the “sake of test cricket“, as they justified it, the unfortunate cricketers who had signed up for the leagues, had to play in front of stands emptier than that of an I-League clash. Needless to say, both the ventures ended up being cases of mere brouhaha more than anything else.

People today say that the one good thing that came out of these two tournaments, was the novel idea of something that took the game by storm – the Indian Premier League. But the mastermind behind the enormous success that IPL is, claims that he had been envisioning a league of this magnitude way back from 1996. Whatever the facts of the matter are, Lalit Modi’s brainwave captured the imagination of the whole world, and unlike their doomed predecessors, IPL was here to stay. Now, Modi was a real visionary. Right from the inception of the IPL, he had been planning a tournament that ran on similar lines to the UEFA Champions League, pitting the best T20 franchises in the world against each other.

Thus, was born the Champions League T20. The first edition of the proposed tournament had to be cancelled due to the 26/11 blasts. Maybe, in hindsight, it was a bad omen. But Modi hadn’t left the idea and the tournament was to become a reality the next year. The first season came and went with below par TV ratings and spectatorship. The first CL T20 would have been a damp squib, but for the exploits of Kieron Pollard and Brett Lee. Looking back, it has been the best CL T20 so far.

After the rude wake up call that the first edition was, the administrators should have learnt a few lessons. First, the tournament held no interest at all overseas. Though the Eagles, Otagos and Wayambas played, they were all anonymous entities – both at home, and in India. But this disadvantage wouldn’t have become as pronounced as it was, had the Indian viewers shown some interest. It was here that Modi failed to grasp the psyche of the average Indian TV viewer. We Indians love to worship stars. No country revels in making and breaking stardom like ours. Whether it be Rajnikanth, Amitabh Bacchan, Pawan Kalyan or Sachin, Dhoni and the rest, Indians believe in star power more than bits and pieces. Always. The “Saachin, Saachin!!” chants throng the stadiums more than “Indiaaa, Indiaaa!” (another thing is that if there is anybody who deserves that kind of applause, it is that man and only that man). People visit the grounds and switch on their TV sets, wanting to see Dhoni’s helicopter shot and Gilchrist’s baseball-like pummelling. Not to see, with all due respect, Thandi Tshabalala’s off spinner or Moises Henriques’ front foot defence. The fact that the home teams fared poorly only added to the indifference of the Indian viewer. Already, the backbone of the league was skewed due to lack of interest.

The rest of the editions have only aggravated the flaws that have been prevalent right from Season 1. The league, especially when one takes into account the hopelessly farcical affair that we witnessed this time around, suffers from a massive identity crisis. What is the motive of the league? What good has come out of it? What is there to cheer in it? It is confusion everywhere.

We’ll try and understand what the purpose of the tournament is – from a cricketing, as well as a commercial point of view. The UEFA Champions League, the inspiration behind our subject, is a long-drawn affair which lasts the entire season, with home and away games resulting in stadiums becoming cauldrons of drama and electricity. The CL T20, on the other hand, is a regulation round-robin turned knockout tournament. The test of the best, as it claims itself to be, doesn’t take place in such a format. All that happens is an assortment of players coming together to everybody’s inconvenience, in the middle of a busy season, playing for money (which is perfectly justified), and with sub-zero passion – again, perfectly justified when one looks at things from player’s point of view. For instance, take the case of a player like Azhar Mahmood. He plays T20 cricket for Dhaka, Wayamba, Auckland Aces and Kings XI Punjab. In case two of his teams qualify, for whom does he play? There is a solution for this, made rather ‘wisely’ by the BCCI, containing a page full of clauses and arithmetic which would decide for whom he plays. But can paperwork take into account passion and team loyalty? What if a player has to turn up for a team which he would rather turn up against? And, if a player gives less than 100%, he is making a fool of those people who have paid hard-earned money to root for him. This scenario throws light into the amateurish thinking that has gone into building the framework of the league. Most clubs playing in the UEFA Champions League have a history that is older than that of independent India. They have a solid system in which such a situation can never exist. CL T20, on the other hand, is a tournament played by immature infants and run by immature businessmen.

Azhar Mahmood – One player, four teams

Now, we move on to the purpose of the league. First cricketing, then commercial. The tournament is supposed to be an arena in which the best take on each other to earn the tag of “the best of the best”. The best? I don’t understand. CL T20 has four Indian teams by default and two each from South Africa and Australia. The final two spots are decided by a qualifier played by the champions of West Indies, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, England and New Zealand. This is ridiculous. As far as track records go, no team has fared better in the shortest format than Pakistan. West Indies, Sri Lanka, England and New Zealand are not far behind. It should have been two teams from India, Australia and South Africa and one each from the other four nations. When a mid-table Indian team gets to play at the expense of the champions of other cricketing equals, where does the talk of the “best” arise? I don’t understand how people can bear to watch such an event, in spite of it being so blatantly biased.

Moving on to another “purpose”, talent spotting. Seriously? But for Kieron Pollard, what talent has this tournament unearthed? For an event in which nearly half the teams are from India, does that reason really hold weight? Don’t they have two full months in the IPL to discover new talents? As for the overseas teams, I don’t understand how talent can be identified when the format is as abridged as it is right now. We may see one-match wonders. But lasting talent on a consistent basis? No way. Sorry for the paragraph being filled with question marks. For the narrator, the very existence of this tournament is a question mark in itself.

Now, the commercial part. Looking from the players’ point of view, the event is incredibly lucrative. Take the case of Lasith Malinga. For bowling 4 overs in the cool of Kingsmead, he gets 50 times of what he would have got, had he slogged for 5 days under the Colombo sun. One cannot blame the players. For them, it has to come from within. But I don’t get what the administrators gain commercially from an event which has such low viewership.

Now, the CL T20 is organised at the behest of the BCCI. Along with the role of filling its ever-expanding coffers, the board also has the small yet vital duty of looking after the game in this country. They already make their players rich. The IPL sees to that. Then why this event right in the middle of the season, three days after the T20 World Cup? If there is any section of players who would really benefit from the money that is pumped into the tournament, it is the unheralded overseas players. But frankly speaking, no other cricketing board is too enthusiastic about the tournament. The tiff between New South Wales and Cricket Australia over Shane Watson is a case in point. There would definitely be more spectators for an India-Australia Test match, rather than for a Delhi-Nashua encounter. Instead of a needless, non sequitur affair, why don’t they plan good, proper cricketing encounters? If that is not possible, at least rest the over-worked and over-stressed players. They are too valuable to be lost to injuries, playing for matches that hold neither public nor personal interest.

