Catch-up #13

I know, I know. It's been ages since I last blogged.

I have been crazy busy.

I mean, I have always been crazy busy. I have loved keeping myself crazy busy. But this is another level altogether. I am crazy busy.

This is the first time in my career that I have been bringing work home and sleeping late and doing all the things that I have never done in 16 years and chided other people for doing. It's partly to do with the fact that I need to dash out from work at 5 pm so I can get to Xena's after-school studentcare to pick her up before they start charging me. (No, I'm not kidding. If parents are late, they treat the kids like parked cars that have overstayed their welcome and start charging late fees by the minute. I think it's a dollar a minute for the first 15 minutes and then two dollars a minute thereafter. Or something like that. No, I would not like to find out the exact details.)

So I spend all day in meetings and discussions and when it's time for me to get to my desk and look at some proofs or answer some emails, it's 5 pm. So now I gather all my proofs and dash out, and work on them after putting Xena to bed at night. I answer emails from the bus (but not for too long because I get motion-sick if I look at my phone for more than 2-3 minutes; it's a blessing actually).

But this is all temporary. At least that's what I am hoping. Once I find my groove, it will get better. A full-time job with strict time constraints is new to me and I'm still kinda finding my footing. On the brighter side, I'm loving being back in the office, in the thick of things, amidst all the action, so that's really awesome.

In other news, Xena turned 8 last weekend. I still cannot believe it. How can I have an 8-year-old? It's supposed to be the most obnoxious age, isn't it? Smart-mouth brats is what they all become at that age, don't they? I once had an 8-year-old watch me cut a heart-shaped cake and dryly remark, "That's not how you cut a heart-shaped cake." "I made this cake and I'll cut it exactly how I want to cut it." I told her. Seriously?! Hmmmph! I'll cut my cake with a hammer if I have to! (Hopefully not; I'm not that bad a baker.)

But it's true. From my experience with countless annoying 8-year-olds, it is the worst kid age. I'm really hoping that Xena skips the obnoxious stage. After all, she did completely skip the terrible twos and threenage. Oh well. Fingers crossed.

In other news, I bought myself a cool knee brace online which has helped me get back to skating with minimal pain. I have a few more skills and stunts left to pass before I graduate!

This is me trying my hand (feet?) at the most difficult level 5 skill (toe-heel transition).



I thought I was being such a badass, until my coach told me this is just step 1 of the skill. The full skill involves skating forward on one toe and one heel, spinning on the spot and continuing to skate on one toe and one heel, but backwards! This emoji sums up my feelings towards it very well. 

But I am trying hard, and if some day I am able to do it, I hope someone's around with a camera.

Continuing the sporty news, Viv has embarked on something very cool in our neighbourhood. He has started a girls' football club! Basically, it's for girls who want to play football but don't want to play with the boys because they are too rough. So now he's got a full paltan of girls aged 5-9 whom he coaches every Tuesday. (I get asked this all the time so I'll answer: yes, these are free sessions.) I hang around to help him because sometimes the group gets so big we have to split it up to do the drills. But frankly speaking, I'm quite useless when it comes to actual football knowledge or skills, so I let him do most of the work.

But I have to say that watching him and the girls gives me major Chak De vibes.

Except that this is him, the cool coach...

...And I suppose this is me, the sarkaari lady.

So Tuesday evenings have now become absolutely insane as both of us rush back from work/school, change, get Xena ready, pick up all the props and dash for the field. A friend of mine shared this picture the other day and I could NOT relate it to MORE. 

THIS.IS.ME.EVERY.TUESDAY.

But like I said before, it will get better. It's just a case of finding my groove. I will draw the line at this. I won't take up anything else at the moment. After all, April's coming and Viv's going to be away for his annual teerth yatra to the U.S. and I don't know how I'm going to get three dabbas (they are all for Xena, by the way) and one kid and myself ready and leave the house by 6:35 am without him to help me. So yes, I will not take on anything else for now.

But oh, there's just one little thing.

April is coming and with April comes... the A-Z blogging challenge.

 

The little keeper

So here's the post I'd promised, with all of Xena's contributions and commentary on the recent SEA Games. (Sorry, it took me a while to get all the photos and videos and her quotes together.)

Aside from Viv's nightly post-work training sessions and practice matches in the weekends, once in a while we'd find time to take a stroll to the beach. I'd give him some catching and keeping practice and of course, Xena didn't want to stay behind! I captured these slow-mo videos of her 'training Daddy how to play very well'.

Once he reached Kuala Lumpur, she even asked me to take a photo of her like this and said, "Mama, send this to Daddy and tell him this is how a good wicket-keeper should squat."

I had told her that she could watch the opening ceremony and Viv's matches on the computer, so she was really thrilled. She's still TV-free so this was a major event for her. 

7.56 pm (4 minutes to SEA Games opening ceremony)
Xena - Mama, I really need to pee.
Me - Then go!
Xena - But I can't!
Me - Why not??
Xena - I don't want to miss seeing Daddy!
Me - You have time. It only takes a minute to pee.
Xena - Mama, are you sure??
Me - :|

Once the matches started, so did her hilarious commentary.

