How does it feel...

How does it feel when...

U know it's ur friend's birthday
And the friend is important in a very special way

U know u have to call and wish
And do something other than the usual cliche

U know u have to make it crazy
And not sit around like a pig so lazy

U even know what to do
And make it a day that saw us start anew

U know u wanna do this more than any of the million assignments lighting a stove under ur backside
And get that delightful feeling of having followed ur heart,

U know u can make this happen
And make up for all that happened when u were smitten

U know it's the presence of those memories that's making u float
And making your heart swell

U know this is the one thing u'll wanna do that day
if that's all u can do that day
and it's ur last day on earth

And then u realize...

The friend is important in a special way
But she would tear u apart if she could find a way

U have to do something other than the usual cliche
But trying to do even that is making you say "How I wish..."

U shouldn't sit around like a lazy pig
But if u did anything more, u'll be the lady's nasty li'l bug

U want to make it a day that saw you start Anew
But within a minute of you logging in to Facebook, she disappears as if on cue

U want that delightful feeling of having followed your heart
But doing just that is what has led to this fateful part

U want make up for all that happened
But even a word about it can bring the universe crashing down

U want this to be the last thing you do if that day is to be THE day
But realize you might not get to do it even till your eventual day of reckoning...

How does it feel?

I was there...

The end of the cricket fan in me began on the 10th of November 2008 when the man who defined cricket to me walked out on to the field in whites for the last time. He is a bigger God to me than he is to Bongs. I still remember that day in 1996, when I was sitting in my room studying, with my Dad listening to BBC's inimitable commentary on the radio. Not having cable TV at home meant I never saw much cricket before that. But that day, my Dad, having seen a bit of the match at work, was so intrigued by the rock solid technique of a wiry young debutant named Rahul Dravid that he felt compelled to tune in to BBC. Infuriatingly slow at accumulating runs, the kid was showing quite a lot of character facing the British quicks at Lord's. Little did he notice the other debutant steadily progressing towards a century on debut. Li'l did my Dad know how much his son would go on to worship the latter debutant, Sourav Ganguly.
Dada, Dravid, Sachin and Jumbo... these guys were the broad definition of cricket to me. One can argue that the game is bigger than players but these guys took the game to a such a level that it was impossible to envision the game without these stalwarts. They were not just outrageously talented, they were legends. Seldom has the game seen men trying harder than Kumble and Dravid have. Seldom has the game seen a bigger statesman that Dada. And the game has never seen and will never see anyone like Sachin. It's rude to try and describe him.
As they grew older, the squad began to get a younger a look. Men walked out and boys walked in. These boys were nothing like the two that debuted in 1996. Neither were they like the one that debuted in 1989. Somehow it was hard to pray for a win when I saw them walk out on to the field. Neither was it easy too feel proud of my national team when one of the 'boys' gyrated his hips on the pitch after whacking Andre Nel for a six or one of them called Andrew Symonds a monkey. To put it simply, I lost interest in the game. What kept me stuck to the game even then, was the presence of the Big 4. So when Dada and Jumbo decided to call it quits within a week of each other, it was, literally, the end of the cricket fan in me. Dravid was already out of the ODI squad. The Men In Blue simply lost their charm inspite of winning more trophies lately.
A year passed by, I moved from Coimbatore to Mysore and then to Amdavad. My interest in the game dropped by the day. All that remained in the shorter version of the game (the shortest one isn't even worth mentioning here) was one man. And that man, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, in 3 hours of business-as-usual (by his standards) showed me there's still something for me to savour in this game. Atleast until he walks into the sunset.
24th Feb 2010....
The nation stood still. A billion hearts swelled with one question, "Is this the moment?". It's not that he had anything to prove to anyone, he's beyond all such human idiosyncracies. Just that no one else deserved it as much as he does.
Rewind back 4 years and after a long time, I was happy to see a guy from Tamil Nadu making making a mark for the national side. Dinesh Karthik, after his baptism by fire against Australia in Nagpur was settling into the side slowly. I was so overjoyed when Greg Chappell in his leaked text message or mail or whatever to the BCCI, said that DK was captaincy material. I thought there was someone I could follow after Dada retired. Then came Dhoni and out went Karthik. I've been following every one of his numerous comebacks into the national side.
So on 24th Feb, as Karthik, in the shadow of the master, effortlessly dismantled the Proteas' pace attack, I sat there eagerly awaiting a long due maiden century from his willow. As fate would have it, DK holed out to mid wicket on 80 and flufffed a great opportunity to cement his place in the side. Sachin had moved past 120 by then but then Sachin scoring a century is not exactly new to us so I didn't bother watching the match anymore and just left. A guy who was sitting next to me in the community centre was telling his friend about how this is the best chance for Sachin to get to the magic number. I looked at the scorecard. There were 14 overs left and Sachin was still about 75 runs off the mark. No way. Not happening today. I left.