It is time the Champions League T20 is scrapped for good. The lovers of the game are already lamenting the fact that the game loses two precious months to the IPL. This tournament would only deepen their angst and misery. That said, the IPL is a necessary evil. Whatever said and done, it is too big a monster to kill. And, marketing-wise, it is spot on. Till now, at least. The CL T20, on the other hand, is a classic case of over-kill, something that the BCCI has been repeatedly found guilty of. The event has already done more harm than good. It exists for the sake of existence, with nothing good about it. Except for its Rahman theme song, maybe. What we need is class. Not farce.

Miracle: Noun.

Definition - An extraordinary and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore attributed to a divine agency.

Ever since the 25th of May, 2005, articles similar to the one I’m about to write have been written by everybody, everywhere. So captivating is its plot, so enthralling its story, that nobody, atleast no Liverpool fan can stop obsessing about it. Not just the climax that took place in the Turkish capital, but the whole story, right from the moment that no-nonsense Spaniard, Rafa Benitez took over the reins of a struggling team. For the very few who are still ignorant about what happened henceforth, this article hopes to recreate atleast some of the drama that unfolded over the long, winding 2004-05 European season.

The Russian revolution had struck the Premier League. The endless flow of currency from the pockets of Roman Abrahamovich had meant all top class players were under the vicinity of the Stamford Bridge radar. Steven Gerrard was among the primary targets of Chelsea FC over the pre-season. Inspite of all the pressure, Gerrard, the new coach Benitez and the club held strong. Gerrard stayed. But before the Kopites could heave a sigh of relief, Michael Owen was snatched away from Anfield to the Bernabeu. The morale of the team had hit an all-time low. Things looked bleak. Amidst this pall of gloom, was an important fixture. A Champion’s League qualifier against the Austrian team Graz FC in their backyard.

This was Rafael Benitez’s first match at the helm of the team. And he came up with a tactical masterpiece that changed the fortunes of the team as a whole. Steven Gerrard was shifted from his conventional position of central mid-field to a more attacking role, wherein he was sandwiched between the mid-field and the forward line up. Inspirational as it turned out to be, Gerrard scored a brace as Liverpool breezed to a 2-0 win. Gerrard’s first goal was an absolute cracker. Only 90 minutes separated Anfield from where they really belonged. Europe.

Despite a slight setback (they lost the return fixture 1-0), Liverpool were in the Champions League. The Kop was abuzz with emotion and expectation. Drawn along side the team in Group A were Monaco, who had Javier Saviola and Emmanuel Adebayor among others, Rivaldo’s Olympiakos and Diego Tristan’s Deportivo La Coruna. Liverpool’s first match was to be against Monaco. At Anfield. The atmosphere, electric. Liverpool were back in Europe and they meant business, outplaying Monaco 2-0. Anfield had turned into a theatre of dreams with “Make us dream” banners raised by the Kopites.

The promising start was followed by rather ordinary football from the team as losses to Olympiakos and Monaco, and a draw against Deportivo La Coruna, meant that chances of entering the knockout stage were severely handicapped. The only win amongst these lacklustre performances  was a none-too-impressive 1-0 win against Deportivo. This put the team in a difficult situation, with a 1-0 win or victory by a 2 goal margin against Olympiakos in the final group match being imperative in order to reach the last 16. One thing helped the team, though. The all important fixture was in Anfield. The prologue is over. It is here that the story really begins.

With everything at stake, Anfield was ready for the battle ahead. Gerrard, on the day before had categorically stated that he didn’t want to wake up to the UEFA Cup, the next day. But things went awry very early as a Rivaldo free kick meant that Liverpool had a 3-goal mountain to climb. Seemed like Mission Impossible. But then, Liverpool were Mission Impossible specialists that season. An inspired substitution by Benitez, bringing in Florent Pongolle reaped immediate rewards as the sub scored within 2 minutes of coming on. Benitez took his Midas touch a step further when another substitute, Neil Mellor also scored within 2 minutes of coming on. Unbelievable. But however hard the team tried, the third goal simply didn’t come. With barely a few seconds left, Steven Gerrard let fly an absolute ripper. The stunning goal sent Andy Gray, an Everton fan wild with excitement. It was his “Yes! You beauty” cry that made the goal absolutely magical. Gerrard had written his own destiny. He would not have to wake up to the UEFA Cup.

Yes! You beauty!

(The writer was a cricket-mad 10 year old kid like many other friends of his, with no real interest in football. Switching the channels on a boring day, he finally decided to watch a football match on TV for the first time, due to lack of choices. The writer too possessed a Midas touch as, of all matches, he chose to watch the aforementioned football match. The drama that unfolded had him transfixed. He had become a Stevie G fan and a Liverpool fan. For life.)

Moving back on to the story now. Liverpool were pitted against the dangerous Bayer Leverkusen in the knockout round. As Gerrard says in his autobiography, everybody outside Anfield held the Germans favourite. And Anfield proved everybody wrong. An inspired Liverpool thrashed their opponents 3-1, both home and away and came out run-away winners. The quarters were up next. Here, fate added its own twist into the story. Liverpool vs Juventus, it was.

The Heysel disaster of 1985. One of the worst that the game has ever seen. The Belgian stadium was hosting a grand European Cup final between Juventus and Liverpool. Juventus won the final, but nobody, not even the Torinos remember the match as 39 Juventus fans were killed in the frenzy that followed. The two teams were facing each other for the first time, nearly 20 years later. The match struck a poignant note with the Kopites holding the mosaic, “In memory and friendship”.  Back to the match. One look at the Juve line up and anybody would have been envious. Cannavaro, Del Piero, Thuram, Zambrotta, Perotta, Buffon, Emerson, Nedved – Juve had them all. This was the first David vs Goliath setting for Liverpool in the season. It was definitely not the last.

