with a song on my lip and a stroke in her head

https://soundcloud.com/shraddha-radio/rave-lutionised-sheila-ki

Listen to this

I asked Jispa whether there was a song stuck in her hjead this time around. She said ‘no’. normally she hates me singing and especially before a swim. She says that the song gets stuck in the head and she finds it extremely irritating. And if I sing it then it gets stuck in my ugly tune. So she hates hates it. Normally I like to irritate her and continue to sing till she gets really upset but this time I didn’t dare to try. This time my baby was participating in the ultimate swim marathon. This is the third or fourth year that she has had the chance to take part. The last three years, something or the other had always come up. A cousin’s function, school sports day… something. This time she was it.

But since she has had a shoulder injury she hasn’t been training as intensively as before. So no morning swimming and a lighter workout. Around ten days back while I was discussing with the coach he had told me that he is sending Jispa for the marathon. That’s cool by me. I did not think much of it. I assumed Jasmine knew and I thought it was some time away. Jasmine came to know only a couple of days earlier and she was quite hyper. A MARATHON and I don’t even know she is participating. She went into overdrive, read all she could and tried to be ready for it.

For me the holy grail of all sports is not the sprint but it’s the marathon. A test of brute will power. The ability to keep fighting yourself, your muscles and your mind. A lot of things that keeps telling you to stop and something that keeps telling you to go on. I have run a few long distance runs especially thanks to the NCC training I got. The longer the distance the greater the will power needed. You are essentially running yourself. There is hardly any competition that you see. I had told Jispa that to my mind this is the best race for me. I will be by your side. We were held up in traffic and we missed the first time trial and we caught the second one. Jispa very easily lapped her nearest competitor. Then the girl in the lane next to her tried keeping pace with Jispa even though she was 50 meters down compared to Jispa.

Jispa started very well, she paced herself and took easy strokes and at a pace she thought she could sustain. I spoke to her coach and we agreed that it was sign of a strong mental makeup. Normally I don’t cheer, but this was a long race. 160 laps of a 25 meter pool. She went on and on. I saw that she saw me looking at her and I tried cheering her, egging her on. Before the race I had told her that I would be busy playing temple run. If you see me waving my phone at you then it means I am playing temple run while you kill yourself in the pool. Good natured laughing and ribbing later, while she walked to the starting block, she told Jasmine to tell me not to make her laugh. So when I was cheering her with a phone in my hand, I saw her laughing. Her coach told me ‘she is laughing’. “ya, that is at me. There are many pressures already on her. At least I removed the one that a father puts. We are having our private joke’.

It’s a fine line putting pressure and asking / pushing your child to perform. I told her it’s important to race this one, don’t worry. I was sure she could do it but at the same time I explained to her “see, if it pains think a little. If your muscles are paining, then carry on, that’s a good thing to fight. But if your shoulder injury acts up then stop immediately. You don’t want to injure your shoulder. Its ok.” but I wanted her to compete and wanted her to finish. So we kept cheering her on. She kept looking at me and I kept walking along the sides, making actions, urging her, asking her to stretch. In the middle she was telling something to Jasmine. I went to one end and she shouted out to me – its cold. Winter in Mumbai and we had unseasonal rain that day. The weather was cold and the Khar swim pool where this was held is on the third floor, near the sea line. This is known to be the coldest pool in Mumbai. I kept saying, its ok, fight it, it’s worth it. I not sure how much of my shouting she registered but she surely could see me encouraging her.

She and the girl in the lane adjacent kept pace with each other. Both trying to shake the other one out, pushing each other. It was a fine battle to be seen. But thanks to her start she was 50 meters ahead and it stayed that way till the end. So in the second time trial she finished well ahead of the pack. If we had made it in time she would swam with her seeds and would have had a better timing. She finished fourth overall with a time of around 63 minutes. Wow. I know guys in my office (and chicks) who just wouldn’t be able to even walk that much in that time.

