Why Sri Lanka Deserved To Win Yesterday's T20

If you're a cricket fan, you probably know of the events that took place in Melbourne yesterday between Sri Lanka and Australia. For those of you who aren't, however, let me recap.

Sri Lanka were playing Australia in their second and final T20 match at Melbourne. After winning their first T20 match, Sri Lanka had a chance of winning the T20 series and going home on a high note, especially after they lost the test series and drew the ODI series. After scoring a solid 164 in their allotted 20 overs, rain interrupted the Australian innings, forcing the game to be shortened to a Duckworth/Lewis adjusted total. Fast foward to the final over, and Australia needed 12 runs off the last 3 balls.

Now, here's where things got interesting.

vol fin_to_DivX_clip0 by Ianbishop

There's been quite an uproar about this whole incident from both sides, and quite frankly, almost all of them are wrong. An overwhelming majority of Sri Lankan supporters feel that we were fully within our rights to not only take time during the last delivery but to also retaliate in the way we did. Many cite the history of sledging done by Australian cricketers, especially against Sri Lankans, and justify using 'karma'. Then there are some who feel that we acted in an 'un-gentlemanly manner' and are embarrassed. I was very annoyed to hear the YES FM DJ Shanaka last night discuss the incident at length during his show, as he seemed to be one of those who thought we shouldn't be proud of this win, and that we had violated the "spirit of the game".

 

(He also says "mate" a lot, and that didn't help.)

 

I find all this mildly ridiculous. Who told us sport has to be civilised? The reason we have rules against misconduct is because in any contest of skill, be it boxing or backgammon, people get worked up. Expecting some form of natural decency in sport is like expecting the paparazzi to decline from publishing nude pictures of celebrities. Let's not forget that there was a time when the word 'sport' involved half naked, armed prisoners thrust into a ring with wild animals, fighting for their lives. You didn't have people walking away from the amphitheatre going "Oh well, that last decapitation was a bit much no? Bad manners to slice someones head off from left to right..."

 

I'm not saying we should allow games to descend into madness, but I'm all for allowing people to allow their emotions to get them going as long as it's within the rules of the game. If we expect players to behave under such a strict rule of conduct, up to the point where we don't allow them outbursts of anger or frustration, then we might as well stay at home and watch computer game simulations instead of the real thing.

Recently in the NBA there was a huge hue and cry during the Knicks and Celtics game, because a Celtics player (KG) allegedly insulted a Knicks player's wife during a game, which led to the Knicks player (Carmelo Anthony) not only losing his mind on the court, but also to waiting outside the Celtics team bus once the game was over to confront KG.

 

(Apparently he said his wife tasted like Honey Nut Cheerios, a claim he has since denied but that inevitably led to these t-shirts. I admit, I find it hilarious!)

 

But this is all irrelevant, because guess what - Carmelo took a series of ridiculously bad shots after that incident, made bad decisions, and was basically taken completely out of rhythm. Most importantly, the Celtics won.

 

The same applies here. If you're a professional athlete, with endorsements, a contract to play sport and have made this your livelihood, you better play with the right mixture of head and heart. If something as simple as delaying the game is going to irritate you to such an extent that you feel the need to push things along, perhaps you need some more time in the minor leagues. So what if the Sri Lankan players told him to eff off? Did he expect them to fall at his feet and immediately heed his words and bowl? Tempers flared, and for a change the Sri Lankans channeled their aggression at the opponent instead of themselves. A seasoned player would have recognised it for what it was - a simple, basic time wasting strategy aimed at unsettling the batsman. Hiding behind the vague and ambiguous "spirit of the game" banner will do you no favours, because at the end of the day contest has been designed to pick a winner, not the most gracious in defeat. 

 

Was it rude? Definitely; no one is denying that, and certainly Mahela's squeaky clean image will be tarnished. I'm sure he won't mind. Was it good for the sport? Perhaps not, but let's be honest; the cameras and mics don't catch everything that goes on during a game, be it cricket, basketball or any sport for that matter. Players say a lot of stuff in order to get under their opponent's skin. Michael Jordan, perhaps the greatest player of all time was known to be a an especially good (and by that I mean bad) trash talker. Do you think he'll be remembered for that or for the 6 championship rings? Exactly.

 

David Warner and the crew can say what they want about the win, as well as the Channel 9 commentators. The bottom line is that while it wasn't pretty, the Sri Lankan team did nothing wrong.  No, the Sri Lankan's didn't deserve to win this because of karma or some form of justice. They deserved to win because they played like adults in the face of adversity, for the first time in recent memory. They played with fortitude and emotion, and it was the Australians who, for the briefest of moments, wilted like daisies under the glare of the Melbourne lights and a few accented invectives.

 

Women's Sports - Don't Fix The Sport, Fix The Players

Women's sport in general has always been dancing on the precipice of failure.  Take any sport, and the female variant or league is generally struggling to gain revenue and viewership. Women's cricket for instance - next to no interest at all in most of the sub-continent. Women's football exists purely at an amateur level, and a professional level exists mainly in the States as far as I know. Women's tennis does well, thanks mainly to the Williams' sisters and whoever is better looking in a skirt these days. Women's water polo is a horror film of underwater cutting, tearing and scratching.

Then there's women's basketball.