Platini and Rush – Remembering Heysel

Juventus never realised what had hit them. Before they knew it, Liverpool had raced away to a 2 goal lead within the quarter of an hour. Though the defence held tight from there on, the team conceded a soft, yet invaluable away goal to the Italians during the fag end of the match. With Gerrard out due to injury, a formidable proposition awaited the team with the return leg at the home of the Grand Old Lady of Turin. The resilience of the team came to the fore as they hung on to a goal-less draw. The team had reached the semi-finals of Europe’s premier tournament, much to the surprise of many a pundit. Here, a familiar foe awaited them. Chelsea.

Liverpool had a few scores to settle as Chelsea had beaten them twice in the League and then in the Carling Cup final. But the Blues were everybody’s favourite. The first leg at Stamford Bridge witnessed a cagey, yet sensational goalless draw. Sensational because of Eidur Gudjohnsen’s diving act that ruled out Alonso for the return leg. Gudjohnsen had drawn the ire of the Kopites. He had it coming in the return leg. Anfield, on the day of the return leg, went mad. The good old Kopites say that they had never seen the stadium as charged as it was for the Chelsea match. With the fans riding behind them, the team took a swift lead through a controversial and still debated Luis Garcia goal. The goal came after Petr Cech had openly fouled Milan Baros inside the box. In hindsight, the controversy was needless, because had it not been a goal, it would have been a penalty and Cech would have been sent off. Anyways, the goal woke up a slumbering monster. Liverpool had to struggle against wave after wave of Chelsea attack. But they held firm for 90 mins with the Kop firmly behind them. Stoppage time beckoned. Given that it was a perfectly straight match with very little physicality, 3 mins was all that was required. Instead, it was 6 inexplicable minutes. Somehow, the team held on. Liverpool had come out trumps in another David vs Goliath battle. Liverpool were on their way to Istanbul. Their opponents, AC Milan. The final was between the two most storied teams of European Cup history.

LFC were back where they belonged. And in Istanbul, the players never had to walk alone as the Ataturk Stadium became an Anfield away from Anfield. The crowd that made it to the final showed and still symbolises why the Kopites are called the most passionate fans in the world. But even these fans wouldn’t have expected the team to defeat the Italian giants. Atleast, not in the way they did. The Rossoneri had, just like the Torinos, a star-studded squad – Maldini,  Kaka, Pirlo, Seedorf, Nesta, Crespo, Gattuso, Cafu, Rui Costa, Jaap Stam and the Brazilian goalie, Dida. Again, a David vs Goliath battle was in the offing.

50 seconds. That’s all it took for Milan to find the back of the net. It was more or less an omen for things to come. Kaka literally tore Liverpool apart and played a major role in two more goals before half time, both scored by Crespo. 3-0 at half time. Even the most vocal of fans were left stunned. The Italians were in a different realm altogether. Everybody’s emotions were summed up by a single Andy Gray remark: “The game, well and truly over. And, I hate saying that”. But one man still believed. And he was the man who mattered. Rafa Benitez still believed.

Second half. Milan continue to dominate. 54th minute. The ever reliable Stevie G pulled one back for his team. A faint ray of hope for the Kopites. But nobody knew that this was the beginning of the 6 greatest minutes in European football history. 2 mins after Gerrard had scored, Vladimir Smicer who was playing his final game for the club, smashed one to the bottom corner. 3-2. Now, the Kopites were well and truly back. The buzz in Andy Gray’s voice had returned. Another 3 mins later, Liverpool got a penalty after Gattuso fouled Gerrard. Step up, Xabi Alonso. His penalty was saved by Dida. But cool as a cucumber, Alonso tapped in the rebound, sending the fans into raptures. They had witnessed the most astonishing turn-around the game had ever seen. The second half ended without further drama. Extra time it was. Towards the fag end of ET, with about a minute or two left, the most deadly striker of the time, Andriy Shevchenko missed not one, but two sitters back-to-back as Jerzy Dudek pulled off an incredible double save. Lady luck was smiling on Liverpool. Penalties. Jerzy Dudek’s “spaghetti-leg” act confounded the Milan players. Meanwhile Smicer’s last touch for his team was a successful penalty. Yet another sub-plot. Shevchenko missed his do-or-die penalty and barely a second later, the world was listening to “You’ll Never Walk Alone”. Liverpool had achieved the impossible. The “Make Us Dream” banner had been vindicated.

Every time I see, hear or think about these chain of events, I get goosebumps. Maybe, it was pre-ordained. I don’t know. Maybe, it was divine. After all, isn’t that the very definition of the word miracle? The Road to Istanbul is the perfect Hollywood movie. An emotional background story. Lots of stars. Lots of twists. Nail biting, hair rising and cliff hanger moments. Lots of underdog victories. And, one hell of a climax. Perfect. Everything about that campaign was perfect. What the Calcutta test was to cricket, Istanbul was to football. A once-in-a-lifetime miracle. Period. And timeless.

YNWA!

“What?” Ish said.

“What do you play, that’s what they ask”.

The fictional Australian cricketer Fred Li, from Chetan Bhagat’s best-seller, “The 3 mistakes of my life” describes here, the Australian mindset. All I can say is, the book may have been fiction, but not the Aussie attitude.

Australia was 10th in the overall medals tally at the 2012 London Olympics. The last time they were placed that “low” in the standings was way back in Seoul, 1988. Sadly, the Aussie “low” is an unimaginable, stratospheric dream for India. At least for another 3 decades. Without drifting further from what the article wants to say, let us find out why Australia is the greatest sporting nation in the world.

The greatest sporting icon

Talking about their long list of Olympic medals, what makes Australia’s exploits in the grandest stage of them all even more special, is the multitude of events in which they excel. Every other event would have an Aussie name and probably, an Aussie finalist. This variety, in which excellence is encouraged, even in seemingly obscure sports, is the reason why the Aussies are a force to be reckoned with, no matter what the sport is. But if the writer were to analyse and dissect the Aussie dominance in each of these disciplines, only a book of epic proportions would suffice. This article merely points out and highlights the mark of the Aussie stamp in the more popular sporting disciplines. Their exploits in the Olympic events are something that we’ll discuss on a later day. Yes, the Aussies Rule. Not just in Aussie rules.

