When it comes to sporting relations between Pakistan and India, there are no clearly demarcated lines. Just as the border at Kashmir is disputed, where one country blurs into another amid minefields and army patrols, politics blends into Pakistan-India cricket matches like blood dripping into water from a raw wound.

In December 2012 and January 2013, Pakistan’s national cricket team is going to tour India. They will play two Twenty20 matches and three one day internationals (ODIs) over a two-week period. This is quite a big deal: it will be the first bilateral series between the two teams since 2007, and the latest in a long line of attempts at cricket diplomacy.

To those unfamiliar with the India-Pakistan cricket rivalry, it’s difficult to explain just how nebulous and far-reaching the mutual discontent has become. Sixty years of flashpoints on and off the field have piled up to the point that it seems impossible to separate a Sachin Tendulkar off drive or Saeed Ajmal doosra from the communal violence of the Partition and multiple all-out border wars. On top of these clashes, cricketing stars like Pakistan’s Shahid Afridi and India’s Gautam Gambhir have explicitly linked their efforts on the field to the sour relations between the two countries. The thought of mending cricketing relations is mind-boggling – where do you start? – and, to many disgusted citizens on both sides, entirely unwanted. As far as a lot of Indians and Pakistanis are concerned, they would be happiest if they had nothing to do with each other.

At the moment the rawest wound is the 2008 Mumbai terror attacks, in which 164 people were killed by fundamentalist Islamist terrorists from Pakistan. Crucially, those involved with planning the attacks have said they were working for Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), the Pakistan Government’s major intelligence agency. In their attempts to uncover who exactly was to blame for the attacks, Indian authorities reported a lack of cooperation from Pakistan – indeed, it took the Pakistan Government more than two months to confirm that Ajmal Kasab, the lone surviving terrorist, was a Pakistani citizen.

Kasab, meanwhile, has been sentenced to death in India but remains very much alive. To many in India, including a blogger at Youth Ki Awaaz, he is a constant reminder of Pakistani belligerence and the Indian Government’s failure to punish those found responsible.

And now we have a bilateral sporting tour, when Pakistan’s cricketers will visit India with the express permission of India’s Home Ministry. The powers that be have at least had the foresight to not schedule any India vs Pakistan matches in Mumbai, but it seems certain that there will be much vocal objection. Fundamentalist Hindu group Shiv Sena has condemned it, as has Kirti Azad, a winner of the Cricket World Cup for India in 1983 and now a Member of Parliament for the right-leaning Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), currently the principal opposition in Indian Parliament.

The Congress-led Indian Government seems keen to turn over a new leaf. “We cannot restrict; we must have friendly relations. What has happened in the past, all the time we should not repeat it,” said Sushilkumar Shinde, the Indian Home Minister. “Cricket as a sport is certainly welcome. It should be free from politics.”

Smruti Koppikar, a columnist for the Hindustan Times and a Mumbai resident, disagrees. “For many of us, there’s a sense of betrayal [...] a feeling that revenues from these cricket matches – to the Boards, sponsors, whoever else – carry more currency than our need for justice in the 26/11 attack.”

India’s newly appointed Foreign Minister Salman Khurshid, meanwhile, seems content to stay on the fence. “It is always possible to review any decision we take. […] My understanding of dealing with difficult situation with neighbours has been that we do put aside some issues on which there isn’t an immediate resolution, and we continue with those issues on which consensually it is possible to have improvement of relations.”

So, who’s right? Should politics and sport interact? Are cricket players adequate representatives for Pakistan’s role in the Mumbai attacks?

As a New Zealander, I’ve grown up in a country that has a history of mixing sport and diplomacy. Our Government joined the international cricketing blockade of South Africa during the apartheid years; since South Africa’s readmission to the fold in 1992, we’ve built relations on the back of multiple cricket tours. Conversely, to test whether a line could in fact be drawn between sports and politics, we allowed South Africa’s rugby team – the Springboks – to tour New Zealand at the height of the apartheid regime in 1981. It resulted in mass protests, including two so intense that matches were cancelled. Sport, it seemed, could not stand clear of politics, whether by the government’s or the electorate’s interference.