 

 

The WNBA, which is the women's league of the more popular National Basketball Association, has been active since 1997, making it a relatively new league. There are 16 teams, moderate attendances, and average to little interest in the sport. There have been many suggestions on how to improve the interest in the league, and the latest one has me all annoyed.

There are many small variations in the sport internationally, but generally all the principles of the game are the same. Standard court sizes, standard ball size, standard rules except for one or two minor tweaks. Now, the innovators think that we need to change some of these to suit women; they want to reduce the height of the rim from 10 feet to 9'6".

 

There's a reason I'm extremely against this. First of all, it's a silly idea simply because the premise behind this alteration is that women will display more 'high flying' feats of athleticism, thus bringing more people to the games. Secondly, they feel that shooting percentages will go up, thus making it more interesting to watch. Both these assumptions are wrong. The WNBA is not going to have more fans entering stadiums just because a few women will now be able to graze in a two-handed dunk all alone on a fastbreak. Neither are they going to be interested just because the ball goes in 1%-2% more often than earlier.

 

However, the main reason I'm against this is because it - yes I'm going to say this - defiles the sanctity of the sport.

 

Look, sport is rarely made for a particular sex. Suggesting that we alter the height of the rim simply because men are taller makes absolutely no sense to me; what about school yards and colleges? Are we going to have a system that reduces the hoop height just because girls are playing? Is that the message we want to send women anyway, that they're just not tall enough to play with the 'boys'? What about short guys? I haven't played with anyone who came close to being able to dunk; how come we don't have shorter hoops for the sub-continent?

 

Sport is sport; it is universal and applies to both genders equally. By altering the rules to suit women, we set a precedent that kind of negates the point of sports in the first place. If the idea is to see how many times you can shoot a ball into a hoop in 45 minutes, wouldn't it make sense to improve your skill rather than reduce the goal?

 

This whole problem starts because we compare the women's game to the men's game, which is a fundamentally flawed and unfair comparison. Men and women play the game at a very high level, just with different skill sets. While the men's game is definitely more polished and more athletic, it's taken years of evolution to come to this stage. Back in the 60's, it was unheard of to see the kind of dunks, crossovers and blocks we see nowadays. We don't even have to go that far back; just in 2000, Vince Carter's through the legs dunk at the dunk competition had people falling out of the aisles. Now, people expect players to dunk over cars or dunk on two hoops at the same time for anyone to take notice.

 

The women's game will have to make a similar evolution. I'm not saying that women will start performing 'flying death machine' alley-oops (they might though) but the game will definitely improve, given time and input. Let's not forget; the NBA was as good as dead before the famous Lakers - Celtics, Magic Johnson - Larry Bird rivalries of the late 70's and early 80's. That's what got the crowds in, and got television ratings up. The women's game needs that kind of renaissance as well.

 

Not a shorter hoop.

 

Save The Cheerleader, Save The World! - Why There's Nothing Wrong With The T20 Cheerleaders

Sri Lanka is in the grips of an energy crisis, an economic crisis, a human rights crisis and cricket fever! The T20 World Cup is in full swing and right now everyone is glued to their TV's every evening to watch the fireworks on display. However, amidst all the zealous cheering, venomous anti-India slurs and numerous hypothetical scenarios that get Sri Lanka into the finals, there have been steady complaints regarding the tournament. Now this is generally the norm with most any international event, especially those held in the cash-strapped sub-continent. However this time, despite several questionable decisions (such as the utter stupidity in holding any form of sporting event in the ghost town that is Mahinda Rajapakse's backyard aka Hambantota), the bulk of the complaints have been regarding the cheerleaders.

What cheerleaders, you ask? These cheerleaders:

Similar memes are doing the rounds on Facebook and other social network sites, and even some friends who went for the matches shared their pictures of the girls in action, often followed by some over-the-top statement about them being the "disgrace of our country" and how they should be (and I quote) "shot with a sniper rifle".

Right.

There are many things I don't like about the T20 World Cup, chief of them being the fact that there is T20 cricket involved. I also can't stand how every time we host an event like this, the government uses the distraction of the masses to raise fuel prices or take some other more disturbing course of action. But cheerleaders?

Let's be clear about a few things. First of all, according to 'reports', the contractor for the cheerleaders couldn't land any better looking women because the payment was "not that great". Which is silly, really, because it's not so much the girls that people are complaining about, it's the hideous outfits. I guarantee that none of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders (which seem to be the standard everyone compares cheerleaders to) would have looked any better in those dreadful orange, pink and blue leotards. This so-called contractor should be the one on the receiving end of all the heat, not the girls! A 5 year-old could come up with a better outfit by eating crayons and pooping on a colouring book.

Secondly, why do we need cheerleaders at all? Cheerleading is an activity that has its roots in the USA, where no sport is allowed to be boring (even their golf has Tiger Woods). It's been around since the late 19th century, and it's come so far as to be classified as a sport itself by ESPN, complete with a governing body, inter-school and national competitions. While most school and college programmes involve some percentage of males as well, most professional sports teams have focused on good looking scantily clad female dancers, with the male "cheerleaders" being relegated to mascot duty.