WARNING: This article may use the word “Domination” excessively. Don’t blame the writer. Blame the Aussies.

We begin with their unofficial national game, cricket. Right from the moment Charles Bannerman faced the first ball in Test Cricket, till date, Australia have dominated the game like no other nation. Historically, statistically, performance-wise and time-wise, Australia is the best cricketing nation in the world. The baggy green and the canary yellow have repeatedly outclassed and outplayed all other teams, in Tests as well as ODIs. Victories and legends are many in number in Australian cricket, right from 19th century’s Fred Spofforth to 21st century’s Ricky Ponting. The most successful nation in Test Cricket, the Aussies have won an unprecedented 4 ODI World Cups also. Excellence in T20 cricket is only a matter of time. The Aussie team has epitomized resilience, determination and a “never-say-die” attitude that some teams, especially from the sub-continent, lack. To put things in a nutshell, Australia is the best cricketing nation. And yes, I haven’t mentioned Sir Don’s name. But then, do I need to? Haven’t we run out of superlatives to describe him?

Steve Waugh – among the proudest owners of the Baggy Green

Tennis – Along with France, Britain and USA, Australia holds one of the annual Grand Slams of the game. But unlike their European counterparts, and more like their American counterparts, the Aussies have enjoyed sustained periods of success. Roy Emerson, Rod Laver, Ken Rosewall, Pat Cash, John Newcombe, Pat Rafter and more recently, Lleyton Hewitt, form a long list of Aussie greats in Men’s tennis. Women are not too behind either, with the likes of Evonne Goolagong and Margaret Court coming first to my mind. The most dominant nation in the sport after the United States.

Rod Laver: Elegance personified

Hockey maybe India’s unofficial national game, but for the Aussies, it is national pride. If you take away the Indian hockey teams of yesteryears, no other country has dominated the game more. Winning an Olympic medal as late as in Tokyo 1964, the Kookaburras have improved rapidly and have formed a trio-poly of sorts with the Germans and the Dutch. Except for the 1973 and 1975 events, they have been on the medals tally every single time in the World Cup too. The greats include John McBryde and Jamie Dwyer among others. Yes, the Kookaburras are flying really high.

Australia, along with Brazil has the highest number of Formula-1 season champions after Britain, with 3 apiece. In a sport which depends more on success than most sports due to a variety of reasons, Australia have managed to hold their own, even though their last winner, Alan Jones, won the championship more than 3 decades ago. And if one takes individual race victories into account, the Aussies are among the front-runners for pole position. The Aussie flag and the chequered flag have gone hand in hand regularly. With Mark Webber being one of the leading forces behind a very open scenario in the sport, the future of F-1 looks bright Down-Under. The legacies of Jack Brabham and Denny Hulme have not gone in vain. The same dominance has been extended to the two-wheelers too by the Aussies. The first name that comes to my mind is that of 5-time winner Michael Doohan. But Doohan is just one among their 6 champions, with Casey Stoner being the latest.

Casey Stoner

Rugby is another hugely popular sport in Australia, with the rivalry between the Wallabies and the All-Blacks being stuff of legend. Along with their third fierce rival, the Springboks of South Africa, the 2 neighbours have won the most number of Rugby World Cups – 2 each. The Hall of Famers, Reg Gasnier, Wally Lewis, Mick Cronin and others are national icons in their country. Another sport in which the Australians dominate is the aptly named Aussie Rules Football. And then, there are the Olympic events.

Ever improving

The Australians are catching up on other games that are widely popular. The best example of this is the popularity that football has enjoyed in the Outbacks over the last decade or so. Their induction into the Asian group, post the 2006 World Cup, has seen the team growing rapidly, due to the resulting exposure and competition. The Cahills, Kewells and Vidukas have become as popular as the Haydens, Gilchrists and McGraths. With the arrival of stars like Alessandro Del Piero in the domestic league, things look bright for the Aussies. Golf  is also developing fast. Baseball and basketball are other games that have caught the public imagination gradually. Rapid strides are being made, especially in the former.

The A-League

Australia did not win a single medal in the 1976 Montreal Games. Taking it as a national shame, the Government set up the Australian Institute of Sports. The AIS initiated and continues to develop the world’s most professional sports scholarship programme. No Aussie athlete was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Relentless hard work, grit, determination, commitment and a passion for the sport have been their hallmarks, just like any other sportsman from any part of the world. But very few countries have taken the pains to translate this effort into success. India is a case in point. By this, I do not mean the improvement of infrastructure and coaching alone. The attitude has to change. Not only of the government, but of every layman, of you and me. If India is to come anywhere near reaching the levels of excellence that Australia has reached, the bats and balls shouldn’t be shoved out of a kid’s room. They should be allowed to co-exist with the books and pens. When and how, is another question. If lack of inspiration hinders them, they need look no further than the wonder Down-Under. 36 years after Montreal, the Aussies are riding on wave after wave of sporting success. Given the bureaucracy in our land, how long do we need for a sporting renaissance? A 100 years?

Retiring on a high is every sportsperson’s dream. But it is easier said than done. Stopping abruptly when one is in the “zone” as they call it, seems irrational and illogical at the same time. Retiring is much easier when one no longer has the will to go on. When one realises that the body doesn’t obey the mind anymore. Thus, the timing of calling it a day is of supreme importance. Some listen to what others have got to say. Some others move on instinct. Some soldier on. Some others chicken out. Some hate to face the D-Day. Others see it as a stage to script one last, beautiful story. Some scripts go right. Some almost right. The others, downright awry.

Talking of awry farewells, no sportsman deserves a calamitous end – legendary or not. That one  game that haunts him for an entire lifetime. Every sportsman’s nightmare. The one sportsman who immediately comes to my mind when talking about a disastrous swansong is Inzamam ul Haq. One of the greatest wielders of the willow, Inzy was the batting mainstay of the Pakistan team for well over a decade. Also, a reasonably successful, yet controversial skipper. Any top-10 test batsmen list in the 90′s and the 00′s figured the burly batsman’s name. Inzy was at the helm of things for Pakistan’s campaign for the 2007 World Cup, held in the Caribbean. Losing the opening match to the Windies was seen as nothing more than an aberration for the Men in Green, coached by the incredibly successful South African, Bob Woolmer. Ireland and the Zimbabwe were next. But then, just like their counterparts right next to the border, Pakistan ended up losing to minnows Ireland, and crashed out of the tournament. A terribly disappointed Inzy announced his retirement right after the match. Already, a sad ending to a stellar career. But the incident that completely destroyed what should have been at least an ordinary ending was the mysterious death of Woolmer in the team hotel the next day. The whole team was questioned. The game was in dire straits. Amidst all the finger pointing and the speculations that followed, retired a broken man, walking into the sunset after a magnificent career. Pakistan won the dead rubber game against Zimbabwe, Inzy’s final match. Small consolation for a phenomenal player.