"Mama, there are four people crouching like frogs behind the batting uncle. So they are all frogs. Daddy is the wicket-keeper so he has to crouch very low. So he is the baby frog."

As the matches got more and more exciting, I really craved some adult company to watch and discuss them. Not that my knowledge of cricket is that great, but surely I had more insightful input than Xena who would point squarely at the wicket-keeper from Thailand and tell me very seriously, "Mama, the Thai frog is not cute. Our frog is cuter."

She also had some very serious questions for me -- "Mama, tell me something. Why can't the batsman get the bowler out?"

Another gem from her after a match that really should have been an easy win, but wasn't -- "Mama, you know, Singapore was losing and then it just accidentally won."

From time to time, I'd explain to her why I was behaving like a crazy person, screaming at the screen, closing my eyes, or minimising the window and walking out, or hyperventilating.

"Xena, if we win this match, we will win the GOLD MEDAL!"

"Mama, will everyone in the team get a medal or only the captain?"

"Everyone will get a medal."

"Yay! Daddy Froggy will get a medal!"

Whenever I'd message Viv, I'd ask her if she wanted to send him a message. She'd say something like, "Mama, tell Daddy Froggy that Baby Froggy says 'Ribbit!'"

She asked me to google Thailand's flag so her drawing would be accurate.

She'd also make lots of drawings to encourage the team and I'd send them over, such as this team picture. She was too tired to draw all the Param brothers (yes, there are three brothers in the team!) so she drew one and wrote x3. Viv told me it was a source of much amusement for the team when he shared it with them. 

Once the series was over, she couldn't wait for him to get back. She had missed him badly because he'd been away at training a lot in the months preceding the Games as well. So it had been a long separation between Daddy Froggy and Baby Froggy. 

She posed with this book and asked me to send it to Viv. 

I told her how we'd be going to the airport to receive and welcome our champions, and she excitedly proclaimed, "Mama, I am going to shake all the players' hands and I'm going to hug all of them and I'm going to pick all of them up but no I can't pick all of them up because they are so heavy but I can pick Uncle J (the youngest player in the team) up because he's only 17."

The Froggy reunion at the airport was a sight to see. She clung on to him and very shyly shook hands with the rest of the team.

Baby Froggy poses with Daddy Froggy's gold and silver medals. 

The gold standard

So something super-duper-awesome happened over the last two weeks.

Viv was selected to be part of the Singapore national cricket team to play in the SouthEast Asian games (SEA Games) in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. This was the first time cricket was included in the SEA Games, and they had a 50-over and a T20 series. The countries playing also included Thailand, Myanmar, Vietnam and Indonesia, but Singapore's arch nemesis was mighty Malaysia.

I didn't go to Kuala Lumpur for the matches as it would have been impossible for Xena to sit still and watch all the matches in the heat. Luckily, the Malaysian Cricket Association livestreamed all the matches, so we watched it on the computer. Xena, who is still TV-free, was very excited to have the opportunity to watch her daddy play. (I'll do a separate post on her hilarious remarks and commentary.) Because he's the wicket-keeper, we had a clear view of him the entire time Singapore was fielding. He did well, getting four stumpings and a catch overall (plus a stumping that wasn't given out, and I'm still half-sore over that.)

Both countries reached the finals of the 50-over series which was played first, but Malaysia edged us out for gold. It was nice to get the silver, but we were all slightly disappointed because aakhir gold toh gold howe hai... nahin? Now all our hopes were pinned on getting the gold in the T20 series. (Bollywood drama queen that I am, I asked Viv to please listen to SRK's 'Sattar minute' speech for inspiration before the match, and the poor guy actually complied. What a keeper -- wicket- and otherwise.)

And what a nail-biting final it was. My heart was literally in my mouth. The match literally ended at the second last ball, and... Singapore got GOLD! I have been screaming non-stop since, and on some level, I think I'm still screaming on the inside. This was Singapore's first ever cricket gold in an international competition, and hence, a very very very big deal. Like Aamir Khan said in Dangal, "Agar silver jeete toh aaj nahi toh kal log tanne bhool javenge ... gold jeete toh misaal ban javenge ... aur misaalein di jaati hai, bhooli nahi jaati."

(And why did I never mention a thing on the blog all this while? Because I'm a person of science and people of science do not believe in jinxing themselves. Erm, except when their spouse is playing for the country. Hehe!)

So now that it's all over, and has ended on a high note, and Viv is home with two gigantic medals, I can finally get my original heart rate back and blog about everything. He just got home yesterday and what a reception the team got at the airport! (I plucked Xena off school early so she could go to the airport with me and shake hands with everyone in our golden team.)

Our immediate and extended families have, of course, gone completely bonkers. My aunts (who I've always suspected like Viv more than they like me) are making statements like "Arre we don't care if he got a gold or a silver. He's always been a diamond to us." Wah wah.