So naturally, the concept of female dancers at sport events has migrated internationally, and yet very few European sports use them. Tennis, football, handball etc are conspicuously without cheerleaders. Yet for some reason, cricket (of all sports) had to have them. The Indian Premiere League, that orgy of wealthy, bored billionaires and overpaid cricketers, were more than happy to import some cheerleaders to add to the flash and bang of the tournaments, and perhaps India (despite being the worst G20 country for women) could be justified in using them, given their rich history of provocatively clad movie stars traipsing amongst bushes in the rain for men's attentions.

But Sri Lankan sports have no idea what to do with these cheerleaders. Our sports begin and end with cricket, and cricket has always involved sneaking alcohol in to Premadasa Stadium, getting drunk to the sounds of the multiple bands in the stands, and dancing and taking our shirts off. This is how we 'cheer', and a group of dancing bedazzled girls is only going to act as a distraction, not an incentive. Someone should have thought that through before trying to slap on a borrowed sideshow from India and running with it. Last year's ODI World Cup didn't need them; in fact, I thought the drummers that played for every boundary and wicket were a great idea, and they blended well with the crowd. At least, a lot better than these fluorescent fairies.

Bottom line: the real crime here is not that the cheerleaders fail to be a cross between Miss Universe and Missy Elliot, but that there are cheerleaders at all! Objectifying women under the guise of sports is another topic all together, but while being a cheerleader may be a glamorous and recognised vocation in some countries, it doesn't translate at all well to cricket in Sri Lanka. This isn't a crime, nor is it a reflection of our 'backward culture' as some would like to hint at.

 

We just don't need them.

No Room For Patriotism In Sport

As I type this post, there are a billion and a few people hunched over the tv sets, radios, and computers, watching and listening to the India versus Pakistan World Cup semi-final match, in Mohali. A few lucky thousands are actually at the ground, no doubt waving flags and banners, shouting slogans, singing songs, and cheering what is easily the most anticipated match of the tournament so far, a clash between not just two sides, but two nations with a long, chequered history between them, both on the field and off.

The build up to the match has been huge, and though I do not meet any Indians or Pakistanis at work, my social networks are buzzing with all the taunts and barbs going back and forth. Yet, out of the smoke and gunfire, I noticed an interesting trend where one or two Indians were supporting Pakistan, the 'dreaded enemy'.

This naturally drew the ire of many Indian supporters, who either a) threatened bodily harm to said offender b) labelled him/her a traitor or c) attempted to change their mind.. by threatening bodily harm to them. It was an interesting exchange, as some either had no reason for supporting the boys from across the border, while others simply thought they were a better team, and still others didn't want people being tied to their TV sets on a Saturday night.

I found all this rather amusing, because being a Sri Lankan, we don't have any real hardcore, in-the-blood-and-genes type rivalries to speak of. The closest we have is against Australia, but then who doesn't hate the Australian team and want to beat them at every chance? If you have been following fellow Sri Lankan blogger Pseudorandom's blogs and/or tweets, you will have read her rather well-documented story of dealing with criticism for cheering for both England and Sri Lanka when they played each other in the quarter finals. I don't necessarily agree with it all, but while hers is definitely a rather unique case, I think she makes one or two valid points.

Patriotism is a term that we love to use these days, and we throw it around loosely without really understanding what it means. When exactly does it apply? 

When it comes to almost any sport, there is a lot of freedom of choice. Take for example, if I were to support Manchester City, Arsenal or Newcastle, no one could really argue against it. It's my inalienable right to support whoever I choose to, for whatever reasons I choose. I could support the Lakers because they have hot cheerleaders, or I could support the Red Sox because I like their name. 

But when it comes to teams representing their country, do we really have that much of a choice? When I see anyone wearing the Sri Lankan colours, am I really able to say "Well, this other person is a better player, so I'll support that country instead"? When a team or player says they are playing for their country, do the countrymen have an option to say "well we didn't ask you to"? If we are allowed to choose who we support when it comes to national sport, do the competitors get to choose which country they'd like to represent?

Of course, these are all my personal views, and I cannot fathom all the many individual reasons that people may have for not supporting their national team. Sometimes its as simple as "I don't like the sport, so I don't really care". But while I believe 'patriotism' is not a term that should be associated with national sport, and that at the end of the day, it's still just a game, perhaps we need to re-evaluate what it means to "play for one's country", instead of simply being a fair-weather fan when it suits us. Or filling up stadiums just because the other team is 'the enemy'.

Cricket, Sex And Humour

It's not often that Cricket gets injected with humour, unlike many sports such as football and basketball. The NBA especially has some of the funniest in-game commentary, post-game analysis and is almost as fun as the game itself. Click here, here and here for some proof of what I mean.

However, I stumbled across this article on the Cricinfo Page 2 Section, and I just HAD to share it. Click here to read the original article. Enjoy!

---

Some years ago I remember reading that FIFA World Cup footballers were told by their coaches not to have sex before an important match. Apparently lack of action in bed focused their attention on the field, or sent the energy flowing to their feet, or some such sundried-tomato theory. Now cricketers, it appears, work in opposite ways. Gary Kirsten and Paddy Upton (apparently his real name) made headline news last week with their injunction to the Indian team to get some before a game, allegedly in order to raise their levels of testosterone.

The news that sex improves cricket, if true, may have come too late for some. Sadly we will never know whether Sir Donald Bradman, had he been a bad man, would have been rewarded with those elusive few fractions of a percentage point.