But what struck me is that the other parents put so much pressure on the kids. Some of the other medal winning kids were sitting glum. Because their parents were unhappy with their timing. WHAT. I wanted to shove them into the freezing pool and check their reactions. After Jispa came out she said she couldn’t feel her arms. Her arms from shoulder to wrist were frozen and she said in the middle of the swim she couldn’t feel them so she was jerking and throwing them to wake them up. Now that builds character. She got out and we rushed her to the changing room for her to relax under the hot shower. In such circumstances can you say anything to your kid? I don’t know. I can’t say thing else but ‘awesome job’. I cant understand, after completing a swim like this shouldn’t you be basking and soaking it all in. After all you just swam four kilometers in an hour.

I am sure if she had swum in the first time trail she would have finished amongst the medal tally. But freaking cares that much? It’s ok. I am happy. Possibly this was a blessing. This was good. At that level these kids start pushing each other and the undercurrent of competitiveness comes out and who know – an injury! So we are especially happy parents.

I told Jispa “really well swum. And I don’t normally say it, but yes, you swam really nice.”. She also said “ya, I know you normally don’t say it. Thanks. You really liked my swim”. “yes”. Awesome.

I asked her afterwards if she did see us. Yes. And she took encouragement from us. she laughed as she thought I was teasing her with the cell in my hand. Well I wasn’t, but hell, did the laughing helped? Ya. And the walking up and down as well. That was like a pace clock. So that’s good. She couldn’t hear anything but she knew I was encouraging her. Was that good – yes it was perfect. Thanks. And at the end – was there a song stuck in your head. No. then what were you thinking? I had told her to think of a marathon as a meditation exercise. Keep trying to correct your position. See your arms, body legs. Keep swimming and try to be technically correct. Get your rhythm going. She said “I kept thinking about my strokes and kept trying to keep them going good”. What more can I ask for.

this is how you do the tumble turn. The fun is when you have to do it 160 times and every 45 seconds. You have to blow hard when you turn over else the water goes in your nose. So you cant be out of breath during the entire 4 kms.

This one is just for kicks!

turn it around

A ha. We successfully organized the Matunga gymkhana open swim meet. A grand success by any measure and people came on congratulating us. It was an experience like none before in any meet of any kind in the city. The people were mesmerized and couldn’t stop talking about it. The swimming department now walks with a little extra bounce in their steps. But when you coldly step back and look at it, what was it actually that made it so big. The swimming pool on the day belonsg to the officials. At every meet you have the same commentator, the same officials and the same events. Ours was also the same. But the difference lied in the packaging. There were large banners outside welcoming the participants and at the entrance was the clincher – the greeters. Borrowed from a bit from Walmart and a bit from the Singapore immigration authorities. At Walmart you have greeters when you come in to shop. At most other immigration checks they give you a cold stare, but at Singapore there is a bowl of fox sweets greeting you. In line with that we had apples and bananas awaiting all participants. So at the entrance a team was waiting with the fruits. In addition we gave them a folder with the schedule. And if that was not enough we also gave them two iron rich bars which we bought from an NGO. So that just shook them out. We then put enough cut outs around the place and just before the swimming pool a huge massive 36X6 banner greeted them. All these were of course done in corporate style with amazing visuals. With so much stimulation at the start, I left very little at the main pool area. That was taken over by the sponsors. We also gave space to a pro shop, a free stall for the isotonic drink guys to freely sample their products and some other stuff.

For those expecting a boring placid swim meet were completely shocked. There was shade all around with the pandals being erected and fans installed. I was rather amused by the reactions of the people. I thought this was par for the course. This stuff is simple. Like the checkerboard backdrop against the winner’s podium got a lot of comments and people thought it was really cool and ‘IPL style’.

I can still think of a million different things that I want changed from next time around. I want a different way to submit entries. I want to email stuff and want IDs, I want to have a better registration, I want better side games for the kids, I want a relaxing lounge, I want a winners picture booth,  I want flowers for the winners, I want better food stalls selling better food and drink for the champions, I want better invites, etc etc… a lot is still left to be done. The dream is to have a small souvenir shop for the event as well, selling high quality merchandise branded – the Matunga Gymkhana Open Swim Meet. That will be so bloody cool. That’s when the brand will be really built.