New Zealand’s rejection of apartheid is a relatively simple matter compared with the turbulent nature of India-Pakistan relations. I don’t expect to ever fully understand how it feels to be on either side; all I know for sure is that there are friendly, reasonable, intelligent and kind people in both countries, and some of them still feel genuine hatred for the other. I’d like to think that it’s in everyone’s best interests to be able to carry out a cricket match without worrying about the politics involved, but the lessons of the Springbok tour suggest that isn’t really possible. Posts by friends on Facebook and Twitter in the days since the Pakistan tour itinerary was announced would seem to back that up. The political conflicts – Kargil, Mumbai and all – are unavoidable, not so much the elephant in the room as the bull in cricket’s china shop.

As a cricket fan, I hope the tour produces some good contests and strong individual performances. Both Pakistan and India have some outstanding players, and Pakistan are looking more together as a team than they have for years. For these reasons, it would be nice if the matches could go ahead. Nevertheless, the political context surrounding the tour looks likely to be remembered for a lot longer than the cricket itself. More than casting a shadow over the cricket, politics is an active participant in it. Politics is the dressing-room tyrant, the meddling administrator, the naming rights sponsor and potentially even the star player. This is just how it is with India versus Pakistan.

Photo credit: www.defence.pk

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“You are doubtlessly aware that I am a common man, and then a soldier. It has been my training from the very childhood to avoid limelight and publicity. I have chosen a profession where I have been taught to be a soldier, and nothing beyond that.” - Major Dhyan Chand

The Olympics fever has boiled down. Our players have returned home with glittering medals to cherish, and stories to tell. With the growing interest of Indians in sport and India’s uphill journey in the Olympics medal tally, we pray that most of these sportsmen will achieve greater heights and fame. We pray that they will not be forgotten.

Let’s also not forget the one man who lived during times when sportsmen were meant to be forgotten. Let’s not forget the three times Olympic gold medalist from India – who died penniless. Today is a very important day for sportsmen in India – 29th of August is instituted as National Sports Day as it happens to be the birthday of legendary Indian hockey wizard Major Dhyan Chand.

Major Dhyan Chand’s contribution to the field of team hockey goes beyond what can be written here. He was a true gentleman and a lover of the game. A magnificent center-forward – Dhyan Chand is eternally remembered for his goal making feats. His rigor and obstinate passion for the field saw him bring 3 Gold Medals to India from the Olympics held in 1928, 1932 and 1936.

On the field he was named the “Wizard of Hockey” for he exerted complete control on the ball. It appeared that the ball was stuck to his hockey stick while playing. So great was the magic of Dhyan Chand that the Tokyo officials broke his hockey stick to search for a magnet inside, and then tried to console themselves saying he had added some sort of glue. On one occasion, a lady from the audience asked Dhyan Chand to play with her walking stick instead. He was supposedly so fast that TV analysis of his gameplay was rendered too slow.

An army man, when selected for 1928 Olympics in Amsterdam, Dhyan Chand was unstoppable. India scored 29 goals and conceded none. Of the total 69 goals scored by all participating teams, Dhyan Chand alone scored 14. The media described the Indian hockey team as the eastern typhoon.

In the 1932 world tour, when the Indian Hockey team also participated in and won the Los Angeles olympics, India scored 338 goals and conceded only 34. Dhyan Chand scored 133 goals.

During a 1935 tour of New Zealand and Australia, he scored 201 goals out of the team’s tally of 584 in 43 matches. Don Bradman and Dhyan Chand once came face to face at Adelaide in 1935. After watching Dhyan Chand in action, Don Bradman remarked “He scores goals like runs in Cricket”.

In the 1936 Berlin Olympics, Indians were again unstoppable. In the finals against the hosts, it is believed that after trailing by 6 goals, the Germans resorted to foul play. In a clash with the German goalkeeper, Dhyan Chand broke one of his teeth, but was soon back in action scoring 6 of the goals in the final match won 8-1.

After victory in Berlin, the team raised the Indian tricolour in the dressing room and sang Vande Mataram, instead of the British national anthem, which they were obliged to sing. Impressed by his performance, Adolf Hitler supposedly offered to make Dhyan Chand a Field Marshal in the German army but was refused.

Dhyan Chand retired from his defense service as a Major at the age of 51. He continued contributing to the game even after his retirement. He earned a diploma in coaching from the National Institute of Sports in Patiala, Punjab and was positioned as the Hockey Coach Chief at the National Institute of Sports in Patiala.