The theory is in its infancy, of course, but one surmises that if this works for the Indians, other teams will follow suit, though hopefully they will also heed the wise advice of Professor Tim Noakes, who pointed out that while a good bout of rumpy-pumpy might be beneficial if followed by a long, sound sleep, hanging around in bars till all hours trying to find a willing subject is likely to have an adverse effect on performance.

Watching my home team get eliminated from the ICC at the hands of England last night made me wonder whether this latest piece of cricket lore might be in any way to blame. Did the English take Upton and Kirsten's instructions to heart, and did following it give them an advantage? Someone with the pre-Raphaelite good looks of Stuart Broad or the tousled cuddliness of Jimmy Anderson wouldn't have had much of a problem finding a participant. Could this have enhanced their already not inconsiderable bowling skills? Collingwood and Onions might have had more difficulty, unless they told the girls their names were Smith and Jones, but even they put up a sound show.

Which brings me to my next question: does a team's collective performance rest on the cumulative level of satisfaction experienced by the individuals in a side? Does some sort of critical-mass theory come into play, where the amount of good sex had by one team is weighed against that had by the other?

If so, the South Africans may need to brush up on their chatting skills. Although they put up a good fight, particularly our gutsy captain with cramp, the early dismissal of some of our finest hitters makes me wonder, since we're pursuing this line of inquiry, whether these players neglected to get their greens, or whether their state of play is perhaps related to their prowess elsewhere. Is it the quality rather than the quantity of sex that makes a difference at the crease? Is a premature exit from the field indicative of anything other than bad light or good bowling by the other side? I hope not, because if this is in any way proved, it opens the door to a dirty-tricks campaign not seen since the incident of the laxative-laced lemon meringue pie.

Just imagine it: a flotilla of beautiful women sent by unscrupulous nations to lure their rivals to their doom - letting them down at a crucial moment, or worse, making them feel inadequate - a fate made all the more excruciating by the fact that these players had been encouraged by their superiors to commit such acts. It's an awful thought.

We have to hope that no self-respecting female cricket fan would stoop so low. There are limits to what one will do for one's national team, or there should be. That said, whoever the skilled damsels were who helped South Africa to their historic 438-for-9 win over Australia in 2006, please would they come back?

Sue de Groot is a Johannesburg-based journalist, columnist and television scriptwriter

T20 a.k.a. Cricket In The Time Of Idiots

And so the glorious T20 World Cup 2009 has come to an end, with Pakistan emerging victorious over the resilient Lankans. It was a fitting end to a spectacular tournament, with both teams playing a high level of cricket and providing the fans with some fantastic play. As the final spectators leave Lord's, I am sure they take many special memories from this World Cup that will no doubt echo through the annals of time.

Wait. I think I just threw up a little.


Let me rephrase: and so this rubbish excuse of a world cup has finally come to an end, with Pakistan leaving the field holding a massive trophy that they will no doubt cherish, seeing as they don't have any other silverware to be proud of anyway.


In case you're having trouble understanding the tone of this post, let me make this clearer: I hate T20!


When T20 first entered the international arena, I looked at it as the ICC's last ditch effort at creating the kind of revenue that other major sports worldwide were generating. It was like the all-star break in the NBA, just a show for the fans. Then some brilliant mind decided that since normal 50-over cricket was the stuff that most European and western nations were either completely ignorant about or made fun of, why not revamp the sport and throw in flashing lights, cheerleaders and explosions? After all, isn't that what makes baseball, basketball and football so popular?


And so we have T20 friendlies, and then we had T20 tournaments, and before you know it we had the inaugural T2o WORLD CUP! A few firecrackers, sixes and hours of over-enthusiastic commentary later, India (or 'Team India' as they like to be called, so as not to be confused with the country of the same name) emerge as so-called "world champions" of the super short format.


T20 has taken cricket to dizzying heights in the last year, with insane amounts of money being paid to cricketers in the Indian Premier League as well as heavy sponsorship for the upcoming Champions League T20 tournament in India this October. But as much as I love cricket, I cannot stomach this new brand that the international cricket bodies seem so desperate to shove down my throat. Sure, this may sound like the arguments put forward by many older cricket pundits, but I am not so much concerned about the 'beauty of the sport' as I am about the actual 'value' of T20.


I tried watching this years world cup, but honestly any match that didn't involve Sri Lanka was just not appealing to me. Some may say that it's more than just slogging but honestly, it isn't! Make the runs quickly or get out. And if you get out, the next person steps in and starts from there. There is no strategy, no technique, and certainly no brains! I mean, the Netherlands beat England in the opening round. The NETHERLANDS! Are you kidding me?! And then this same England squad went on to maul Pakistan (the eventual champions) by 48 runs in the very next game!


Am I just too smart for this game then? Why have we reduced what used to be a game of strategy and endurance into this one-off blink-and-you-miss-it Hollywood-ish TV spectacle? Surely we the spectators have not become so mind-numbingly stupid that we needed a shorter no-holds-barred version of the game to actually enjoy it! Can you imagine if they tried this with other sports? Surely football needs a revamp of sorts - it's been the same for decades! Why not introduce T20 Football? Make the teams line up for 20 penalties instead, seeing as the crowd only want to see goals scored anyway! Or what about T20 Tennis? Instead of weeks of competitions for Wimbeldon, why not just have a single set tie-break to decide the winner of a match? Too short? Fine, make it the first to reach 20 points with a break of two, it IS T20 Tennis after all!