Ah well. I am a dreamer. But only if you can dream it can you possibly do it. Dream on. There are so many things to be done at this meet. Next year I am definitely going to ask for a bigger budget. I will have a better campaign to bring in the entries and hype the bloody thing before the event. I want to run it in style. Raise the bar so much that people have no clue what to expect next. I want to make it really really BIG.

But while I am talking about the event… I too took part in one race. The under 40 men’s freestyle. In my time trial I dived in and swam really fast. I reached the other side and turned. Not knowing the tumble turn I wasted precious seconds. While coming back I was tiring and slowing down. I hadn’t eaten well and the energy was sapping. I emerged second best by a small margin. I then heard the commentator explaining that I messed up the turn and lost there. I saw the video and everybody also told me – I was leading till the turn. My daughter was at the finish line waiting for me. She greeted me and took the time from the officials. She told me – not bad –“you did 37 seconds. You did two seconds better than your last time”. She was doing a Jaimit to me. Okies.

I always wanted to learn the tumble turn. But I tried it once and the water just rushed into my brain. I hated it. Jispa kept telling me to learn but I just couldn’t try. Now I have additional incentive. My knees have robbed me of my running victories but I guess I found another race. Tumble turn it is then. To learn the tumble turn and to push myself hard.  Jispa keeps telling me to learn but because I have the power in the equation I am unable to push myself. If the roles were reversed I would have harassed her, but the poor thing can’t do that to me. I must set that example and do it. I must learn the tumble turn. It’s not just about the turn but it also my duty as a parent to show that I can do it. It an example.

Because its there

On Saturday Jispa had her sports day. She is a nice light tall runner. I have a lot of problems with her running style but have learnt not to correct them. She seems to be jumping around taking strides longer than natural. I think she loses too much energy and effort in her bid to run faster. But nevertheless – she struck three golds. The max possible. The 50 meter dash, 200 M and the relay.
A few weeks back, she told us that from this year onwards she has a 200M race. It involves a circular track and she was wondering why not all the kids start on the same line. I explained the dynamics of length alongside a curve to her. I also told her that for her good, its probably the best thing to be at the innermost circle. This way, she would always be trying to catch up and suddenly on the last curve she would turn the fastest and find herself in an amazing lead. Being on the outer curve gives the illusion on being in the lead at the start and one could possibly slow down.
When we saw the race on Saturday, we realized that the 200M race allowed for lane change from the start itself. They only gave curved starting line a la the 1500M race. But she was still starting from the inside lane and she ran well to win. She tailed till around the 100M mark, which was more due to the staggered starting line than anything else. Pretty cool. She also ran the first leg of the relay to give her team a good lead which they comfortably held on to, actually increased it, till the end.
Then came the father’s events. I had my knee jammed a few weeks back playing squash. It’s an old injury which somehow came back to haunt me. Basically I twisted my right knee and my ligaments became loose. I had been half nursing the knee. A few days back Jasmine asked me if I was participating and I said no way. She seemed cock sure I would be. She asked me a couple of time more in the days coming upto the event. She did seem a bit eager. On the event day she even kept abreast of the schedule. She seemed so keen that I decided to run. Love is blind and combined with vanity it is completely stupid. Wearing my knee cap I trudged towards the starting line. Ready to run dude. Ready to run. The heart rate moves up a bit in anticipation. The Mind is focused on the finishing line. You take the track line that seems to offer less gravel. It’s a relatively less crowded line. I began observing how the guy was giving the clap. What is the giveaway. As he is about to slap the boards he first takes them slightly away before bringing them together. That’s your cue. That split second gives you the start faster than others. Impossible to catch and perfectly legal. Your muscles just push the ground a spit second faster. I pushed off the starting line. Legs pushing up and hitting the ground hard. Only the ball of the foot and toes hitting the ground. I was in a comfortable lead. Running hard, I felt an effortless glide. It was one of my best runs. I was enjoying every moment of it. Half way through I could see no one beside me, and I also contemplated slowing down for the final leg, till I felt a twitch. My knee. Dam. My knee. The muscles had come lose around it. STOP. There is no glory in walking out of the stadium in a crutch. I stopped and walked off the track. I did it. I screwed my knee completely.
No regrets though. I started well, I ran really nice and I would have won. That’s all I need. And in the process I just pushed my knee recovery a few weeks. Worth it. In mind I stay on as the fastest father. What else do I need? A little bit of prudence, possibly? Next time.
Winning at 36 feels good. When I entered college I was 58kgs with a 28 inch waist. I feel ill often enough. I had no muscles and a really wiry frame. My god I was a thin weakly child. I loved sports but wasn’t fit enough to follow through on it. It’s taken a lot many years to come to a winning position. In my cricket team there is a player who even played Ranji in his heyday. He is now a pale shadow, he put on weight and I outscore him. I got a bit better over the years and the others simply deteriorated. For some people life blooms late.
I never thought I would swim, play squash, cricket or run this much, so late in my life… and actually be half decent at it. It’s a dream I am living. And so when people asked me after the event why did I run, or why would I want to spend half the day in a hot sun laying cricket, or why would I get into the pool early morning in the cold. What can I tell them? What answer do I give?
George Mallory is famously quoted as having replied to the question "Why do you want to climb Mount Everest?" with the retort "Because it's there", which has been called "the most famous three words in mountaineering. I guess no one will understand a real reason and this is the best answer to give.
I play because is there to play. I run because I have legs to run.