We have, of course, been celebrating nonstop. Within hours of his landing, our neighbours had thrown him a welcome party. That was a real surprise. People he had never met before came down with their kids to shake his hand and take photos with him and hold and wear and admire the medals. A lady whose son is a big cricket fan came to drop off a bottle of wine. It was fabulous. Viv generally likes to remain low-key, so it was a pleasant surprise to see him in the spotlight, being treated like a celebrity. (I swear I felt like Gauri Khan at one point.)

Viv's hard work and dedication aside, it's not been easy for Xena and me either. He already travels a fair bit for work, and to have him away so much for cricket training or matches means that I can never truly get away from holding down the job, the kid and the household. Our family time has definitely been compromised a lot, simply because of the immense amounts of time the game of cricket takes. Unlike football or badminton or tennis, each cricket match already takes the whole day, and add to that, all the training sessions. Most of his weekends basically went into cricket, while Xena and I made our own separate plans. It was difficult but then you can't make an omelette without breaking a couple of eggs, can you?

I know Viv feels the guilt of missing out on Xena's childhood too. Two years ago, he was seriously contemplating retiring, but in spite of my selfish interests, I had to disagree. Here's the thing. How many of us in our 30s pursue a hobby so passionately that we are willing to put in that kind of crazy hours? How many of us have hobbies that automatically keep us fit? And I'm so glad that he continued playing at the club level all these years. If he had been out of touch, there is no way he would have been selected to represent Singapore at the SEA games.

Here are some more photos from the SEA Games cricket matches, which feature Viv.

Bhatt of jokes

It's been quite a few weeks since the bar had a 'video of the week', and here's the perfect video for the comeback.

Is she cool or is she cool?

❤️Alia❤️

E is for Extreme

We had some friends over a few days ago and somehow sky-diving came up in our conversation. A chill ran down my spine. Honestly speaking, extreme sports are not for me. I am the kind of person who classifies even roller-coaster rides under extreme sports. Not that I'm scared of heights the way Viv is (he can't look down 20-storeys from a balcony without feeling queasy), but I'm just scared of downward-moving fast-moving things over which you have little, if any, control. I'm the chicken that the simulated (yes, you read that right!) ride at Universal Studios scared the living daylights out of. I kid you not. They had this slide and because in a simulation you don't need laws of physics or something, it was impossibly steep and fast. I knew I was sitting in a chair and not really going down the slide of death, but I shut my eyes tightly. And I breathed a sigh of relief when it ended and I found myself alive. Laugh all you want, but I can tell you honestly that I found the mummy ride less scary than the Simpsons ride.

In February 2007, Viv and I were on our road trip honeymoon in New Zealand. It is a beautiful beautiful place, and Queenstown was my absolute favourite. Not because it's famous for extreme sports, but simply because of how scenic it was. We did go for the Shotover jet ride, which is a crazy jetboat ride through the canyons of the Shotover river. It was pretty scary but then there were a bunch of people with us and the driver really looked like he knew what he was doing, so I wasn't that scared. We also tried out the luge. Back then, Singapore didn't have the luge, so this was a big deal. And so was the open cable car ride which you had to take by yourself to get on the luge. So here they were, the three extreme sports that I was willing to try out in Queenstown.

That's me, fearfully raising my hand to wave at the camera.

That's me on the world's steepest roller coaster.

Both Viv and I drew the line at bungy jumping, but just before leaving Queenstown, we decided to drive down to the Kawarau bridge and take photos of people who were "crazy enough to jump off a bridge". So we went, we saw, but we did not conquer. Until Viv suddenly turned to me and said, "I want to jump." I was taken aback. I actually wondered if he wanted to jump on the spot a couple of times (but why??). "You want to jump?" "Yes!" He said. "Ok, go jump," was all I could say. "You?" he asked. "Hahaha." I replied. He understood. When you've been married two whole weeks, you understand each other without having to say too many words.

So, in front of my disbelieving eyes, my husband was getting strapped up and bound and what not, to jump off a 47-metre high bridge. There was only one thing to do. Close my eyes. But I couldn't. Viv had asked me to videorecord the whole thing. Damn.

I still remember his face as he ran up the steps after his jump. It was lit up with joy and love and I knew what he was going to say. That all he thought of before jumping off was me. "Did you record the whole thing??" he asked. Sheesh. So he watched himself jump off 282836464839 times until I reminded him that there was such a thing as the camera battery dying. I then asked him how it was. He told me it was very very very scary, and then he asked me if I wanted to do it.  "Erm, no thanks." I told him and we were on our way.

As we drove, I was unusually quiet. And then half an hour later, I said it. "I wanna jump too." "Seriously??" he asked. "Seriously." I said. "Okay, let's go back." he said. I didn't want to go back because that would take long and we were kind of on a schedule (two Monicas, you see) to get to the next city. So he looked up the map and found that we would be passing by Thrillseekers' Canyon, another bungy spot. So we stopped there and the guy gave us a few options, which included tandem jumping. I was still terrified and still not sure why I was doing this, so the idea of tandem jumping appealed to me very very very much. I was confident that even though he'd only jumped once, I could make use of Viv's experience and try not to die. And though he had told me that his jump had been terrifying, he agreed to do the tandem jump for me. (Now you know why I married him.)