It seems that in an age of microwave cooking and instant coffee, T20 cricket should fit in just fine. But honestly, once all the shine, glamour and gold have faded away from T20, perhaps you too will see it as just another gimmick that the sport really didn't need.

All Heart, All Heart

You probably know by now that I am a bit of a sports junkie (hence the little NBA Playoffs Widget on the sidebar). Cricket, Formula1, Tennis - love them all, but nothing gets my blood pumping like basketball.

The thing about team sports, or any sport for that matter, is that it isn't just about winning or losing. As cliche as it may sound, it is about how you play the game. It would take the combined descriptive powers of Tom Clancy and Dan Brown to illustrate the sheer raw electricity of playing with a good team. "Well oiled machine", another cliche, comes to mind.


While teen movies potray the high school jock as a bit of a brain dead attention seeking neanderthal, I applaud kids that take part in sports. It would be impossible to find a more effective platform to teach the essentials of life.

How to work towards a goal.
How to make sacrifices.
How to work with others.
Communication skills.
How to think on the fly.
How to work according to a plan.
How to handle defeat.
How to handle victory.
How to trust your team mates.
How to shoulder responsibility.


They just don't teach this stuff in class.


However, you could preach technique, strategy, defence and hard work till the cows came home, but if you don't have heart - well, none of that matters.


Two things came to mind while I was writing this. One was an article written about Pat Riley, a legendary coach that led the Lakers to four NBA championships, and cemented them as one of the most dominant teams in basketball. Many years down the line, close to retirement, he finally had his new team, the Miami Heat, into the NBA Finals for the first time in franchise history.

Dwyane Wade and Gary Payton had gotten into it during an early round playoff game; someone taking the other’s shot. All of a sudden Pat Riley could see the 2006 postseason going the way of all his others since he had left the Showtime Lakers.

No matter how good, tough and disciplined he made the New York Knicks or these Miami Heat, they always fell short. What once seemed almost easy had become all but impossible.

He had fired his protégé in midseason and installed himself as coach again to make sure this opportunity, his last best chance at a title, wasn’t wasted. He couldn’t have petty stuff ruin it.

For all the fancy suits and slicked-back hair that he used to glamorize the coaching profession, Riley was still an old-school basketball soul out of working-class Schenectady, N.Y., and the University of Kentucky, the son of a minor-league baseball coach and a believer in every motivational ploy he could muster.

So right in the middle of the playoffs, he decided to have a big container built in the Heat locker room. The next game he pushed a wheel barrow full of little cards with pictures of the players’ families on one side and the motto “15 Strong” (as in 15 teammates) on the other. Each game, home and away, he’d bring out more cards to remind each player just what they were really playing for.

It was more than a bit trite, more than a bit hackneyed and it more than a bit worked. It worked so well, in fact, that here was Riley, standing over his pen in the final minutes before Game 6 of the NBA Finals against Dallas, his Heat just one game from a title.

All eyes on him in a silent locker room, he pulled out a set of rosary beads with five NBA championship rings hanging from it. Four were from his days coaching Magic Johnson’s Lakers. One was as a reserve player on Wilt Chamberlain’s.

With Shaq and D-Wade and Alonzo and the rest watching, Riley held the beads and rings up high and then threw them into the pen.

“I will give all five of those up to win this one,” he said.

The players, all those millionaires, went charging out the door like a high school team. Forty-eight minutes later, they returned as champions.

- By Dan Wetzel, Yahoo Sports

The other thing that came to mind was this scene from "Any Given Sunday".

So perhaps it IS just a game, and sometimes it IS just about winning and losing, but sometimes - just sometimes - it's all about heart.

Pool Side Poetry/Philosophy... And Jet Skis!

After much whining and complaining on my part, the family finally decided to flee the confines of our home and spend two days in Beruwela, seeing as the entire country was going on vacation anyway. What better way to relax and unwind after a stressful and unproductive couple of months than to soak up some sun down south? Some water sports, a few hours in the pool, the soothing sounds of the ocean, fine cuisine and air conditioned comfort - the perfect environment to be enlightened and rejuvenated! What could possibly go wrong?


Lots apparently. Just before leaving home, I asked the parents what time we were planning on leaving. "530am should be okay", they say. What?? Who wakes up at that ungodly hour to go on a holiday?? Miraculously, I stumbled out of bed at the required time, despite having only 2 hours of sleep under my (belt?). Blindly carry bags to jeep, collapse in back seat, and we're off!


Five hours, one "Don & Sons" breakfast, one stop at Abans for a frying pan (don't ask, for the life of me I cannot understand the urgency to buy kitchen utensils on the way to the beach) and several complaints of "are we there yet??" later, we turned up at the Riverina. Now, this was one of those carefully planned out vacations, unlike the usual lets-just-pick-a-place-and-a-hotel-and-go trips that my family usually goes on. Apparently there was a special offer during the 'festive season' (though the last time I checked, that was December) and we were now entitled to free non-motorised water sports as well as a 20% discount on the motorised water sports, plus a free lunch before our departure.


After our complimentary fruit cocktail and an awkward moment when my dad politely declined their offer to wash his car (they'd have had better luck offering to paint his toe nails), we checked into our rather comfortable rooms and had a quick lunch. The plan was simple: relax all afternoon and evening either on the beach or at the pool, jet ski the next day. I for one was looking forward to the pool more than the water sports - yes, I just wanted to laze around, sue me.