Another miserable retirement was that of Sydney Olympics’ Golden Girl, Marion Jones. Caught for illicit use of drugs, Jones’ case is not worth talking about. She retired on the wake of pleading guilty in a drug case in 2008.  An athlete who should have been a role model to many a budding star, ended up languishing behind the bars. But unlike Inzy, Jones brought about her own downfall. As they say, from Hero to Zero. Or even worse. Mohammed Azharuddin and the late Hansie Cronje are two other legends, whose careers ended due to off-field activities.

Moving slightly higher from the bottom of the pH meter, we find those swansongs that are less than the ordinary yet definitely unhappy. The retirement of Paul Gascoigne, is a case in point. After his fantastic performance in the Euro’96, Gazza took the train that was hurtling down from marvellous to mediocre. His actions off the field led to the then coach, Glen Hoddle dropping him for the ’98 World Cup squad. The ensuing spat between player and coach meant Gazza never donned the England shirt again. His free fall continued for the rest of his career, taking him to USA to China and back to USA, where he retired in obscurity, having played a handful of games for Boston United, a League Two side.

Other legendary figures who retired on a low, sans the dominance and the greatness that epitomised them, include Ballack, Mike Tyson, the boxing counterpart of Gascoigne, Andy Roddick, the perennial under-achiever, and Wasim Akram. These players deserved to retire on a resounding roar. It ended with a meek whimper instead. 

Moving on, we find the curious case of “retirement after coming out of retirement”. Barring the exceptions of Monica Seles,  Super-mom Kim Clijsters, George Foreman, Formula 1 legend Nikki Lauda,  Pakistani legend Imran Khan and a few others (Lance Armstrong can no longer be added here), the players who have engaged themselves in this hazardous endeavour have almost always flopped. The typical example is that of Bjorn Borg. Borg was the perfect example of a player retiring on a high when he shocked the tennis world in 1982 by announcing his retirement at the age of 26. 8 years later, Borg shocked the tennis world even more by attempting a comeback, apparently forgetting that the graphite racquet era had begun. Borg, wooden racquet and all, failed to win a single match. Here was the unique case of a player being an example of both sides of an oft-repeated cliche – “Retire when the world asks you why? And not when they shout Why not?”. Others who failed doing this, include the likes of Muhammad Ali, whose image of being belted around by Larry Gomes still lingers, and Aussie Rules legend, Tony “Plugger” Lockett. I’ll daresay Micheal Schumacher and Ian Thorpe?

Now, we move to somewhere along the middle of the meter. Most farewells in sport have been simple and dignified. The player in question either announces retirement prior to a contest or retires right after it, in a most gracious fashion. Andy Roddick falls on this list too. But the group of players who embraced this method to perfection, were the Indian cricketers who called it a day over the past few years. Right from Javagal Srinath in 2003 to Kumble and Ganguly in 2008, Rahul Dravid early this year and VVS Laxman last month, their farewells have all brought a tide of sadness, with well-wishers swarming all around them. Just like their careers, their way out of the game had class written all over it. Another retirement, among the most poignant in sport, was the tearful farewell of Andre Agassi after the 2006 US Open. Agassi is among the greatest ambassadors of the game even today, 6 years after retirement. Other players who have retired in this neat, yet not so movie-like manner, amidst much fanfare,  include Steve Waugh, Brian Lara, Pele, Goran Ivanisevic and many others.

Now, we take the case two modern day sporting greats, whose final matches were sad, due to no fault of their own. Just like the former Indian cricketer of yesteryear’s, Nari Contractor, South African wicket keeper Mark Boucher had to end his career in a most disappointing fashion recently, due to an on-field injury. The glovesman nearly lost his eye after a bail struck him during play. Boucher had to call it a day in a very, very sad and abrupt manner. Another retirement, belonging to an altogether different realm, yet no less disappointing was that of former Italian and AC Milan captain,  Paolo Maldini. The Rossoneri’s captain had announced that he would retire after his 900th appearance for Milan, against Totti’s AS Roma at the fag end of the 2008-09 season. Milan, unfortunately lost the match, and the greatest player ever to wear the Red-Black stripes was jeered and boo-ed off the field in shameful circumstances. The reason for this disgrace, remains, annoyingly, a mystery to this day.

Now, we move higher to the happier farewells. These swansongs were almost, almost perfect – but for minor glitches that ruined their aura towards the very end. Called the greatest footballer of modern times, Zinedine Zidane was an absolute magician. Coming out of retirement and guiding a team that was languishing in the dark, Zidane took the team all the way to the final of the 2006 World Cup. All the gods were smiling on the French genius with a fairytale ending well on the cards. Alas! A moment bordering on passion, madness and instinct meant that the Jules Rimet Trophy slipped through the French hands. A classic case of so near, yet so far. Another retirement, that is now a fabled part of sporting lore was that of Sir Don Bradman. 99.94 will forever be remembered. The batsman who bravely withstood Jardine’s Bodyline Boys, lost his wicket to an innocuous leg spinner. Those 4 runs show what a reality check sport can be.

Finally, we talk about the PERFECT farewells. Perfect in every sense of the word. Heavenly. Glenn “Pidgey” McGrath, among the greatest fast bowlers of the world, had won 3 World Cups and an equal number of Ashes before his last season in international cricket. The 2006-07 season. The season having both the Ashes and the World Cup, back to back. The pinnacles of Test and One-Day cricket. The Aussies won both. And how? McGrath retired from Test cricket by “clean-sweeping” England 5-0 in the Ashes held Down-Under. It was only the second time in the long history of Ashes that a whitewash had taken place. A perfect farewell. As for the World Cup in the West Indies, the Aussies did not lose a game. Or rather, they never even came close to losing one. McGrath bade farewell to the game in a manner that would put even an outlandish dream to shame. Moving on to an equally perfect swansong by an equally legendary figure, the retirement of Pete Sampras was another story that never went awry. He called it a day by winning the 2002 US Open. In his backyard. And that too, against his greatest peer, Andre Agassi. I don’t think Hans Andersen could have written a fairytale with a happier and more dramatic ending.