So there we were, standing on the bridge, preparing for a 35-metre fall. Our ankles were tied together, and we were told to hold on to each other tight so we wouldn't separate and clash into each other mid-air. We clutched each other's waists, and held our right hands together, just like the instructor advised. My heart was beating so wildly, I could hear it on the outside. This was it. My last chance to back out. But I didn't. The guy counted "1-2-3-JUMP" and we jumped. If even one of us had hesitated, it could have been dangerous due to the tied ankles. So there we were, in a ballroom dance position, except that we were suspended in the air, upside down, and descending rapidly.

Okay, so the whole thing happens very fast, so there's not much to react to. The very first thought that passed my mind as we lost contact with the bridge was... "What the...?!" followed by "What on earth was I thinking????" It was the single most terrifying experience of my entire life. Of course, you're tied with the bungy cord but you only feel the pull of the cord at the end of your fall. Until then, it's a free fall off a bridge into a river. At some point, I realised that I was screaming, but it wasn't the kind of high-pitched terrified scream one would expect. It was a low-pitched guttural sound, which surprised both Viv and me. I suppose you discover things about yourself, such as alternate vocal chords, when you're not sure you're going to make it.

Finally, I felt the jerk of the bungy cord and I realised we were alive. But hanging upside down over a river with no visible rescue. "Where is the boat????" I asked. The boat appeared shortly and someone caught hold of us, pulling us into it. I sat up. Sitting up felt strangely wonderful. The boat took us back and soon, we were back in our car, driving off. I was very quiet again. (No, I wasn't contemplating jumping again.) I was just going through what I'd just done. I had just bungy jumped. Bungy jumping was never even in my bucket list. But I had bungy jumped and lived to tell the tale. So, from going over just to take photos of the "crazy bungy jumpers", an acrophobic and a tachophobic ended up joining them.

Later that day, I called my mom and told her that we'd bungy jumped. I think she heard it to mean that  we were going to bungy jump, and instantly in mother-like fashion said, "No. Don't." "Erm... Mom, we already jumped." I told her. She took a long breath, tried to remain calm and then said, "Okay. But don't do it again."

You bet, mom. You bet. I ain't jumpin' no more.

All I need to do now is to make sure Xena never finds out there's such as thing as a bungy jump.

Boy, interrogated

"You know, Hayden got a mongoose?" Viv said to me.

Oh dear. Here we go again.

So I stared at him for about 5 seconds, but he had picked up a book and started reading as if he had just said the most obvious thing to me that needed no further elaboration. I took a deep breath and sighed. It was time for the usual. A long and painful interrogation session which I knew would end in me wondering why I even got involved in the first place.

"Who got a what?"

"Hayden got a mongoose."

"Hayden who?"

"Arre Hayydenn!" He said, as if adding an extra 'y' and 'n' and an exclamation mark made it very obvious which Hayden he was talking about. For all I knew, Diana Hayden had got a pet mongoose. (Why Viv would find it conversation-worthy was beyond me though.)

"Ahem...?"

"Matthew Hayden!"

"Ah. Matthew Hayden. He got a mongoose?"

"Yes." He went back to reading.

"What the heck is a mongoose??" I asked. (Of course, I knew what the heck a mongoose was, I just didn't know if Matthew had got a pet mongoose or a mongoose tattoo, and once again, why I had chosen to participate in this strange conversation.)

"You don't know what's a mongoose??"

"Uh... the animal?"

"Noooo... the bat!"

"The bat?"

"Yeah."

By now, I had seriously started wondering if I should ask him to clarify if he was talking about a cricket bat or the mammal bat. But bats are after all, animals too, and he had stressed that the mongoose he was referring to wasn't an animal.

"Uhh..."

Viv sensed my restlessness, closed his book and turned to look at me. He spotted a large thought bubble over my head with a large question mark inside.

"Oh! The Mongoose is this new cricket bat, where the handle takes up half the length."

"Oh... erm... okayyy..."

We concluded the conversation, he went back to his book, and I was left wondering why he would think that particular piece of news would interest me.

Length of conversation - 55 seconds

***

Now here's what it could have been:

Viv - "You know, there's this new cricket bat, where the handle takes up half the length? It's called the Mongoose. Matthew Hayden has got one."

Me - "Oh."

Length of conversation - 6 seconds

Playing dirty

Dear spectator,

WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING????

*takes deep breath to calm self*

Okay, first things first. At least the basics for some of the bewdas who're wondering why I'm so mad at YOU. Just five months ago, celebrations were on at the bar as the Singapore cricket team made it to Division 5 in the World Cup League. The World Cup League (WCL) is a system that allows ANY team in the world to have a realistic chance to play in the World Cup some day, alongside the usual World Cup giants like Australia and India. Even a team like Singapore that has managed to keep the game alive in a tiny island-nation where cricket is not big, has a chance to play the big game if they do well in the WCL matches.