So it was no surprise that it started to rain just as I was about to get into my trunks. And not just a passing shower - no, it was that special torrential downpour that hits only when you need the sun the most.


Much to my annoyance, we now had no option but to sit on our king sized beds and watch what had to be the worst movie in the history of mankind ("Black Sheep"). I use the word 'watch' rather loosely though: it was more stare-at-tv-turn-to-each-other-shake-head-in-disbelief. Yes, day 1 was in a washout in every sense of the word, the only saving grace being the Foosball and table tennis with the brother.


On to day 2, and it started - early - in the form of getting a wake up call from mom at 7am. This is just not what I associated with this supposed holiday, though by now I was getting rather good at blindly brushing my teeth and getting ready. Stumble out of room (again), stumble to breakfast (again), and thank the heavens for holding back the rain! Not one to tempt the man upstairs though, I made a run for my trunks as soon as breakfast was done, and me and the bro hit the beach.


Now, if you've been reading this blog for a while, you'd know that I have absolutely no affinity to the so-called 'poetic writing' that is so prevalent in the blogosphere. I just don't seem to get it. Still, here I was at a beach, and if others could find some form of spiritual or mental 'epiphany' while observing the waves, surely I could to! I tried my best to channel some form of beach-induced poetic-aura, but all i could get was something along these lines:

Oh waves
Rolling in and out
Like
The ocean!
And
Oh how pretty
So pretty
(Err)
Washing over my soul like
The ocean!
You are my secret
Lover
Swimming like a fish in
The ocean!
.....
Salt in my wounds like sand in my shoes
(wait, that's a song by Dido. Dammit!)

Yes, as you can see, that didn't go too well. So instead I thought I'd try my hand at philosophical thinking.


Me [turning to floating head of brother]: Err...
Bro's Head: .... what?
Me: Oh did you see that coconut? In the water?
Bro: No.
Me: You know, a coconut could float in the ocean for hundreds of years before finally finding shore and then it would still, you know, like, work.
Bro: Shut up men..
Me: No, I'm serious, coco - [gets blindsided by wave]


After emerging spluttering and half choking from that little experiment, I decided to leave the clever thinking to those that have their thoughts more in order. Or have better companions.


The morning went by rather quickly, and soon we were on our way to the marina. In my mind's eye, I had pictured a proper 'marina' with power boats and yachts and people going diving and snorkeling and para-gliding and - well, you get the idea. So I was only slightly disappointed when we drove into a tiny cove that was about the size of a two car garage with a tiny single engine boat and a shack filled with life jackets that looked like they wouldn't save a flailing rodent, let alone a drowning man. At the hotel they told us to speak to the Captain and he'd tell us what was the best things to do etc. Well, the 'captain' turned out to be a sunburnt Lankan in a worn out diving suit with tinted waist length hair and an eyebrow ring. He looked more concerned with where his next joint was coming from rather than what to 'recommend' to us hapless 'sailors'.


"Jet Skis" I said firmly, and that was decided.


Half an hour later and I was thoroughly satisfied. I had been on quad bikes in Dubai, but this was a totally different experience altogether! Having 800cc's attached to your index would give anyone an adrenalin rush, and I definitely enjoyed myself.


Also, since certain people seemed to have a problem with me being headless all the time, I thought I'd post a proper picture.



And so ended our Beruwela vacation. All in all a rather 'fun' weekend, thought perhaps next time I should take the advice of my coastal counterparts and stick to the hills during the rainy season.

The Basketball Analogies

I love analogies. A good analogy is like a beautiful tour guide - even if you don't understand her properly, you still get the general idea; and if you don't, you still tell everyone how wonderful she was.


From the above statement, I guess it's pretty clear that while I may have a fascination for the art, I myself am no Van Gogh when it comes to.... oh hell, basically my analogies suck! But I make do with what my rather controlled imagination gives me.


I love basketball, with a passion. And just like every other person that is passionate about something, to me life is somewhat similar to basketball. So here are a few basketball analogies, just off the top of my head.


1. The Next Shot Is Going In

If you're a shooter, one of the biggest problems you can have in a game is if your shot is not falling. You get open looks, you find your spots on the floor, but no matter how hard you concentrate that ball just refuses to go in. Too long, too short, too much arc - suddenly you're thinking about things you never did while taking a shot. Should I get inside more? Am I jumping enough? Should I try the other side? In your desperation to try and get the shot in, you start reinventing your entire shooting motion in your head or on the fly, trying things that aren't helping you in any way.

So what do you do? If I may steal a line from 'Rocky Balboa' - "shooter's shoot". If you're a shooter, you have to believe the next shot is going in before it leaves your hand. You need to keep throwing that ball up, because the only way to break even after missing your first five shots is to make the next five.

How often in life do we find people that quit after one failure, one wrong decision, one 'air-ball'? Just because it doesn't work out for you now, or tomorrow, or the next week, doesn't mean you stop trying. Unfortunately we live in a world that is brought up on instant coffee, instant noodles, fast food and the the internet. Everything has to happen NOW. No one wants to wait it out.

Maybe we should learn to keep shooting.