I won... sheesh

Last Saturday was Jispa’s annual sports meet. This is a good time for most of us peleb to catch u[p on what celeb look like in real life. The high points of getting your child to a school which even the celebs prefer. What a pain. Here you will have all the normal mothers going gaga over the celebs and wanting to photograph them and be photographed with them. I am sure it’s quite a pain for the celeb. But as some other mini celeb (friend) told me, these stars would become even more insecure if no one approached them! Haha. The life of a goldfish perhaps!
Honestly I find pretty juvenile when the mothers approach these fellas for the photograph. I am happy and content to beat them in the fathers race. Speaking of which, I continued my winning streak at this race as well. it was pretty boring. There seems to be no real competition in my peer set. A tennis sport celeb (one of the celebrated doubles players) who obviously is pretty fit and fast has a kid ina lower age standard and hence does not compete with me. It would have been mighty fun to race against him. My race I dominated, lead from the start and had no real competition. This time I walked away with a bored and under achieved feeling as well. Last year I had worked on my technique, I had high foot lift, I ran on toes, I ran fast all through etc etc. This time I felt my technique was all wrong. I was lazy in the run to the event. This clearly showed me the power of simple preparations, trial runs, muscle memory and visualisations. One has to keep visualising how to play, how to run, what to do in a situation for one to be better at it. I won but it did not seem to fit all together. Somehow the legs did not know what really to do like last year. This time also ego got to me. Half way into the run I could see there was no real competition. I slowed down considerably towards the end of the run. Too many thoughts crossed my mind. Should I just walk across the finish line to show off, should I relax, should I .... what on earth was happening. EGO the main enemy of sport, the chance to show off in front of an audience. And all this in a mere 75 meter race? Dam shit. I took 10.25 seconds. Drat. If not for ego I should have done in max to max 9 seconds. Now that’s a good race. Pumping hard, the toes barely touching, hard push!
Jispa asked me how my race was. I told her I won but I was all wrong. No fun in winning without real technique. Next year I am determined to do better. Determined to run right. I play to wear the right stuff, tracks instead of jeans and better shirt than the loose flowing full sleeves t shirt I wore in sheer arrogance. It does not matter that I won, I am still hurting at the arrogance that I showed. Dam. This something I have always maintained. Sport is internal, you play for yourself, against yourself with you as your main competitor. Who cares about anyone else. That’s what makes swimming so interesting for me. I swim against myself every day. Even when I play cricket or squash. Who cares what the opponent is. It’s you playing yourself. After teaching Jispa all this about competition and me being stoic during her swimming competition the same day later, I made the same bloody error. Gallery! I think it comes close to ‘pride’ but I think deserves a mention by itself as the eight sin ‘show’.
Talking about encouraging your kids, after the sports day Jispa attended a swimming meet. There you always get whacko mothers shouting to their wards ‘PULL,PULL, PULL, KICK, KICK’. What the hell. They are standing at eth edge of the pool and shouting themselves hoarse. You even get father doing the same. Inside the pool is your champion going to hear you. Should your champion hear you or be in a zone all by himself. He is supposed to focus on his technique, the strokes and blank out everything. A huge quiet and calm. Whenever I have done well in cricket or any other sport. There is a huge quiet that descends over me. I can feel nothing, hear nothing, know nothing. I have been in that zone a few times. It does not matter what anyone is shouting. In fact if someone is being specific to you it irritates else lots of other noise just adds to the ‘silence’.
The last few times I ran I was oblivious to competition, to the crowd, I could only feel the ground being pushed under, I could only feel that I was all alone. I couldn’t think of anything except the finish line. Wow. And compare that to this time when I practically wrote a story in the ten seconds it took me to finish the race. Sheesh.
The zone is not something that comes automatically. You have to work on it. Think it through. Be prepared for it. Work on it and then in the middle it arrives. The muscles know what to do, the body knows where to move. Everything falls into place. Then you play as if an angel is inside of you. All falling into place. Effortlessly.
Hmm. Jispa goes to play squash on Saturday and Sunday. I use it to run the treadmills at the gymkhana. Let me see if I can work into that zone there itself. I think it’s possible. Coming to think of it, this Sunday, I had it at the treadmill for a few minutes, I was running beautifully. But somehow I look around and feel someone is looking at me. That’s when it breaks. I must pretty egocentric that I visualise people looking at me. I have to be above all this. Sport will probably help me. Keep me and my inflated head in check. Keep it down, simple and straight. Easier said than done.
I am sometimes afraid that even my humility might be a show. An act that is designed to make me look humble in front of people. Do I have genuine humility? Even at times. Can I help someone purely to help someone without any expectation of anyone looking at me, thinking about me or having an expectation of nice feelings? Be completely above it all. Is that possible? I believe it so. Difficult but not unachievable.