Here's how the WCL works. Six countries play one another at each division. The top two move to the next higher division, the middle two stay in the same division and the bottom two move to a lower division. If you keep progressing from division to division, you eventually play the World Cup. In September 2009, Singapore moved from Division 6 to Division 5, one step closer to the ultimate dream of playing in the 2015 World Cup.

The next step for Singapore was the recently concluded Division 5 tournament in Nepal. USA, Nepal and Singapore were neck to neck until the Friday of 26 February which had two critical matches - Singapore vs. Jersey, and Nepal vs. USA. Singapore stormed past Jersey and based on net run rate, they were through to at least second position in the league, no matter who won the Nepal-USA match. There was really nothing stopping them from playing Division 4 in Italy in August. Celebrations had already started when you, yes, YOU, decided to step in and show a passion of the very wrong kind -- the kind that I hope is not repeated in any game ever.

Nepal was about to get beaten by USA (and demoted to 3rd place), when YOU, in a fit of anger, or frustration, or perhaps simply shrewd calculations, decided that you had the power to change fate. Unfortunately for Singapore, it was true -- you did have the power. And what a display of power it was. You started off by flinging stones -- no, rocks -- at the Nepal fielders, and then thousands of you went berserk and broke into a riot. Even the riot police firing tear gas did not deter you from your task. The match had to be stopped. It was resumed after you decided to back off, and Duckworth-Lewis reduced the overs to 46, upsetting the very delicate balance of net run rates between the three teams. The reduction of only 6 runs from Nepal's total gave their run rate a sudden boost, carrying it above Singapore by as little as -- get this -- 0.004! USA and Nepal made if through to Division 4, and Singapore now has to wait till 2012 to play in the next Division 5 tournament.

There, you see how powerful YOU are? Singapore, which was neither of the teams playing the match you disrupted, had to take the brunt of YOUR misbehaviour.

This is not the first time I have read of crowd misbehaviour interrupting a match and felt outraged. But this is indeed, the first time I am reading of crowd misbehaviour in a match between two teams, where it's a third team that suffers for no fault of theirs.

Official media releases played down the role of the riot in determining the outcome of the match. Of course, Singapore protested, and so did the world cricketing community, but the outcome will not change, will it? Nepal is already celebrating their promotion, while an aghast Singapore team looks on at the ICC, after their celebrations came to an abrupt end. ICC has some serious questions to answer too.

I quote from cricketeurope.net:

"The World Cricket League Division 5 match in Kathmandu between Nepal and USA today was halted for 45 minutes when serious rioting broke out in the crowd as Nepal was about to be defeated by USA and thus miss out on promotion to Division 4 on nett run rate behind the USA and Singapore.

ICC officials decided to restart the match and, at the same time, reduce the match to a 46 over match. The effect of that reduction was to inflict a gross injustice on Singapore who, no matter what the result of the match between Nepal and USA, was previously destined for at least second place in the table. However, the reduction of just 6 runs in the Nepal total meant that their run rate got a sudden but significant boost which carried it just above that of Singapore.

The question that needs to be answered publically by ICC is why Nepal was allowed to gain so palpably from the actions of its own crowd and thus rob Singapore of its rightful place in Division 4. As things stand, the whole competition appears to have been brought into disrepute by today's sad events and the validity of its outcome is open to serious question."

And from Rod Lyall (Netherlands Editor at CricketEurope) in his article titled 'A redeemable disgrace':

"I believe that it is imperative, if the authority of the ICC and the legitimacy of its World Cricket League are to be restored, that Nepal be stripped of their Division 5 title, since they should never have been permitted to play in the final; it is an open question whether they should merely have two points deducted or should be relegated to Division 6; and Nepal should in any case be banned from hosting any ICC global or regional event for a significant period, such as three years.

Only by acting in this way can a clear message be sent that such appalling disorder will not be permitted to disrupt a competition and falsify its outcome. Anything less will bring profound discredit upon the head of the ICC."

Blood, sweat and tears go into fulfilling a dream, they say. I have seen the Singapore team put in the blood and sweat, and now I have seen the tears too. The tears of a broken dream. Now they have to wait another two years before they get a final shot at making it to the 2015 World Cup. Do you realise how far away it is? Who knows where these guys will be then? For them, this was their chance to live their dream, and in spite of their best efforts, YOU, ruined it for them. Just because YOU were frustrated with your team's performance. Just because YOU decided to use your power in the lowest way possible.

You forgot your role. You, as a spectator, are there to cheer for your team. Yes, you can change the outcome of a match, but with your support, not your stones. If you want such direct involvement in the match and its outcome, get into the team. As a player, not a rowdy miscreant. All you did was bought the ticket and walked in. The players have been training hard for years for this. Who do you think should have the power to decide the outcome of the match -- their performance or YOUR frustration? You are probably grinning at the fact that you got rewarded for bad behaviour and actually took your team to victory, but I am sure that deep down you know. That you have not only brought shame to your own team, you have also brought shame to the game, to the spirit of spectatorship. You have set a dangerous precedent, and I just hope it is never repeated.