However, he died penniless in 1979, uncared for in a hospital, receiving a meagre pension. A year after his death, the Indian Postal Service issued a commemorative stamp in his honour and a stadium, the Dhyan Chand National Stadium in New Delhi, was renamed in tribute.

Since his death, Major Dhyan Chand’s birthday is celebrated as the National Sports Day of India. On this day, schools and sports academies across the nation organize annual sports events in fervent patriotic zeal. The lifetime achievement awards in sports, which is regarded as the highest in the field in India – the Dhyan Chand Award, initiated in 2002 – is given away on this day.

A Special Award distribution event at Rastrapati Bhawan makes this day even more memorable for many. Popular and renowned sport-related awards like the Rajiv Gandhi Khel Ratna, Arjuna Award and Dronacharya Award are presented by the President of India, to great sportsmen of the year.

From a sorry state of affairs, India is slowly emerging as a nation where sports people are being recognized. India winning 6 medals in London Olympics is a testament to the journey Indian sports has undertaken. But this has happened at the price of the unconditional efforts laid by numerous people who lived just for the love of the game. Major Dhyan Chand’s name shines brightest in the list of these selfless sportsmen.

Today, as the nation celebrates it’s national sports day, let’s not forget the wizard – and his magic.

Photo credit: thehindu.com

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When I met with Magic Bus’ Kate Snow last week, I expected our discussion to cover a basic profile of the charity. What I came away with, however, was a deeper understanding of how activities and sport has been used methodically and metaphorically to inspire change. The charity has worked successfully with underprivileged children across India, helping them to overcome obstacles through action. We talked mainly of 16 year Gulafsha Kamrulhodda Ansari who, after her experience with the Julie Foudy Sports Leadership Academy in San Francisco went on to be selected to come to London as part of the 2012 Olympic celebrations.

16 year old Gulafsha, a girl from Mahim Bombay, found her way to the JFSLA course through a Magic Bus initiative. There, she joined a team of girls and learnt a series of both soccer and and leadership skills. It was precisely this combination that helped the girls towards their next challenge, to suggest a social cause that they could personally support. Gulafsha’s cause, was chosen and will see her come to London through the Macdonald’s “Choose to Matter” contest in August.

What makes Gulafsha’s story interesting, particularly for Magic Bus, is that they’ve seen her develop through their work. A slum childhood is, as one can imagine, a difficult one, but through Magic Bus’ mentoring and support, Gulafsha’s development has received not only the practical benefits of sport – but the psychological ones too. Magic Bus has made a point of using activities and sport to bring out the leadership and troubleshooting skills required in everyday life. One could argue, that armed with the right attitude and skill set – sport can help enhance the quality of any life, regardless of background. Kate mentioned examples of exercises where the girls would dribble or climb walls – and then be encouraged to relate the obstacle in sport to the ones in everyday life.

It was precisely this ideology that inspired Matthew Spacie, founder, to shape the charity in the way that he has. Spacie, will also this year be involved in the Olympic celebrations as a torchbearer. It was Spacie who first saw the potential of Sport as a means of instilling a variety of skills. Though you could teach sports to anyone at any age, you wouldn’t necessarily be able to encourage them turn up to an interview on time, speak to someone in a particular way – or channel the skills learnt in one arena to another. This prompted him to concentrate his focus on the young and mentor them in a way that would keep sharp in the wider world around them.

For Gulafsha – simply being at the 2012 London Olympics will mark a major milestone in the journey she has made from troubled, humble beginnings – to the ultimate sporting event. As the adage goes, give a man a fish and you feed him for a day – but give him a net and you feed him for a lifetime. This parallels the work of Magic Bus and their sporting relationship. Moreover, in introducing skills rather than material contributions, they’ve succeeded at developing low-cost, sustainable method of running the charity. Whatever Gulafsha has learnt, can now be passed on to her friends and members of her community.

It is hoped that this idea will uphold itself in an ever-expanding community. Kate mentioned that only 1% of girls will graduate from school, this is an alarming number when you consider the potential teaching that’s on offer. Through introducing sustainable learning in sport – the method helps many children, who despite India’s growth – still continue to experience poverty. As I’ve touched on in some of my posts before – India’s burgeoning economy hasn’t always relayed benefits to the lowest denominations in society. Sport, therefore, is a subject that can transcend this, and Gulafsha’s story is testament to this.