Before you learn to win you must learn to lose

It is so important to lose right. You might get more learnings out of losing than possibly out of winning. At least that has always been the case for me. And if the stakes aren’t that high, I dare say, it is fun losing.
As a kid we sued to play a lot of games. Cricket, badminton, volley ball, basketball etc. Cricket in the narrow lanes of Mumbai was a speciality. Cricket is a stupid sport in the sense, that a lot is required of an umpire. You can’t really play until you have an umpire. So we would divide ourselves into two teams and start the game. The batting team would need to nominate an umpire. This by design resulted in huge conflict of interest. It was a zero sum game for the umpire. His team wanted him to give decisions in their favour while the other team at the least requested for a neutral approach. In so many cases there will be split judgements involved. Things like caught behind and run outs were especially contentious. There was no way it would end fair. To add to the conflict of interest, it was in the umpire’s interest to get his won guys out as well, if he wanted batting. Then came the issues of no balls, catches which are taken close to ground, the scores and the number of balls left/ delivered in the over. The really contentious ones like leg before wicket, which is completely reliant on the umpires judgement were simply banned from street cricket. For the street bullies this mode of getting out was simply thrown out.
The decisions would come under greater scrutiny when an important batsman would be batting. The opposite team will bay for blood and appeal like crazy, and the umpire will have severe stress not to give out. While when you play domestic matches, matches that are played within your own team, the decisions tend to be fairer. But in case you have a match with some opposite team, the fight levels can climb. And if a ball or something like that is at stake, then fights last for really long and tempers flare.
The cricket rules are also so numerous that sometimes different interpretations seem equally logical. Street football is so much better. There are no real rules except goal posts, the goalie D and handball. Everything else is permitted and no one heard of anything called off side.
Since we are a cricket playing city, fights were de rigueur. And in tournaments they were intense. I was naturally competitive and I had an acute sense of fairness. I would not tolerate injustice, especially if it was done to us. So argument on scores, run out and the lot was something I was routinely involved in. but there were some kids who were known for arguments. They could never be given out unless all their stumps were shattered. Run outs did not exist for them. They were generally the trouble makers and they usually resulted in the game being abandoned. It was crazy. I was midpoint between them and the centre. In other words I was an ass.
My brother, as is with everything that is me, was sitting on the other opposite fence happily looking at the ensuing tamasha. More then once he pulled me aside from the group when I was arguing, ‘why are you fighting? Is there a trophy? Is this a major tournament? does you life depend on this?’. I don’t know when, but certainly not immediately, the penny dropped.
I don’t argue too much with any official. I really don’t care too much about wining matches. It’s the fun thing. I like to play with people who don’t argue too much. Otherwise its just spoils the whole point of the game. Even today when we adults come together and play anything, be it a board game or anything… I rather have fun trying to decipher the various permutations and combinations rather than try and win every game. Sure I like to win but its more fun playing the combinations. I really don’t understand adults trying their best to win at a board game. Trying and scheming and fighting. It’s good for them. It’s good for me as well. It makes the game fun to watch, but then at some point it irritates. Some of them are so childish. They just don’t get the point. Now they are adults so they cannot openly fight but you can see the fight inside of them. Some can’t even accept graciously. And when I win, they assume that I am playing tough. I am just playing fun. I am trying to understand the game. If I get an interesting play I don’t keep it to myself, I try and decipher it for the others. I like to discuss it. This would only help reinforce their belief that I am a real fighter. Oh god.