My post is not only addressed to the rioters in Nepal, it is to all spectators who get so caught up in passion, they forget the negative consequences their actions can have on those who truly deserve to forge ahead.

Ek hockey doongi rakh ke!

Caught this ad yesterday. Instantly got interested. Sehwag starting off with "Main is baar nahin khelunga!" is a brilliant hook. Loved it. In fact, loved the ad all the way...

...until he said what he said towards the end... sheesh.



Sehwag ke bache, couldn't you have asked them to tweak the script than to blatantly declare, "Main apni team ke saaaare matches dekhne jaaunga"?

Yeah, right. :/

The big shots

The magnitude of the event first struck me when I saw the coverage in the papers. In a country where we jump with joy if cricket gets a 1" x 1" piece in a hidden corner in the last page of the free newspaper, it was amazing to see the extensive media coverage. The event in question was the IA T20 Super Challenge (Olam Cup). Based on the concept of the IPL, it was a 2-day T20 tournament involving four teams - Eastern Riders, Western Challengers, Northern Spice Devils and Southern Kings (Viv's team).

They had some sort of a quota system and each team comprised three Singaporeans, three players from the region in India that the team was named after, three 'foreigners' and two Under-19 players.

"What do they mean -- 'foreigners'?" I asked.

I was so not prepared to hear the answer. In recent weeks, Atapattu had been the only celebrity cricketer who had come to Singapore (he's the National team's new coach). He was not playing this tournament. But Sanath Jayasuriya was! And so was Upul Tharanga. In the Eastern Riders team.

I went with Viv for the opening ceremony dinner and who did I see seated 20 feet away? Sunil Gavaskar! Holy cow, the man is still so handsome! Apparently, the high Commissioner was going to bowl the first ball of the tournament to Gavaskar! We were joking about how the High Commissioner must have been practising like mad for the last few days, and what would happen if he really got Gavaskar out for a duck.

As our friends Reghu and Aathira are in Singapore, we decided that the three of us would go for the second day's matches. The supporters had been asked to wear the team's colours. Unfortunately for me, Viv's team's colour was a jhataak yellow! Why why why? Sheesh. I did not have any yellow clothes. So we went shopping on saturday. I found a yellow dress but no, no no no. No. I did not buy it. It was too jhataak. I did not want to buy something that I would have no use for after the match. So in the end, I decided on a jhataak yellow bandanna instead. I think I pulled it off okay, at least compared to Viv who actually came home on Saturday looking like a cross between Govinda and Rajanikanth. He had his team yellow pants on and a sky blue T-shirt. Ahem.

On Saturday, Viv's team won the first match against the Northern Spice Devils, but lost to Jayasuriya's Eastern Riders team. Jayasuriya made 102. But I was thrilled because Viv had taken Upul Tharanga's catch. I can only imagine the elation of the guy who got Jayasuriya out. Stuff to put on his cricket resume!

The Western Challengers also beat the Northern Spice Devils, so they were in the semi-finals with the Southern Kings. Now I have two good friends in the Western Challengers team, and though both of them are supremely talented (one is the record holder for the second fastest century in T20, while the other is the record holder for scoring a double century in T20), for some reason they believe that when I turn up for their matches, it brings them good luck. So the semi-finals on Sunday morning was a weird one. I was there in my yellow bandanna, supporting Viv's team, but the Western Challengers were happy to see me because "Sayesha always makes us win". Gulp.

The organisers had proudly displayed a newspaper at the venue on Sunday. It was the Straits Times article about the event, and the photo was from the Southern Kings vs. Northern Spice Devils match. And... the wicket-keeper in the photo was Viv.


















If you didn't believe how jhataak Viv's yellow was, I bet you do now.

My friend Reghu is an avid photographer and he has one of those giant cameras which just don't go with the whole "The world is trying to make things smaller" campaign. He took some really awesome action shots of the semi-final. I had my tiny digital camera on me, which also has a huge superstition attached to it. Every time I switch to video mode, Viv's team gets a wicket. It proved true in this match too. And just when I decided to keep it permanently on video mode, the battery died on me. :/

The Western Challengers had a huge group of supporters, while we were only a handful. In fact, the announcer joked, "We welcome the team and the five people in the stands". Thunk thunk thunk.

We were a bit perplexed because one of the Western supporters (the most violently passionate one I'd say) kept yelling "SIXER! SIXER!" whenever the Southern Kings scored a single. After a while, we realised she was actually yelling, "SINGAL! SINGAL!" Sheesh.

Every time the match turned in the favour of the Western Challengers, the song "Chale chalo" from Lagaan would start playing, and every time the Southern Kings did well, the song "Naan adicha thaanga maate, naalu maasam thoonga maate" would start playing. I had no idea what that song meant until Viv translated it for me later. "If I hit you, you can't withstand it. You won't sleep for 4 months". Double sheesh.