2. Taking One For The Team

'Driving the lane' is when a player aggressively attacks the basket by dribbling straight in towards the hoop, and is sometimes the most effective way of putting points on the board. See, if you are fouled in the act of shooting, and the shot goes in, you get to take a free throw which is worth another point. If you make the free throw, you end up scoring 3 points from one possession. So if you think about it, you could either take the chance of scoring three points by shooting the ball from the three-point line which is 23 feet away, or you could be brave, drive the lane, get banged up among the 'trees' (the taller players that are usually positioned around the rim) and take one for the team.

While there's nothing wrong in shooting a 3 pointer, when it comes down to the wire, sometimes it's best to take the route less travelled to ensure that no matter what, you either make the shot or you at least draw some contact to stop the clock and go to the free throw line to make some easy points. Win - win situation.

I have these phases in life where instead of manning up and getting my hands dirty, I rather sit away from the action and take the long-distance option. Sure, perhaps I can solve the problems that way too, but more often than not the only way to make sure things get done is to get inside and get hurt. As long as the 'ball' goes in.


3. The Last Shot

It's the fourth quarter. You're down by one point, and there's only seconds remaining in the game. Call a timeout, gather around the coach. There's time for just one shot. Coach looks at you. Your heart stops. He's going to draw up a play for you, you know it. You're going to be taking the shot. "Alright, draw this defender out, drive, and throw it out to X." He turns to your team mate - "X! Make this shot, boy! You can do it!"

When this happens, there are two trains of thought that can go through your head. One is, you can be relieved. Phew! No responsibility on you! All you got to do is get the ball safely to X, and he can make or break us. And if it doesn't go in, it's not your fault. The second is, you can be upset. Damn, so coach doesn't believe in me?? He thinks I can't make the shot?? Doesn't he trust me??

Both trains of thought are wrong. While I was playing ball in college, we had one guy on our team who basically carried us on his back with his amazing shooting ability. He had a great shot, made good decisions, and was the star of our team. To top it all off, he was my best friend. So did I get bummed when he was the go-to guy on the team? Sure. I wish I was the one making the game winning shots and being trusted with the ball when we were down, but the bottom line was that wasn't my role. We had a shooter, a good shooter, and his role was to take these kind of shots. As for being relieved at not being chosen, sure; but every now and then these plays break down, and suddenly you're the one with the ball in your hands thanks to good defence from the other team. And if that happens, pressure or no pressure, you need to be mentally ready to take that shot.


Often I've met people that have an attitude of "why him and not me??". I'm sure those of you that work will come across the over-enthusiastic co-worker that seems to get all the big incentives, big assignments, and the big accolades. The fact of the matter is that we all have our roles. In any team, be it on the court or in the office, the only thing that matters it that the team wins. If our pride and ego issues get trampled on the way, that is of lesser consequence.



In closing - check this video out. One of the greatest buzzer beaters ever!

Bye Bye Beijing

In keeping with all the Olympic hype, it seems appropriate to write an entry on this, the last day of this year's Beijing Olympics. The USA Basketball team have just redeemed themselves after years of failure at the international level (their last national success was gold in Sydney 2000), and being the hardcore basketball fan that I am, I regret not being able to watch it. Basketball; now that's what I call sport! Athleticism, speed, stamina, strength, strategy, agility and cheerleaders. You couldn't ask for more! Football may be the 'beautiful game' and the sport that is most steeped in history, but nothing beats the thrill of stepping onto the court for me.

We all have our favourite sports; either we enjoy watching it or playing it, and what better showcase than the Olympics to do either. However, I sometimes wonder if the definition for 'sport' and 'game' has been somewhat blurred over the years.

Which brings me to - "Darkside Daily's List Of The Week".

In this edition, we shall focus on Olympic events whose inclusion in the games can be described as ludicrous at best.

Drumroll please!

5. Table Tennis

I don't understand how this works. Table tennis is a sport that is restricted to China, Japan and parts of South East Asia. How does it become an Olympic sport? Take this years games for example; Bronze - China, Silver - China, Gold - China. Yes, international sport indeed. In fact, as mentioned in one of the links in my previous post, the governing body for table tennis is considering major changes in the sport to try and boost its waning popularity globally; i.e., ladies, please ditch the baggy shorts and shirts, and dial Miss Sharapova's number pronto! More nations play rugby, cricket and golf; yet to even consider making these sports an Olympic event is laughed at.

4. Softball

Like most people, I don't understand baseball. Maybe it's because I've grown up following cricket, the sport from which baseball is supposed to be derived from. But I can accept that it is at least a sport, even if it's international appeal is also in question. So why include softball as well? Softball is a watered down version of baseball, and in almost all respects is identical to baseball. It's sort of like touch football (American football without the tackling), and played only for fun or by women. For the IOC to allow both versions of the game to become Olympics events is just bizarre, and apparently even they agree; neither sport will be featured in the 2012 London Olympics. Perhaps the paralympics then...?

3. Triple Jump

I love athletics, and I think no event captures the real essence and character of the Olympic games than track & field. Here is the one platform where all competitors are equals, where an advantage with regards to facililties and training programmes does not play as big a role as other sports. Jamaica proved to the world that all the high-tech conditioning and training programmes in the world can't beat pure speed and desire. But there's one event that I just don't understand, and that is triple jump. We have long jump, we have high jump; who invented the triple jump?? It's almost as if someone was on his run up for the long jump, jumped too early, kept going, jumped too early again, kept going and finally jumped into the pit; then when faced with the puzzled onlookers, he said "Triple jump; pretty cool huh?" In long jump, the purpose is to jump the farthest distance. Fair enough. In triple jump, the purpose is to jump the farthest distance AFTER jumping twice already. As a measure of athletic ability, it is a complete disaster.