Not everybody can retire like a McGrath or a Sampras. Sport is not a Cinderella story. All sportsmen deserve a decent, if not a magnificent farewell. It would help a lot if the media would not go for their throats at the slightest stumble, like they do now. Yes, “their” includes Sachin Tendulkar too. Rather than breathing down their neck, the public and media should leave sportsmen in their twilight alone, so that they comeback, deliver and give us more joy. And by not deserting them at times of adversity, and backing them till the very end, can’t we give them more joy? Don’t they deserve it? Let’s do our part. The rest, as they say, is all about hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.

The first Ancient Olympics took place in Greece in 776 BC. The main events were athletics, wrestling and marathon, among others. All these being events that required strength, endurance and stamina. Fast forward the scene to Greece again in 1896, and the events weren’t altogether dis-similar. Sports has always been associated with passion, grit, talent, temperament, toughness and even intelligence. But not much with grace, elegance and beauty. The Olympic motto is “Faster, Higher, Stronger”. Why not “Prettier?” Should beauty be restricted to Artistic Gymnastics and Synchronised Diving?

Bar a few exceptions, grace has never been a stand-out feature of any legendary sporting entity- whether it be an individual, or a team. Of course, beauty certainly lies in the eyes of the beholder and what may be beauty to one may not be beauty to another. But, generally, very few of these entities delight people to the extent of sheer joy or pure bliss. What’s more, they don’t want to delight anybody as well. The aim of every single sporting entity is and should be to provide delight in the form of  victories. Visual delight is certainly given the back seat. Beauty has always been the icing. Never the cake.

Today, the pundits keep predicting the doom of sports as they used to see it. Behind the baseline groundstrokes have replaced the finesse of a serve-and-volley game. The 5-4-1 formations have replaced the vibrant 3-3-4s. The gentleman’s game is all about slogging and ridiculously short boundaries. The delicate touch-and-go style has been replaced by the more effective diagonal long balls in hockey. Rather than going for the kill, the players of today prefer dire, defensive ordeals in chess. The machine keeps overshadowing the man every single year in F1. It is all about power, power, power, lament the pundits. The thirst for victory has sounded the death-knell of elegance they say. But beaneath all these stereotypes, aren’t they missing reality? Isn’t it obvious that things are not even half as bad as they seem? Because, this is something I say with full conviction. Beauty is dominating sports like never before.

There maybe no Ken Rosewall or Arthur Ashe wielding the magic racquet today. The delightful drop shots and cheeky lobs may not be as popular as they used to be. The Gilbert and Bolletieri prodigies believe in rapid runs across the baseline rather than rapid runs towards the net. Yes, the sport has changed. But then isn’t change inevitable? And just because the pundits say the new game is unattractive, does it really mean so? Well, all this talk is about mere mortals. Beyond all this “the good old days” monotony, we found two of the greatest players the game has seen. And in them, we find the very embodiment of beauty, grace and elegance. Pete Sampras and Roger Federer, statistically and aesthetically, the two greatest players of all time, have serve and volleyed, drop shotted, “one-handed backhanded”, lobbed and delighted their ways to immortality. The Swiss wizard is still going strong, though his zenith maybe past him. No, beauty is not dead in tennis. It has been ruling the game for the past two decades.

The beautiful game may never see another Di Stefano, Puskas, Pele or Beckenbauer. Cryuff’s Total Football is all but dead. Even Dunga’s Brazil embraced the more effective, yet cliched “boring defensive football”, ditching its vey own Joga Bonito style in South Africa. The Italians have revolutionised the game with their Catenaccio style of defensive football.  The rewards that this style reaps was perfectly illustrated by Chelsea in its famous Champions League semifinal defeat of Barcelona. Also, the fans are perfectly happy, much to the despair of the so-called “connoisseurs”. Amidst all this was born a game-changing sorcery led by an Argentine Wunderkind that has changed the very landscape of football. FC Barcelona and the Spanish National Team, both having supremely gifted artists like Xavi and Iniesta in their ranks, have feinted, touched, back-heeled and through-balled their ways to immortality. No, beauty is not dead in football. It is the leader of a new language in the game.

Hockey is perhaps the game that has undergone the largest metamorphosis among all sports. The birth of another Dhyanchand is next to impossible. The pre-1950s Indian hockey team is irreplaceable. The synthetic turf and the advent of European dominance resulted in the elegant sub-continental game becoming archaic. The National Game lies in a sorrowful state. Now, let’s look at 3 players from the three most successful nations in the game today. In Jamie Dwyer, team Australia has undoubtedly the best player in the world today. When in full flow, Dwyer is poetry in motion. A wonderful sight. The German outfield player, Christopher Zeller is more like the Zidane of hockey. His feints and stickwork are unparalleled right now.

And if Dhyanchand is the Bradman of hockey, then the  Sachin Tendulkar of the game is the Dutchman, Teun de Nooijer. Having played over 400 matches for the Oranje, Nooijer’s trophy cabinet has everything that a hockey player could possibly ask for. And the game has seen few more elegant players than the legendary Dutchman. The three aforementioned players have been the most vital cogs in the wheel of the inter-changing juggernauts that Australia, Germany and The Netherlands have been. They have drag-flicked, smashed and scooped their ways to immortality. No, beauty is not dead in hockey. It has given new impetus to a waning game.