Anyway, we were in for a disappointment as the Southern Kings lost the semi-final to the Western Challengers. I went over to congratulate my two friends and inform them that from now on, ahem, I would be charging for every appearance.

And so it was the Western Challengers vs. the Eastern Riders in the finals. The Western team managed to get Jayasuriya out for real cheap, but Tharanga blasted his team to victory.

T20 really is my kind of cricket. I can't wait for the tournament next year. Erm, I hope they get Shane Bond.

And more importantly, I hope that Viv's team gets a better colour. :/

Run of the mill will

"He's already done it once. Why does he want to do it again?" my Dad emailed.

"I don't know." I said. I really did not.

Viv and I have been discussing this for a while now. While his plan was to run one full- and one half-marathon every year, I suggested running only the half. Though I am fully supportive of all the sports he participates in, I was also a little worried.

"You're a wicket-keeper. That's already hard on the knees. If you train all year for two marathons and then run them, your knees will be in very bad shape." I said.

"But I can do it." He said.

"You're just addicted."

It's true. He was. And this morning, I understood why he was.

So here are the highlights from today's Singapore Standard Chartered Marathon.

First of all, congratulations to S2 on their first full Marathon! I am super proud of you, guys!!

Last night, as it poured, Viv and I were walking around inspecting a part of the track under an umbrella, and hoping for the rain to stop. Like he says, collective consciousness was what kept today a dry, and yet cool day. Rain would have marred the run for many, and the sun would have caused collective unconsciousness perhaps!

The runners had been given a blank label on which to write words of encouragement and motivation for themselves and/or fellow runners and stick at the back of their running vests. Viv and I brainstormed yesterday on what to write on his.

"How about 'I've got a serious case of the runs'!?" I asked.

Ahem, I could tell from his face that he didn't like it too much.

After going through all phrases with the word 'run' in it, I finally suggested something he liked.

"If it rains, you can write, 'This is not a dry run.'? Good, eh?"

"Yeah, I like it. Let's make it, 'This is not a dry run. Keep going.' so the pun is clearer." He said.

We had pretty much finalised when both of us thought of the same thing at once. If we wrote this, we'd have to wish for it to rain! Noooooooooooooo!

"Okay, forget that. How about we write 'Run of the mill' and then cross out the 'mill' and write 'will' on top?" I suggested.

"Yeah! Or we could write 'Run of the mill' and draw a guy on a treadmill, followed by 'Run of the will' and show a guy crossing the finish line of the marathon!" He said. I loved the idea.

Unfortunately, the label was too small for us to write and draw all of it, so we finally went with 'Run of the will. Keep going.'

Many people had got their kids to write on the labels so we saw many instances of 'Go, daddy, go!' Viv said he was quite confused when he read on a woman's back 'You're stranger than you think!', and only when he got closer did he realise that he had read 'stronger' as 'stranger'. I also saw a girl who had 'Chase me lah!' on her label. Some guy had 'virgin marathoner' written on his, while another had the learners' 'L', which I thought was hilarious!

The race marshalls were holding up placards with words of encouragement for the runners. In addition, there were people standing/sitting along the track, applauding and cheering the runners. There was even a woman who along with her two kids, was handing out bananas from a bag to the runners. Very very touching.

Speaking of touching sights, there was a one-armed man and a one-legged guy running with such utter determination, it was humbling just to stand and watch them. There were also people in their 70s merrily running and leaving youngsters behind.

Some supporters also came with a sense of humour. Viv said that when his legs started cramping around the 35-km mark and he started walking instead, a guy called out to him and pointed at the sign he was holding. The sign said, 'This is a no-walking zone!' Viv resumed running, and the guy grinned and shouted a 'Thank you!' after him.

Viv and S2 had their phones on them and they kept me updated every now and then of their status. When your friends are running such a long distance, there's not much you can do other than stationing yourself at key points in the route and finally at the finish line. You can, of course, send them random messages to cheer them up and keep them going. When Shub was near the 37-km mark, I sent her a few messages, "The end is nearing! Bhaag Dhanno bhaag!" and "You're in your late 30s! Go go go!" I almost fell off laughing when she replied with a "I'll never be more thankful to enter my early 40s!"

I read that a total of 50,000 people ran today in the 10-km, 21-km and 42-km categories. Plus, there was a kids' dash too! It was awesome to see the kids in their cute little running vests.

This is only the second full marathon I have witnessed, but I have come to realise one very important thing. When we hear about someone running the marathon, regular people like you and me tend to react the same way, "That's just insane." But only when you're part of the atmosphere, only when you witness the training and discipline it takes, only when you see the grit and determination on each runner's face as he/she runs past you, only when you see the pain the runners go through when muscle cramps set in, only when you see the kind of support they garner, only when you see the thrill on the faces of the runners when they cross the finish line, do you truly understand why people like Viv get addicted.

Viv finished in under 5 hours once again and I was very very proud of him. And finally, I began to see his point. I guess he saw mine too. And that's why we have negotiated it down to only one full-marathon every year. Only when he can't run the full anymore, he will go for the half.