About an hour later I checked the score on Cricinfo... Sachin: 196* (46 overs)
It was happening!! The God of all religions was at his furious best!
There was an immediate urge to get up, run like mad and slump in front of the TV in the community centre. A small voice said he'll make it before I reach and that it'll be pointless. I was a fraction of a second away from heeding that voice when another asked Would you give it a go or let the moment slip?
My slippers were 3 feet away. Too far off, forget it. RUN!! Past Palaash, past the Baddy court and up the stairs. As I neared the stairs, I saw another guy running up the stairs. It was pointless asking him what the hurry was, I just said "196" to him, and scampered up the stairs. The sight that greeted me in the community centre is one that'll be an enduring memory of MICA. There must've been atleast a 100 guys in there. Sitting on everything from steps to chess boards. It was like a Vatican convention before the big announcement. The noise level was unbelievable. The energy level was out of the World. It was a war zone. I ran in and crashed next to my guys. One of them challenged me to switch off the TV at that moment...
I stared at him and thought about a moment a couple of weeks back. It was AC Milan vs Manchester United and some 15-20 avid footie fans were watching the match. I had had a nightmare of a time before that and I was just slumped in my chair watching the match. I was so crestfallen at the state of things that I felt not even a United victory could cheer me up. But like I said in Facebook after the match, "...No matter how big your sorrows are, no matter how much excruciating your pain is, no matter how deep the pit of sadness in your stomach is, when you see Darren Fletcher float the ball into the box and Rooney hoodwinks Alessandro Nesta to head it past Dida, you just HAVE to jump up and scream in joy! The tears in your eyes have nothing to do with your sadness! Glory Glory Man United!". So as Rooney jumped up to head it past Dida, I jumped up with him, my hands thrown in the air. So much was my joy that I forgot I was holding the remote in my hand and pumped my fist so hand that I changed the channel by mistake. The reaction from the 15 guys was like what one would see from a group of Milanese fans towards a Red Devil when Rooney scored. Now if I did that when Sachin was on 196... I wondered whether I'd be cremated or buried. No thanks mate, I'll take you money some other day.
After all that running I did to make it in time, Dhoni took over. For three overs, he showed the proteas stars in the high noon. Some 50 runs were plunderd in those 3 overs. And Sachin, amidst the carnage, moved to 199. Those 3 overs also witnessed something unreal. Every time the bowler steamed in to bowl to Dhoni, the crowd had one thing on their lips 'Single le saale!' except on the last ball of the over. Every time he played an outrageous shot to whack the ball out of\f the park, the room reverberated with expletives I dare not mention here for fear of my Dad reading this :) There were more than a few shouts of "Resign kar saale kaminey!".
Off the first ball of the last over, he worked it past extra cover and the ball looked destined to cross the ropes. The flow of expletives intensified. Out of nowhere, the unmistakable , bearded figure of Hashim Amla flashed into the screen and stopped a certain boundary. The crowd clapped and cheered him like he was one of our own! Finally, Sachin on strike, 199*. One run away from creating history. Dale Steyn ran and a billion people ran in with him. Wide outside off stump, full delivery. Sachin reached out, put bat to ball and guided it past point.... and delirium!!! Gwalior erupted. So did MICA. So did a million drawing rooms and street-side wide screens across the country. The frontier had been scaled. And who else but Sachin to do it! "Saachiiiiiiiiiiiin Saachin" filled the eentire community centre. Amidst mexican waves and bumps to Sachin Sharma, the crowd paid homage to the master in it's owwn way. Amidst the madness that he had sparked off across the country, Sachin... stood tall. The helmet came off, the trademark life of the helmet and the bat with his face towards the skies greeted the new World. What was he thinking as he looked up? Was he plotting yet another chapter in a story that's run for 20 years? Or was he crying, like Alexander did in Babylon after conquering the World? Looking at the man that he's been for the past 2 decades, he was probably saying, "Hona ta, to ho gaya". The humility of the man in the face of his 'adjective-less' achievements is mind-blowing.
200*. So it stood till the end off the match. And so it shall stand till the end of time. For the World has never seen, and will never ever see a man like Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar ever again. So after I'm long gone, may I be known as the man who lived by his rules,worshipped Cristiano Ronaldo, brought happiness to a million lives with his writings, looked up to the red jersey of Mannchester United like it was his own, made a million bucks, grew crazy as a loon thanks to Sunshine, and more than all these, lived in the era when Gods walked the Earth. When Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar walked the Earth. And made it a better place to live for a billion people.
I was there...