I used to be like that. I used to love to win. I have changed so much over the ensuing years. The aggression is still there, it’s just better channelled elsewhere.
I keep trying to explain to Jispa that winning is not everything. Yes, when we play we want to win, we try to win, but the aim is not to win. It is to play properly. Get your technique right. Get your teamwork going. Learn from every game. Winning is a by product of stuff that we do. On Jispa party on Saturday we had devised a treasure hunt. It sounds like a great idea but we got mixed up. I thought that the adults would play with the kids. I thought the adults would make the kids understand the game and solve the treasure clues together. We even built in the use of a compass and gave the clues directional bearings. It was fun. But the poor kids just ran around. I don’t think the adults knew how to handle a compass, let alone make the kids understand. So while the adults loved it, the kids probably got a bit tired and bored. And when I wanted the adults to play some games with the kids after the treasure hunt, the adults were too tired while the kids loved it.
I just love the chance to play with the kids. I don’t understand how you can let go of the chance to play with them. I am here, getting them all together devising the games and trying to get them to have fun. All you have to do is show up and show some enthusiasm. I don’t know. Adults like to talk. We get together and talk. Yappity yapp yapp. Use your body, worst case… use your brains. Yapitty yapp yapp… yuck.
Coming back to winning. Jispa was in a team that came in first. There was one clue that all the teams struggled on. We had to give the answer out. For some that clue came in second, for some it came in fifth and so on. At one point all of them were stuck on that clue. So we helped them with the answer. Some poor teams spent an hour before we gave the answer and some poor teams spent about 30 minutes before gave them the answer. As a leveller, I docked the 30 min team 15 minutes as a fairness measure. So as Jispa came in I said you penalty is 15 minutes. Some understood and some just did not. The desire to win supersedes all. Jispa refused to understand. She was almost getting upset. Later after the party I explained to her “kid, its your party. Number one – try not to win in your own party; number two – when a great sportsperson comes to write against your name. He writes not whether you won or lost but how you played your game. Play hard by al means. But please don’t play with winning as your only motivation. Laugh when you win and laugh a lot more when someone else wins. Help others. Learn from other at all points. Concentrate on the technique and game. Winning is not everything.” I also warned her that if I ever see her behaving in an unsportsmanlike manner I will get her off that sport. Respect the game.
Jasmine then remembered a video she saw on facebook. It was of Derek Redmond. Favoured to do well in the 1992 Olympics, while running the 400 meters he tore his hamstring. He fell, cried in pain but got up to hobble and complete the race. His dad also ran on the track to help him complete. Some videos on youtube talk about the relationship and the fact that his dad came in. I see no merit in that. if my daughter also were to fall on the track, my instinct would also be to help her. Nothing unusual about it. But when I saw the video tears dropped. The pain and the agony and yet to hold on to it to finish what you came to start. We showed that to Jispa. It matter not whether you win or lose, but how you played your game. He came to win for sure, but more importantly he came in to compete and for that he had to finish the race.
I like the way Steve Waugh never ever asked for a runner. He did not believe that if you are injured then you need a runner for you. I too hate the concept in cricket. I will bat and hit the ball all over while some one will run for me. Bull. Complete bull. I don’t ever remember asking for a runner ever. I don’t want to ask for one as well. Anil Kumble got hit on his mouth while playing in West Indies. He came on to bowl all strapped up. Sure he did. He is a champion bowler. That’s his job. But people miss that he also came to bat. He is not a batsman. That was not his job; there was no glory in that for him, nothing to embellish his record there.
Here is the Derek video.