And when he can't do that either, we will still go. We will stand by the track and hand out bananas to the runners.

And this is how you bowl a maiden over!

Celebrations in the bar -- Singapore makes it to Division 5 in the World Cup League!

6 matches. 6 wins. 6 years to the World Cup.

In the long run

Marathon.

The first time I encountered the term was in standard IV when it featured in a question in the General Knowledge exam.

”State the distance of a marathon.”

"42.195 km". I wrote laboriously with my wooden pencil, muttering to myself, "Who are these insane people who run this distance??"

Over the years, I came across the terms several times, but never in its true sense. More like "Sinha Uncle's dog was chasing me and I just kept running --- like I was in the marathon or something." or "Let's have a Shah Rukh movie marathon!" kind of instances.

So the first time I heard about marathon in the 'marathon' sense was after I came to Singapore. I was amazed to know that thousands of people signed up, paid money and almost killed themselves to run the 42 kilometres. Why did they do that? "Insane people..." I muttered again to myself. Of course, I had no idea that this friend of mine would, in a decade, first marry me and then declare, "I will run the marathon." (I think the order of events was pre-planned in his mind.)

"You will what??" I asked.

"I will run the marathon."

Initially, I was shocked.

“The marathon? As in THE marathon?”

“Yes.”

"You want to run 42 km for no reason?"

"Yes."

"It's 42 km, you know?"

"Haha! I know."

"42 km!!!!!!!!!"

"I know. I can do it."

"Are you very very sure?"

"I am."

"Okay then, do it!"

And he did it. Last saturday, exactly at midnight, he joined thousands of other "insane people" (yes, I'll never stop calling them that) as they embarked on the Adidas sundown marathon.

While he was training, I was freaking out. People had been telling me of marathoners who didn't train hard enough, pushed themselves too hard and collapsed during the race. I checked with colleagues who had run the marathon. Asked them for the optimum training distance before one could do well in the marathon. 35 km, they said. So I yelled at Viv. His maximum training distance was 10 km.

"It's four times the distance you're used to running, you know!"

"I know."

"You have to train harder."

"I know."

He trained harder. Woke up at 5 in the morning once and did a 21.

That was still only half of what he'd have to eventually run, but I was feeling slightly calmer now. On many levels, I was still freaking out though. We had just come back from India and the marathon was in two weeks. If he were to keep himself in good shape, he couldn't do any more dry runs before the actual one.

As I created his marathon playlist of upbeat, peppy, inspirational numbers on the ipod, I told him I'd stay up all night and look out for his sms updates of how much distance he had covered. He told me I was mad and asked me to go to sleep. "I'll know I did well if I am home before you wake up." Viv had said. I had laughed and said, "Sure!"

However, the closer we got to the event, the more interested I got. He was targeting 5-6 hours to complete the run. I told him I could go to specific points in the running track and watch him run by. That was the plan. Until these three wonderful folks decided to turn up at the venue and stay up to support Viv. Without them, I wouldn't have been able to stay there all night and watch him cross the finish line.

The organisers had an open-air superhero movie marathon screening (Iron Man, Transformers and The Incredible Hulk) for supporters at the start/finish line so we put a bedsheet on the grass, sat down and watched. Viv kept sending sms messages at specific milestones.

12:18 am - "At 3 km"

12:59 am - "10 km"

1:28 am - "15. How's the movie?"

(How's the movie?? Sheesh.)

1:56 am - "20"

2:35 am - "26"

That was it! I lost it. I messaged back to ask him not to just send me the numbers, but also whether he was ok.

3.00 am - "30... cramps but ok"

3:42 am - "35"

3:58 am - "37"

4:14 am - "39"

4:30 am - "41"

1 km to go! We wrapped up the bedsheet and stationed ourselves with our cameras at the best spot at the finish line.

And there he was, our hero, running towards us, utterly exhausted but grinning away.

I took a video of him as he crossed the finish line and then pointed the camera up to end the video with a snapshot of the timer: 4:41.

The funniest part is that after finishing the marathon, as he queued up for the massage that the good organisers had arranged, he turns to us and asks, "Do you guys want to sit down?" Yeah, dude, it's us who need to sit down. After all the hard work of sitting on our asses, munching on snacks and watching back-to-back movies, WE should take a break and sit down. :P

A few years ago, if you had asked me whether I knew any marathoners, I'd have laughed in your face. Today, I live with one and I know two who are waiting in the wings, to phodo the Stanchart Marathon in December.

I am not a runner, and my knee will never let me be one, but that night, being a part (in whatever inconsequential way) of Viv’s marathon was quite something else.

When I think of the distance he ran, I still reel with disbelief.

42.

According to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, it is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything. But to a whole lot of people, it is the answer to the ultimate test of their abilities, endurance and willpower.

There must be something to pushing your mind and your body to beyond their limits. Resolving to do something-- something difficult --- and going ahead and doing it.

Yup, there's certainly something to what these "insane people" do. Why else would I, one who has never run a marathon and will never run one, feel such a sense of insane elation, just to be a part of that atmosphere, that experience?