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Disclaimer: I’m NOT a die-hard Indian fan of cricket. I like and respect it for being another great sport like hockey, tennis, basketball or soccer.

Chennai’s assault against Bangalore last Thursday evening was nothing short of a stunner. So much that its joy added to the Tamil New year celebrations on Friday. Milliseconds after watching the triumph on TV, I grabbed my Mac to log into Facebook and like all the pages, wall-posts and status-updates that roared for the Super Kings.

The win obviously brought in praise from the CSK fan community online, but there were also the occasional comments by people bashing the revered Indian Premiere League. Wait, they aren’t the football-loving cricket-hating gang. These ones are from the haters-for-sake-of-hating squad. All of them whining about the evil money making machine and commercial demon that the IPL supposedly is. I’ve observed this group of people ever since IPL started, and for the most part, their argument seems logical. Not.

Yeah, you heard me right. IPL is one of the best things that has happened to India as a country lately. Bashing it purely on the basis of a few controversies is a lame thing to do. In that case, we’d have to hate mobile phones, spiritual gurus, and even sex. Because in India, controversy is part of almost everything – it’s pretty much a way of life. Although TRP ratings have fallen (marginally) over the years, that’s mainly because we’ve been suffering a cricket overdose. On that point I will concede, because even I believe that “too much of anything is good for nothing”. But saying that IPL sucks on the whole due to that is blasphemous.

Marvelous Money Machine

There is a lot of money in the game. True. And what’s wrong with that? That we don’t have this kind of moolah in hockey or soccer? On the flip side, USA has loads of cash in basketball but why hasn’t it used some of that to develop cricket there? Or Nigeria in hockey? It’s not only the pompous BCCI that is cashing in from IPL. In all nine cities, it’s spun a makeshift economic cycle. From ball pickers, to attendants, drivers, cleaners and security staff, who’d otherwise be unemployed in stadiums that mostly lie idle. It’s employed a humongous amount of blue-collar labour. I understand that a lot of it may be black money, but since our netas continually flop in trying to stop black money trading, isn’t this a better way in keeping that money translucent at least, than shipping it to someone’s personal Swiss account? Unless, say you’re of the kind who’d stop reading this now, to go and overthrow the government!

Corporate Celebration

The corporate saga of IPL, though a little overdone (only from the ad-banner point of view), still isn’t anything that could be termed a “commercial hungama”. Think rationally. Money is important and business houses back every successful sporting league on this planet. It happens right from the EPL to the NBA. And economically, that’s a no-brainer because no kind of game can generate enough money by ticket sales alone. Corporate sponsorship is great. For Indian companies, seeing their brand being displayed on an international stage must be a moment of elation. As for the multinationals, we should be proud of how almost all of them take interest in the Indian market, reaching the customer in the best possible way. Volkswagen and Vodafone are perfect examples.

Tapping the Talent

IPL has burst open a huge talent lock. For cricketers, we’ve certainly had the Ranji Trophy and the like but IPL makes it a lot more streamlined, accessible and delightful, especially the way local talent is allowed to groom and rub shoulders with international talent. Its given society a great opportunity to like international players, appreciate them, and move away from the sense of sadistic pleasure derived from laughing at the OZies for just one national ODI win against them. But IPL has moved beyond cricketers. Those adorable Zoozoo’s and the series of leg-pulling Virgin adverts were creations by Indian brains. IPL provides a recognizable platform for such display of talent.

India Inspiring

International appeal. This is by far the best thing IPL has done for us, and also my favorite argument. For a country that is always stereotyped by the international media in a negative light, IPL has stunned the world about how modern India can be as rich and exquisite too. We’re not just about curry or slumdog shitholes. We can drink, dance and party. We can have fun, and we can produce the baap of fun. We can also make more money in just five years, than you could only dream of, while having all this fun. Thus, international participants – players, officials, and technical staff – have tasted the richness in cultural diversity that we have, and not to mention, all the pampering and love. Its how we love to treat our guests, and I’m sure they’re glad about being part of IPL. It has also shown our organization capabilities. IPL is one perfect example to show the coming of Indian dominance. And I love that beyond description!