See this one. Listen what he says himself. At first he thought he was shot or something. After a few seconds he realised he was in the Olympic semi finals, so he just had to get up and run.

wadaday

This Saturday was a long and tough day. I woke up early for Jispa to go to school for her sports day. After dropping her and catching breakfast jasmine and me too went for her sports day. It was quite hot and was a day for the parents to socialize, I guess. It was eye candy day for the mothers as well with Shah Rukh and Farhaan Akhthar (parents) turning up. Good family picnic. Jispa ran fast as usual and won her 50 meter dash. Though she did slow down in the end. Enough to give me a little bit of an anxious moment. In the parents race, I won this time again. Though the margin of victory was much smaller. 60 meter dashin around 7.9 seconds. Need to shave off at least a second to be faster. Also given the large number of false early starts that everyone does, it’s stupid to wait for the whistle. Next time I am running before the whistle. There – saved half a second there itself. Of all things I sprained my right shoulder while running. RIGHT SHOULDER? from a 60 meter dash? What shit is that? But if that was not enough read on.
I then got out and rushed for my cricket match at the other end of town. It was very hot and I switched on the A/C in the car. I knew that I would not get enough time to warm up so I kept it on and off at regular intervals. BIG MISTAKE. I parked and got off the car, picked up my kit (a bit heavy) and made a dash for the ground. There I strained my left side back muscle. Oh man. Fielding with it was horrible. But I guess I fielded better. Pain improves your concentration and helps you focus better. TIP OF THE DAY – smash yourself with a bat and then go on to the cricket field the next time. Luckily we won without me having to bat. That would have been terrible.
In Mumbai, cricket is mainly played at the maidans. That means matches are played with the boundaries overlapping each other. There is another pitch within your 30 yard circle. I was fielding at covers while being next to the short square leg or short cover of the other match, depending on the side they were bowling from. With the hard cricket ball, it’s a dangerous thing to do. You just hope that he does not hit a shot your way while you have been focusing on your match. I remember thinking, shit, I could get hit, I could die here. Hmm, the last blog was on dharma. Interesting blog to be the last one!. Serious. one gets philosophical on cricket grounds, especially when you are likely to be hit. The batsman on the other match was really good and he hit some real hard shots. See the image below. Those grounds are really close with matches on all the time.
With these uneven grounds you don’t even require someone to hit you from behind. Your own match can kill you. I was fielding off the square and the ball was hit to me real hard. I bent down and thanks to the uneven bounce I got hit on my thumb. Its still sore.
Then we went to a friends place for a get together that was to last late. Suddenly everyone wanted to go for a movie – Marley & me. 11.05pm show. It ended at 1 am. Was I dead at the end of it all? What a day.