If Neville Cardus, the much acclaimed cricket writer had been alive today, he would have been the saddest man on earth, lamenting how “Un-British” the game has become. No sport has delighted the purists more than cricket. Right from Hobbes, Hutton and Bradman to Boycott, Kanhai and Gavaskar, cricket was the one game totally unaffected by all the “evils of modern capitalism”. Then came the year 1975, and subsequently the Packer Era. This would have been enough to break the heart of Cardus. The game had become “artificial”. Then came 2007, and subsequently, Lalit Modi. This must have broken the heart of every cricket lover with grey hair. The game had become a “business”. Test cricket was doomed, they said. 5 years on, inspite of the phoenix-like revival of Test cricket, inspite of ODIs being unaffected, the experts are still afraid. The gap between bat and ball was becoming more pronounced by the day. Twenty20 had shot Test cricket in the head, they believed. But then, post 2008, hasn’t Tendulkar continued to delight us? Didn’t Murali continue to mesmerise us, until he decided to call it a day? Didn’t every Very Very Sublime flick by Laxman drive Sidhu crazy? Hasn’t Jayawardene kept on playing the late cut with childish cheek? And isn’t Hashim Amla the greatest advertisement for beauty in the game today? Isn’t a  Steyn yorker cartwheeling the middle stump a beautiful sight? Together, they have pulled, cover drived, doosra-ed and reverse swung their ways to immortality. No, beauty is not dead in cricket. It is guiding the game through a transitional phase.

The writer cannot draw on further analogies from other disciplines of sport, simply due to his ignorance of their present state. All he knows is that Viswanathan Anand continues to dominate chess, and he is as attacking a player as there ever was. And in chess, attack is beauty. Though they haven’t defied gravity as yet, unlike their legendary predecessor, LeBron James and Kobe Bryant are, among many, many others, two players who definitely make basketball beautiful. Take away Jansher and Jahangir Khan, squash has never seen players as elegant as Amr Shabana and James Willstrop. And I hope, wish and fervently believe that elegance has a major role to play in every game, right from Dressage Equestrian to Sepak Takraw. Sports needs the artists more. Not at the expense of victory, but as the very cornerstone of victory. If there is anything that can carry sports forward during the testing times of drug scandals, match fixing and spot fixing, it is excellence. And excellence is beauty in itself. What sports need is more Michael Johnsons and less Ben Johnsons. No, beauty is not dead in sports. Grace is definitely, great.

]]> http://www.sportskeeda.com/2012/09/27/g-for-grace-g-for-great-beauty-and-sports/feed/ 1 136477 http://www.sportskeeda.com/2012/09/12/top-15-football-trolls-of-all-time/ http://www.sportskeeda.com/2012/09/12/top-15-football-trolls-of-all-time/#comments Wed, 12 Sep 2012 14:59:27 +0000 gautam ramachandran http://www.sportskeeda.com/?p=719809 Football memes have become such a rage that most of us can’t spend a day without seeing, reading and enjoying them. While certain memes are genuinely funny and bring tears of laughter, some others- unfortunately- tend to become monotonous, stereotypical and target a single individual. The people listed here are all wonderful ambassadors of the game, and at times are “trolled” for the sake of trolling.

The following is a countdown of the most “trolled” people in the short, yet voluminous meme history:

Sydney Cricket Ground, March 2, 1992: 2nd Semi-final, England vs South Africa

The South African team of 1992 led by Keppler Wessels was an absolute revelation. Future greats of the game like Allan Donald, Daryll Cullinan and Gary Kirsten left their mark in the World Cup held Down Under. Oh! I forgot one Mr Jonty “Aeroplane” Rhodes. The team eased into the semifinals, winning 5 out 8 matches in the round robin stage. Set a target of 253 by England, the game was heading for a close finish with the Proteas needing a gettable 22 runs off 13 balls. Then, apocalypse struck. 12 minutes. That was all it took. 22 off 13 became an “OMG” 21 off 1 ball( Though the SCG scoreboard displayed it as 22 off 1 ball. Small consolation, though!). Had the D/L method existed back then, it would have been 4 to tie and 5 to win from one ball. And that too with a hard hitter Brian McMillan on strike, it could have been a “Lagaan” finish. Could have been.

National Stadium, Karachi, March 11, 1996: 3rd Quarter-final. West Indies vs South Africa

Though not in as ludicrous circumstances as in SCG, South Africa’s quarterfinal exit in the 1996 was avoidable. After winning all five games in the group stage which included Gary Kirsten scoring 36 runs more than the entire UAE team put together, the team had to face a below-par Windies team that had lost to Kenya earlier, in the quarter finals. The team got its tactics right by selecting 2 spinners. But the confounding omission of Allan Donald was a big, big self-imposed blow. Then a Trinidadian artist named Brian Lara took over the stage.  A blistering century which included 5 boundaries off a Pat Symcox over left the South Africans with an achievable target of 265. They lost by 19 runs. Fair and square. But the inexplicable omission of the White Lightning rankles the team’s faithfuls to this day. Not altogether dramatic, though. But then, all that would change, 3 years later.

Scene 1: Headingley, Leeds, June 13, 1999: 39th match, Super Sixes. Australia vs South Africa

The day before this match, Shane Warne said something very “trivial” to Steve Waugh. It was that Herschelle Gibbs had this peculiar habit of throwing the ball in celebration, immediately after catching it. Now, let’s fast-forward to the match. Riding on a brilliant century by none other than Gibbs, the Proteas set the Kangaroos a stiff target of 272 to win. The Aussies were reeling at 48-3 when Steve Waugh came to bat.On 56, Waugh smashed a ball straight to mid-wicket and it was eagerly pouched by Gibbs. Celebrations! Celebrations! OOPS! Wait a minute! Gibbs dropped it while celebrating prematurely. If ever there was a turning point, this was one. Waugh straightaway throws a dialogue that would have made even Al Pacino proud. “How does it feel to drop the World Cup, Herschelle?”. He then went on to score an unbeaten 120 and the Aussies snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. Nevertheless, the Proteas qualified to the semi-finals where they would meet the Aussies again.