Certainly, IPL has had its problems. The principal one being the scam it created, but everyone has gotten over that. Personally, I only miss Lalit Modi as the head honcho. Yes, I love charismatic, autocratic leaders – Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Lalit Modi. They don’t sit like suit-clad wussies in AC cabins making presentations about what went wrong. They have the charisma, and they make things happen. Mr. Modi brought the IPL for us, and at least I’m happy about that.

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The past week marked two pivotal events in Indian cricket. One was long awaited. The other was dreaded. While Sachin made his hundredth hundred in international cricket, Dravid retired. A lot is being written and said about Sachin. I dedicate this article to Dravid, the man who played for the love of the game and just that.

The precise movement of feet, the stillness of head, the opening of the stance to counter a swinging ball, the last-minute leave, the pivot of the heel, the perfect balance of the body at the moment of impact, the cover drives, the student like focused expression – well these are some things for which Dravid will be remembered, forever.

Dravid’s ability and technique is only half the story – the half which has been told, and retold, again and again. But Rahul Dravid is much more than that. The other less used descriptions, which define him are dignity, fair-mindedness, eloquence, gentleness and determination.

He is the kind of man we’d want our son to grow into.

A selfless team man, Dravid could pop up in the most unlikely of places. He played at every position – from number one to seven in the test team. He opened the innings with Virender Sehwag in Pakistan, wore the wicket-keeper’s gloves for one-day internationals to let dada get the balance right. He even wore the captain’s cap for the team whenever he was asked.

Like a soldier, he did his duty. It was all part of Dravid’s unsaid commitment for the team. He was never too proud to seek advice. Greatness was not handed to him; he pursued it diligently, single-mindedly.

In spite of some incredible records, surprisingly, Dravid received only 14 man of the match awards in One Day Internationals, and 9 in test matches. These statistics have something incredible to say about this man. He never played for himself.

When Dravid scored 95 on his debut, it was Ganguly hitting the headlines for scoring his debut century. When Dravid scored 153 against NZ in 1999, it was Sachin’s 186 which made the news. And when Laxman and Dravid pulled off an unbelievable win in the Kolkata Test against the Aussies, Laxman 281 made the news, and not Dravid’s 180. Time and again he was there, like a wall, supporting the other player to climb over him. He silently stood like the wall between abject submission and victory. He was always there.

Although, not naturally aggressive in his batting, one of his most remarkable achievements was the way he continually changed, adapted and fine-tuned his game. He was a relentless student in the pursuit of perfection.

Cricket will never be the same without Rahul Dravid. We are lucky to have witnessed one of the greatest cricketers of the game who combined skill with grace, elegance and humility.

Soon, another batsman will be placed as the number three batsman in the team’s batting line up, but no one, absolutely no one, will ever be able to replace Rahul Dravid.

Take a bow, sir.

Photo credit: hitforsixcricket.com

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“Well, I am not feeling anything right now, the feeling hasn’t sunk in yet. But I have lost about 50 kgs.”
-Sachin Tendulkar, 16th March 2012

It took 33 international innings for him to add that last vital notch, but Sachin Tendulkar has scored his hundredth international hundred. That’s right, his 100th international 100: 51 in Tests, 49 in one-day internationals. This is a mark that very few players reach in all forms of the game, let alone at the highest possible level. It is, quite simply, one of the most extraordinary achievements in cricket history. It might even warrant a mention in the pantheon of records across all sport.

For Sachin, though – he’s usually referred to by his first name, out of a sense of belonging that’s half ownership and half identification – this hundredth hundred mark is just another in a long list of achievements. He has by far the most runs in either Test or one day international cricket; he was the first man to score 200 runs in a one day international; he has played more Tests and one day internationals than any other player. His feats even go back to his school days: at 16, he and Vinod Kambli put on 664 playing for Shardashram Vidyamandir, an all-cricket record partnership until 2006. Among everything Sachin has done in cricket, scoring 100 100s is one of the more arbitrary statistics.

That’s how he would like it to have been, too. Sachin’s words to Ramiz Raja, while being interviewed after setting the record against Bangladesh, were both relieved and immensely weary. He began by saying he felt 50kgs lighter, which is probably a gross understatement, and went on to give a sense of the pressure he has felt from the entire Indian nation since hitting number 99. It has built and built, overshadowing all other discourse related to Indian cricket. Sachin made sure to point out that it was not he who piled on that weight but his own fans, the adoring billion, the hordes who identify with him so closely.

