Find new love, our beloved game is dead

Life begins at forty, they say. Mahatma Gandhi bloomed after the forties. Boman Irani was discovered by Bollywood in his forties. George Foreman got a second innings after forty. Several artists make their name after turning 40.

What’s the connection? How are they all connected with this gibberish except that I am also forty plus?

Life so far has been too long a trauma. There have been a few joys in between — 1983, 1987 and a laboured 2011 that saw both highs and lows. There have been some moments of joy — flitting as they were in 1998, 2001. And one unforgettable moment in 1999.

Otherwise it has been always pain. Remaining wide awake only to see world mocking. Even the weaklings have exploited.

Yes. I am talking about our cricket team. They told us it’s not India that they represent, it’s the best 11 of all the clubs playing cricket in India. BCCI said that in court, ok? I also know the famous George Bernard Shaw’s oft-repeated quote — it’s a game played by 22 fools and watched by many. It has been thrown at me by my soccer fan friends.

It’s not that I didn’t try. I tried. I cultivated interest in tennis. I watched the legendary McEnroe-Borg Wimbeldon final standing outside the compound of a house that was three km away from mine. I loved Andre Agassi and his love interest Steffi Graf. I abhorred Monica Seles who I thought was playing unfair by unleashing that grunt, unsettling her opponents. And then I made the cardinal mistake. I fell in love with players and not the sport. I started following Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupati who created magic in doubles. Their chest-thumping antics after reversing several Davis Cup matches were thrilling and pleased the jingoistic streak in me. And then they separated. No sire, Sania Mirza didn’t thrill me. One always knew she couldn’t match any of the masculine women players on international circuits.

Hockey was simple. There was only Dhanraj Pillay. After his spat with the authorities and with players as well, it was over even before the love affair began.

So it’s time to start a new life. Football seems the only option left. We are placed way low. The way we have allowed cricket to kill everything on field, it will be long before we can be of any threat in the international arena. Our only celebrity that could play for few minutes in internationals was Baichung Bhutia and he retired earlier this month.

So there it is. Nothing to lose. Nothing to expect. So no heartburns watching our legends fall to innocuous bowlers. No acidity pangs watching our bowlers bowl their hearts out to ensure out of form players are back with big centuries.

I have found the new love. Football it will be. Time you found yours. Or wait till the fourth Test match between India-Australia.

PS: For the years mentioned: We won World Cups in 1983 and 2011, Champions’ Trophy in 1985, Australasia Cup in 1998 and VVS magic was in 2001. Kumble’s 10-wicket haul came in 1999. Utter humiliation was when we were knocked out by Bangladesh in 2007 World Cup. It took real long to heal the last-ball six injury inflicted by Javed Miandad against Pakistan.