Defence Conundrum

Theo Walcott zoomed across the face of goal, dragging Vidic with him and opening the floodgates for Samir Nasri to fire in anger and put his and Arsenal's second past United at The Emirates. 2-0. Game over. If that was a low moment, then li'l Rafael Da Silva's stunner of a first ever goal for United salvaged some pride. But what really set things straight was the next 14 games. United's defence, in simple terms, shut shop. Not an earthworm could swirm through. Not even the ghosts of some of the best strikers in the World could sneak past the walls. Rio Ferdinand's words in a Nike ad "Let no man pass" was a reality on the pitch. Rio and Vidic flanked by Evra, Rafael and O'Shea were a force that no team could stand up to, for 14 matches at a stretch. It was a total black out. Finally it took a great strike by Roque Santa Cruz to breach United's wall and a lucky goal by Loevenkrantz to finally put one past Van Der Sar. It was the platform on which United dared to dream of collecting 7 trophies. They pulled upshort at the last step on two occasions but last season's defence was a phenomenon rarely witnessed before. Vidic was performing in a parallel universe where strikers were persona non grata.

Fast forward to now...

Rio Ferdinand: Has stumbled from one injury to another
Vidic: Exactly what's his injury? Marginally better than Rio in terms of appearances but nothing to write home about
Yet to play in central defence along side each other since early November
O'Shea: Miserable season that reads Captaincy-injury-comeback-injury-comeback-Henry'ed in Paris - injured-Out for the season
Neville: At 35, it's hardly the time for him to get injured every month, get back on the field without full fitness and get injured again
Evans: Looks like Alice in Wonderland without Vidic or Rio to guide him. Has showed his immense talent but when faced with strong opposition, he's wilted under the pressure. Everton and AC Milan come to mind immediately
Brown: Let's face it, he's never gonna be United's first choice centre back EVER. Has been an able deputy all season but he's no Vidic
Rafael: Seems to be getting into the Marcelo mode. Great when bombing forward. Remember Wigan? But seems to lose his head when defending against World class wingers. Ronaldinho skinned him too many times though he stood upto 'Dinho bravely. But then, he's 19, he's certainly on his way to donning the no.2 jersey
Evra: Captain courageous! Has ANYbody played more minutes than him this season?? Every match, every competition, every weekend and midweek, the pint sized Frenchman's been a livewire down that wing. The rock in the defence. Counting down to the reserves, we had 9 defenders injured at a point of time and still he was up and kicking. Deserves the armband.
De Laet, Fabio: Ask me this time season after next

