After travelling a good 50 miles all day, I reached back home to watch the eliminator battle between the Rajasthan Royals & the Sun Risers Hyderabad. Commentator Navjot Singh Sidhu was found yelling in the commentary box saying Rajasthan hasn't lost a battle in the last 7 clashes but SRH has also, on the other hand, defended their targets ranged between 125 - 140 thrice this season. So that called out for an exciting battle.
But what really caught my attention is something different. There were times when I used to bunk school to watch Team India play either Down Under or other first class cricketing nations. Those were the days filled with hope - a never dying one. No matter how many wickets fell, there used to be an unending hope inside me that somebody would perform in the match and would help the team reach the shores of victory. That added so much to the manna of the sport and got me bound to it. A true cricket fan who always hoped his team would still make even it was 6 runs to yield out of one last ball.
Last night was totally different. To be very honest, this was the first game I watched with my skin tickling, blood boiling and senses involved. Every wicket that fell of RR was thumping adrenaline inside me. Every RR batsman who walked his way back to pavilion injected some more hope into me. I rejoiced the maiden - wicket over from Amit Mishra like I've won back the love of my life. I clenched my fists when Steyn went back to his run up after a cold blooded stare at James Faulkner.
I was absolutely relieved after than stunning over in which RR could only conceive 5 runs; the penultimate over by Thisasa Pereara. Owing to astounding spirits Darren Sammy had been all through the match, I went to refrigerator, pulled out a water bottle, guzzled down the entire content and laid back to watch Sammy do the magic. IN fact, he let Brad Hodge do one. He made it easy and swift for RR. TV turned off and I hit the bed.
I couldn't sleep for the next 2 hours. Cricket has been the mirror of retrospection. Times were there when I used to go back to bed in vengeance and grit filled hope that my team is going to make a comeback, this time a rather hard one. That positiveness always put me sleep.
Where is that? Not to be seen any where. I hung my head down in despair and prompted myself to make peace with the fact that SR Hyderabad is actually out of the tournament and I got to wait for another year to pull out that jersey from the wardrobe and wear it to cheer my team. I couldn't feel hopeful. I couldn't see any glint of hope. I don't see Team India as my team now. I forget that Champions Trophy is just a week away to hit the screens and woo its audience.
If I see Team India versus Australia, I only see a silent brotherhood between wicket keeper & his second fiddle in the first slip as two rivals who stared at each other between CSK & Kolkata Knight Riders. I just plainly can't digest when Mitchel Johnson and Sachin Tendulkar chat and smile between balls; as my eyes which are fed with a decade long of true battleship fought between Ponting, Tendulkar, Lee, Mcgrath, Gillespie and not to forget Warne.
Is it me as an individual, who has grown either too sensitive (or rather insensitive) towards everything & predominantly cricket? or is it IPL that consumed a cricket fan like me to hate the whole institution called Cricket? Or is this just a pointless ranting of a success deprived fan of a lost team?
But what really caught my attention is something different. There were times when I used to bunk school to watch Team India play either Down Under or other first class cricketing nations. Those were the days filled with hope - a never dying one. No matter how many wickets fell, there used to be an unending hope inside me that somebody would perform in the match and would help the team reach the shores of victory. That added so much to the manna of the sport and got me bound to it. A true cricket fan who always hoped his team would still make even it was 6 runs to yield out of one last ball.
Last night was totally different. To be very honest, this was the first game I watched with my skin tickling, blood boiling and senses involved. Every wicket that fell of RR was thumping adrenaline inside me. Every RR batsman who walked his way back to pavilion injected some more hope into me. I rejoiced the maiden - wicket over from Amit Mishra like I've won back the love of my life. I clenched my fists when Steyn went back to his run up after a cold blooded stare at James Faulkner.
I was absolutely relieved after than stunning over in which RR could only conceive 5 runs; the penultimate over by Thisasa Pereara. Owing to astounding spirits Darren Sammy had been all through the match, I went to refrigerator, pulled out a water bottle, guzzled down the entire content and laid back to watch Sammy do the magic. IN fact, he let Brad Hodge do one. He made it easy and swift for RR. TV turned off and I hit the bed.
I couldn't sleep for the next 2 hours. Cricket has been the mirror of retrospection. Times were there when I used to go back to bed in vengeance and grit filled hope that my team is going to make a comeback, this time a rather hard one. That positiveness always put me sleep.
Where is that? Not to be seen any where. I hung my head down in despair and prompted myself to make peace with the fact that SR Hyderabad is actually out of the tournament and I got to wait for another year to pull out that jersey from the wardrobe and wear it to cheer my team. I couldn't feel hopeful. I couldn't see any glint of hope. I don't see Team India as my team now. I forget that Champions Trophy is just a week away to hit the screens and woo its audience.
If I see Team India versus Australia, I only see a silent brotherhood between wicket keeper & his second fiddle in the first slip as two rivals who stared at each other between CSK & Kolkata Knight Riders. I just plainly can't digest when Mitchel Johnson and Sachin Tendulkar chat and smile between balls; as my eyes which are fed with a decade long of true battleship fought between Ponting, Tendulkar, Lee, Mcgrath, Gillespie and not to forget Warne.
Is it me as an individual, who has grown either too sensitive (or rather insensitive) towards everything & predominantly cricket? or is it IPL that consumed a cricket fan like me to hate the whole institution called Cricket? Or is this just a pointless ranting of a success deprived fan of a lost team?
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