2. Equestrian

Apparently I was all wrong about the Olympics. See, I thought it was a tournament to promote international goodwill through the spirit of sportsmanship by competing in events to measure athletic prowess. Naturally I just assumed that we'd leave the animals out of this. But no, we have Olympic events to judge how high we can make horses jump, how well we can make them look while jumping, and how well they look while jumping together as a group. The Olympics is probably the only place where men who sit on horses are considered 'athletes', which I believe is just absolute cock! To prove my point, look at this years events. Several animals were found to have illegal substances in their system and were disqualified from the competition. Now, if the riders really were the so-called 'athletes', why in the God's name are they doping the horses?!

1. Synchronised Swimming

A picture speaks a thousand words. So feast your eyes on these.

I rest my case.

Bizarre Beijing Bulletin

Its not often that I stumble upon something so bizarre that I decide then and there to add it to the blog, but like my earlier post stated, these olympics have just given me more than enough material.

Click here to read a short and somewhat bizarre article which was posted on Yahoo Sports.


Oh but there's more - click here for something equally interesting.


And one more - click here for the icing on the cake!


You gotta love the Olympics!

Beijing Blues

We are bang in the middle of the month of August; and as expected, the gaze of the entire world has been on China for the Beijing Olympics. Well, not quite; our attention has been somewhat divided between the little crisis in Georgia (i.e. the war) and the fact that Madonna is now 50! But despite all this the air has been full of general camaraderie, sportsmanship, brotherly love and – smog.

Yes, smog. The IOC may consider themselves akin to the Greek gods of old, since they hold the power to designate the host country for each of the games. However, this time they must have had a bit o pot between them, because they seemingly dismissed the perpetual haze that hovers over Beijing as “smoker’s vision” and bestowed the honour of hosting the 2008 games to them. Little did they know that it wasn’t just the air that would give off a foul aroma during the games.

This edition of the summer Olympics has been full of controversy from day 1. In fact, it started well before the spectacular opening ceremony commenced, with athletes from several contingents expressing their concern about the air quality in Beijing. Using air filters and other technology, it was determined that the pollution was eleven times higher in Beijing than any other metropolitan city in the Europe or the Americas. One news reporter travelled to the Great Wall of China, some 40kms away from Beijing, and recorded the air quality there. It was found to me much better – it was only six times more polluted than London. Naturally, the Chinese authorities went into panic mode and shutdown most of the major power plants inside the city, as well as any other industrial zones. They even went so far as to limit the number of cars that could enter the city per day. Then, just to add extra oomph to their intentions, they issued a decree stating that each vehicle could only enter the city once every 48 hours.

This seemed to satisfy the IOC, who thought they could now relax. That was not to be, as bang on cue, the freedom of the press was put into question. Once again, several reporters complained of harassment by the Chinese authorities, who refused to allow them to video or interview any of the thousands of protesters that were demonstrating against the regime that was in power.

Once again, the government stepped in and allocated specific ‘protest areas’ where demonstrations could go on unheeded. However, to enter those areas one had to register themselves; mysteriously, those people would find themselves in jail the next day for jaywalking.

Oh but there’s more! The Spanish basketball team caused a stir by posing for a team photo while making what appeared to be a racial gesture. The fallout was somewhat muted, and the Spanish team didn’t seem to take it too seriously either, issuing a simple apology and not bothering to justify themselves further. And in keeping with national unity, another picture of the Spanish tennis team surfaced with them making the same gesture. Brilliant.

Could things get any worse? Definitely! A Swedish wrestler is controversially disqualified in a semi-final bout, and his opponent goes on to win the gold. He subsequently wins his bronze medal match, but throws his medal down on the podium as he receives it and walks away. Apparently, he “was aiming for the gold. Nothing else matters”. Sportsmanship at its peak. He was later stripped of his bronze medal too. A fitting punishment, considering he never took it in the first place, don’t you think?

But the crowning glory of Olympic cock-ups has to be the Chinese gymnastics team. It is a well known fact that younger girls are more supple and flexible, thus giving them an edge in gymnastic events. That’s why the IOC has set a minimum age of 16 for the games. Forcing anyone younger to compete would be deemed cruel and inhuman, as their bodies are not yet completely formed.

Enter the Chinese team, with girls that all look like they should still be playing with dolls and studying 8th grade math instead of competing for their country. Mysteriously though, they all have passports that show they are all 16 years old or older. Chinese girls obviously mature later – like around 30. (Click on the link, it makes for interesting reading)

A wise man once said that the world had gone mad. Well, actually he said it many times, and that man was me. But when the Olympics, of all things, cannot escape controversy and instead becomes a “bird’s nest” of unsportsmanlike behaviour, can you disagree with me, I mean, ‘him’?

Lets all look forward to London 2012, where Afghanistan wins gold in the shot putt by throwing a land mine 70 metres into the players tent and killing everyone. Perhaps the IOC will give him a stern warning and force him to shave his beard in apology.