Within a span of one year, United's defence has gone from being the best in the World to the most chaotic unit in the team. Injuries have wreaked havoc and transfer speculations have done their bit to lower the already drooping morale. The central defensive pair that had as much a hand in last season's successes as El Ron is barely recognizable this season. Carrick, Flethcer, De Laet, Giggs, everyone and their cousins from Mars have played defenders this season. Last time Fergie could pick his first choice defenders was against Liverpool in early November or October. Since then it's been a patch up job of unseen proportions. The bench has become a field hospital. Instances of defenders breaking down right before kickoff hardly seem to surprise people these days. It's become so bloody common! Rio, at 31, and his back, at 62, seem to be past the days of playing week in week out for club and country. Even if he is to make a full recovery, it'll be hard for him to play more than 3-4 matches at a stretch. Vidic, if he can get over his personal issues and mysterious injuries, can still give 3-4 prime seasons before getting intot eh Rio-mode but there's a huge question mark hanging over that at the moment. And if reports of his family's inability to settle in England are to be believed then I don't think Barca or Real Madrid will think twice before giving United a blank cheque for the Serb.
Johnny Evans is at least a season away from playing week in week out as United's no.5. he's shown his potential but the rawness of the 22 year old is there for all to see. He needs some serious tutelage under Rio and Vidic. Wes Brown... will be Wes Brown till he retires as the man who served United whenever they were without their first choice defenders. Nothing much different can be said about John O'Shea. So where does that leave United?
Nightmare scenario: Rio continues the way he is, now. Vidic does the same as Rio or worse, leaves for Spain/Italy.
It leaves United with 20-25 million in cash, one good, young central defender on his way to greatness but not there yet, one awesome but crocked England captain, and Wes Brown. And Chris Smalling. If his performance against Chelsea for Fulham are anything to go buy, Fergie's pulled off a coup by signing the kid for 7 mil. But he'll have to be monitored for atleast 6 months before blooding him full time. And it'll be a ridiculous risk playing a 20 year old and a 22 year old in central defence. Add Rafael to that and we might as well ask Paul McGuinness to move his academy to Old Trafford.
Bottomline: If Vidic and/or Ferdidand are gonna be like this next season, we're in God almighty trouble. We need a defender.

Who?
Fergie's favourite Simon Klaer:
Plus: Totally in the Vidic mode. Rock solid.
Minus: He's younger than Jonny Evans. Hard to see him leading United's defensive line. Sergio Ramos, inspite of having been a teenage prodigy is struggling to do it at Real. Will be a huge ask if Kjaer is pulled up to lead the line.

Mamadou Sakho:
Plus: Has plied his trade in the French league so naturally fast and physical too. On the brink of breaking into Raymond Domenech’s squad

Minus: Same as Kjaer. Lack of experience. Haven’t seen much of him in the Champions League so whether he can perform at the top level remains to be seen.

Gary Cahill:

Plus: Proven performer. Right age to make the big move. Has earned his salt under some of the hardest task masters in the league. Has earned a national team call up as well. Covetous glances from Chelsea and Juventus mean he’s someone to be looked at seriously

My 2 cents:

Branislav Ivanovic:

Chelsea’s unsung Player of the Season. Whether at centre back or right back, the Serb has been sensational. He’s been no slouch whether it is at getting into rough tackles or bombing forward – he’s matched Ashley Cole at that, which is REALLY something. His performance in last year’s Champions League double headers against Liverpool was a joy to behold. Definitely, a wasted talent at Chelsea, as second choice to Bosingwa and Ricardo Carvalho.

Bruno Alves:

The bedrock of Portugal’s defence, Alves has risen fast to become one of the best centre backs in Europe. It’s only a matter of time before the biggies of Europe come calling on him so if United want a World class centre back and are ready to shell out $20 million or above then we better move fast on him.

Ryan Shawcross:

The one that got away. Just where was Fergie’s eye for talent when he let the gangling youngster leave for Stoke? The Potters’ captain has fast risen to being one of the best young defenders in the league and has earned a maiden call up to Capello’s squad. That he plies his trade under Tony Pulis means he’s a tough no-nonsense defender. His horrendous tackle on Aaron Ramsey –albeit unintentional- shows he’s not loathe to get into crunching tackles. Will be one hell of a buy for $12m but considering we could’ve had him for free, it’s a transfer long overdue.

Rabbit out of the hat: The Fergie-Ole way. Get someone whose name will have to be looked up by the media… till he makes an all too familiar Old Trafford debut. Vegard Forren from Ole’s old club probably….