There is no doubt that Sachin is a case of rare talent. He clearly had uncommon gifts as a teenager and became comfortable at the highest level at an absurdly young age. The sad story that runs parallel to Sachin’s, however, is that of Vinod Kambli. Arguably even more talented, an Indian Brian Lara, Kambli never adjusted to the cauldron of being an Indian batting superstar and saw his test career peter out before the age of 24. Where one fell by the wayside, the other somehow coped.

This, for me, is the true greatness of Sachin. He was blessed with uncanny hand-eye coordination, balance and ability to ‘see’ exactly where to hit the ball so that he would beat the fielder, among many other gifts that it would take too long to list. But the really incredible thing about Sachin is that he has relentlessly applied each of these talents for more than twenty years against the best in his field. And if there was a weakness that natural talent did not cover, or that his particular natural talent exposed him to, he’d solve it: Shane Warne recalls that for one Sydney test he completely eliminated the cover drive from his game, fearing that it was getting him out too often. He scored 241 not out; thereafter, he slowly worked the shot back into his repertoire.

Against Bangladesh, he did it again, weathering the repeated psychological blows of the past year to finally break out into open space again. How long will it be before that open space fills with yet more doting fans? Only time will tell. (In an interesting twist, Bangladesh improbably won the match, with Sachin’s slow scoring rate widely blamed. In my view, this confirmation that Bangladesh is becoming a competitive international team is much more important for the game than Sachin breaching yet another impossible frontier.)

Back to those 50kgs. When India won the World Cup at home in 2011, Sachin Tendulkar was carried around the ground by adoring teammates. He was, to each of them, an idol long before they ever got to play alongside him. Virat Kohli, a young superstar-in-the-making, calmly said, “He’s carried the burden of the nation for 21 years, so it’s time we carried him on our shoulders.” On that day Sachin scored 18 – a glorious, tantalising 18 with two marvellous drives, long before anyone started waiting impatiently for the next three-figure score.

Now, in the post-hundredth hundred world, I wonder how much Sachin weighs. Somewhere between 60-70kgs, I’d guess. Not far off. So now that all fans of Indian cricket (and therefore all fans of Sachin) can breathe a sigh of relief and amazement, perhaps we won’t mind taking on those discarded 50kg for him – as his teammates did almost a year ago. It was us that laid them on him in the first place. And anyway, it’s a weight made up of stunning achievements, as beautiful and extraordinary in a plain scorecard as they are in every perfect back foot drive or whip to backward square. I’m sure nobody will mind lugging that around for the rest of their lives, examining it whenever they wish. It will be like carrying him, and his greatness, as a constant inspiration among men.

Photo credit: mirror.co.uk

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Indians love cricket and Indian cricket loves Sachin and his quest for the 100th ton. And as I write this post, he walks back to the pavilion with a score of 41. It has been almost an year since we began reading about it in various papers. Before every match there was speculations on whether this would be the “One”. I am sorry, not speculation but every match was supposed to be the “One” where the “God of Indian Cricket” was to conquer the ultimate hurdle and cement his place as the supreme deity forever. SCG was his ground and most papers had already begun to call it, the Sachin Cricket Ground.

It has been a case of a complete media hype. Since, the World Cup triumph, our cricketing fortunes have gone down faster than the sketch of a rectangular hyperbola in the first quadrant. And to top it all, in a nation crazy about Cricket, other sports and sport-stars are given step-motherly treatment. Is a Cricketing landmark so important that it should eclipse every thing else in the sports pages for such a long time?

Moreover, we are trying to hide the fact that we are performing poorly in the sport, based on a hope that one of it’s icons is going to create a record. And even if he does, then at what cost? When what we need is the battle training of the younger recruits, we are sticking to an old war horse. If the 2011 World Cup win was enough to satisfy our hunger, then I am sorry to say, we can kiss our dreams of becoming a Cricketing superpower good-bye.

Hero worshipping is not a bad thing. We all have heroes we look up to, but sometimes when the adulation for a hero breaches the borders of fanaticism, it becomes ugly. Over arching expectations of admirers cannot but affect the mind of any player and causes unnecessary tension.