Scene 2: Edgbaston, Birmingham, June 17, 1999: 2nd Semi-final. Australia vs South Africa

In my opinion, this was the greatest ODI match ever played. A brilliant 5 wicket haul by Shaun Pollock restricted the Aussies to 213. But then, “cometh the hour, cometh the man”. A mesmerizing spell by Shane Warne which included the “ball of the century” to dismiss a hapless Herschelle Gibbs meant that the game went right down to the wire with the South Africans needing a difficult 9 runs to win with one wicket left off the final over. But then, they had the eventual “Player of the Tournament”, Lance Klusener on strike. All 3 results possible. First ball. Four. Second ball. Four again. Klusener had just banged his way to victory. 1 required off 4 balls. The third ball almost saw an over enthusiastic Allan Donald being run out. The 2 batsmen had a mid-pitch talk. 1 off 3 balls. Klusener hit the ball straight to Mark Waugh at mid on and set off for an easy single. But oh god! Donald just kept watching the ball and never ran. By the time realisation struck him, it was too late and he was run out. The Proteas were out. The Aussies qualified as they had a superior record in the Super sixes. And that too, on net run-rate. Can things get any worse?

Scene 1: Newlands, Cape Town, February 9, 2003: Match 1. West Indies vs South Africa

This thrilling World Cup opener saw the Windies winning by 3 runs with yet another superb ton from Lara. South Africa was penalized for slow over rate and had to achieve their target in 49 overs. Had they batted the full quota, the result might have been different. And they paid for it dearly.

Scene 2: Kingsmead, Durban, March 3, 2003: Match 40. Sri Lanka vs South Africa

Sri Lanka, propelled by a Marvan Attapattu century, scored a respectable 229 in very overcast conditions in the last league match, which was also a must-win game for the hosts. Keeping in mind the imminent threat of rain, each batsman was given a table showing the runs required per ball in order to win by the D/L method. By the 45th over it was raining heavily. Consulting his D/L table, striker Mark Boucher found that 6 runs were required to win. He belted the penultimate ball for a six and fist pumped, believing it was job done. He casually flicked the last ball to the leg side and decided not to run as he believed victory was theirs. It was only a few minutes later that the entire team realized that the table showed the runs required to TIE the game and not to win it. South Africa was out of World Cup 2003. As was famously said, “The rain cheated the rainbow nation.” But then, if only their over rate was better against the Windies?

Gros Islet, St Lucia. April 25, 2007. 2nd Semi-final. Australia vs South Africa

World T20, 2007. Kingsmead, Durban. Match 24, Super Sixes, September 20, 2007. India vs South Africa

In the inaugural T20 World Cup, the South Africans looked U-N-B-E-A-T-A-B-L-E. They won both group matches convincingly. They won their super six clashes against England and  the Kiwis even more convincingly. Unless they lost in a calamitous fashion to India in their final group encounter, they had no mathematical chance of being knocked out. Well, so much for mathematics. After restricting India to 153, the hosts completely lost the plot. This is what happened thereafter.

11/1. 12/2. 12/3. 30/4. 31/5. 100/6. 103/7. 109/8. 111/9. 116 all out. The Proteas were out of the tourney after losing just ONE game. And that too, a non-knockout game. The Kiwis entered the Semis. After losing two games. Fate.

Trent Bridge, Nottingham. June 17, 2009. 1st Semifinal, World T20. Pakistan vs South Africa

Under the incredibly successful ex-manager of Swansea, Brendan Rodgers, the Merseysiders have adopted a playing style totally alien to the one under the Kenny Dalglish regime. The 4-3-3- cum-4-3-1-2 formation, which derives from the Barca-inspired “tiki-taka” style of football, puts a lot of emphasis on attack. With Stevie G given the license to prowl just behind the forwards, rival defenders have their hands full.

Brendan Rodgers

 THE TEAM.

Pepe Reina: The mercurial, yet not totally reliable Reina is among the most senior players of Liverpool. He holds the key to the team not losing out on valuable points. A world class goalie.

Pepe Reina

 Defense: Defense may well be the Achilles heel of Liverpool. With the decline of old warhorse Jamie Carragher, and the relative inexperience of Glen Johnson, it’s up to Martin Skrtel, Jose Enrique and Daniel Agger to shepherd the likes of Martin Kelly, Seb Coates and Jonjo Shelvey (who has a more attacking role). The loss of Lucas Leiva to injury for 2 months puts the onus of breaking the opposition attacks(in the midfield) on either Shelvey’s or Joe Allen’s shoulder.

Johnson, Skrtel and Agger

 Midfield: It is the new look midfield that holds a lot of promise for the Reds. The young Welshman, Joe Allen, is a player with world class potential. Though not in the mould of an Alonso, the diminutive youngster is a hard worker with great passing and tackling skills. But then, LFC have Alonso’s Bernabeau compatriot Nuri Sahin in midfield this season. How the Turk adjusts to the physicality of the English game would be interesting to see. Nevertheless, the presence of Sahin and Allen relieves Gerrard off the job of holding back during Liverpool attacks. Also, 17 yr old Raheem Sterling, if properly groomed, can give nightmares to defenders as was evident from his shows against Hearts and Manchester City. The other players, Downing, Henderson and Charlie Adam leave a lot to be desired though, if their past performances are taken into account. As for one Mr Steven Gerrard, well – A true legend.

Captain Courageous

 Attack: The transfer of Dirk Kuyt was a big blow to the team in the pre-season. But the addition of Fabio Borini adds much-needed sting to the forward line up. Also, there is the exciting proposition of unheralded Moroccan, Oussama Assaidi. If the much publicised love story between the brilliant Luis Suarez and the goalpost comes to an end, the fans have a lot to look forward to. The case of Andy Carroll, though, is unexplainable. The enigmatic striker’s fluctuating and uncertain performances mean that he is not indispensable to Rodgers’s scheme of things. Also, the prospect of either Theo Walcott or Ibrahim Afellay joining the club on transfer deadline day gives further hope to the Reds.

Borini and Suarez

Overall: Pepe Reina shouldn’t leave any margin for error. No blunders please, Pepe. The vulnerable defense needs to improve its man-marking in order to maintain clean sheets on a regular basis. It’ll take a few games to adapt to Rodgers’s playing philosophy but class players like Sahin and Allen shouldn’t take much time to settle. Also, the team should rectify its traditional frailties such as lacklustre performances against less-renowned teams, gifting unnecessary goals towards the fag end of the match and poor finishing. In Rodgers, they have a manager who can catapult the team into the top 4 by the end of this season. If the team plays consistently good football, a Champions League spot is possible. No, probable. YNWA.

]]> http://www.sportskeeda.com/2012/08/30/liverpool-fc-12-13-predictions/feed/ 0 058712