When Glenn McGrath said that India would lose 4-0, social networking sites were filled with die hard supporters, attacking him and his remarks. But, besides being a supporter, one should also see that there seems to be some truth to his statement. As a supporter of my country, nothing would please me more than watching my National Team establish it’s dominance, but that looks rather bleak whilst our mind is obsessed elsewhere. A wait that takes such a long time and at the cost of so many matches, is not worth it in my personal opinion. And Sachin has taken a hell lot of time, to try and reach his goal.

Now, I am not a Sachin hater but am not a big fan either (personally, I will always place the batting talents of Rahul Dravid a notch higher), but this hoopla over a century is beginning to irk. Why are we acting as if the 100th hundred is our god-damn right and that the other teams are standing on it. No, my dear Sachin fanatics, the other teams are not going to hand it to him on a silver platter, so stop acting like they should. And if not, then as someone had pointed out on twitter “lets have a match on a flat track against a minnow team and get it done with”. Maybe then we would be able to focus on more important stuff, like regaining the top position in the ICC Test Rankings.

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I’ve started spending more and more time at the M. Chinnaswamy Cricket Stadium here in Bangalore.  As media spokesperson for the upcoming KPL (Karnataka Premier League) season I am now starting to go to the stadium more frequently for meetings with the KSCA (Karnataka State Cricket Association).  And as the head of marketing for one of the KPL teams, the Bijapur Bulls, I hit the stadium clubhouse periodically to meet with potential sponsors and partners.  The stadium is fantastic and I love watching the practice sessions.  Running around the stands sort of freaks the players out and distracts them a bit ‘cuz they aren’t used to seeing a white girl running around the empty stadium, which I find quite fun!

For me, I wasn’t exposed to cricket back in California when I was a kid so until I moved to Europe 18 years ago I was completely unfamiliar with the sport.  And in Spain we saw a lot more futbol but here in India it is impossible not to be entranced and 100% sucked into cricket.  It’s the national pastime.

And for whatever reason, or for a bunch of reasons, women find cricket players extremely attractive, if not more attractive than other guys.  Well, at least my girlfriends do!  Maybe it’s sportsmen in general we find attractive but I have a few ideas about why we women adore cricketers.  Now surely my list will fall short of all the reasons why, so please feel free to comment after and round out my list.

Here are a few of my reasons:

• Confidence:  it certainly takes – excuse me for this – balls to get out there in front of thousands or millions of people and do ANYTHING, especially something that is “live” and you don’t get any do-overs when you screw up.  I mean, when I am writing I can delete and you never know about my goof-ups.  But not cricket players.  They stand tall, walk proud and WORK IT every time they play.  And that is certainly attractive.
• Sex appeal: I think probably the confidence and sex appeal could be considered one thing in my book but these guys look cool in their sunglasses and tracky bottoms running around the field.  They generally have great attitudes and smiles and that is hot.
• Fame: I know none of us want to admit it but there is definitely something fun about being able to see action photos in a magazine or newspaper of your favourite cricketer – or watch them on TV.  That “star power” is something that is universal anywhere around the world and most people are drawn into the glow, whether we want to admit it or not.  The more famous someone is, the more they become like a brand – and we all have our favourite brands!
• Fit body: Of course this is on the list!  In the U.S., our sports heroes don’t always have to be fit given what sport or possibly what position they play, for example football line backers.  But here, the cricketers all seem to be in shape and have the most amazing arms.  And if they would just get a bit more excited like the Spanish footballers and take their shirts off after a great play – I bet they have amazing abs under their uniforms too!
• Talent: They are the best of the best so that makes them power guys.  At least to me, power is sexy when it’s used for good and not evil.
• Uniform:  I love a man in a uniform!  I suppose that was how the musical group the Village People originally became so popular back in the 70s!!  Military, Star Wars Rebel Alliance, pilots, super heroes, policemen…it doesn’t matter.  Hell, I even dated an actor who played a cop and THAT was sexy to me even though I knew he was just playing dress up!  Uniforms rock, and cricket uniforms are just slightly baggy where they should be and snug where it counts.  They certainly beat the very unattractive basketball uniforms (sorry, guys!).

Now don’t get me wrong, there is much more to a man than how he looks and what he does for a living.  Just like there is an ocean of complexity and spirit behind every woman’s eyes.  I am certainly not suggesting that all male cricketers are great guys, amazing husbands or perfect friends.  But… I am looking forward to getting to know a few of them better soon when KPL starts up.  So I will have to check back to confirm if what is on the inside is as delightful as the packaging!

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