Column

Tales From The Locker Room

“Who is this monster?” that’s what my son Mikhaail asked when he met the greatest fast bowler in the world. For his part, Glenn McGrath, known for his ability with ball and tongue, did not offer to return the serve.

We are in Dubai, where I’ve just completed an interview with the recently retired bowling champion. Whilst my assignment is Glenn McGrath, my son’s assignment is well… me.

My son, under intense pressure to meet unreasonable deadlines, has to deliver a project titled ‘What my father does’. Initially he tried to get away with a three-line thesis—he sleeps, he scratches, he complains, he scratches and then he sleeps again. Although this edition wasn’t far away from the truth, better sense prevailed when he got wind of the projects of other children. Most had crossed 27 pages! So my son threw away his first draft, and like Charles Dickens, Moliere and Geoffrey Chaucer before him, decided that he’d go with draft number two.

As the two champions met, all of us could feel the electricity in the room. However, it must be added that in Dubai, electricity is a must and without it you’d soon be dead in a place where 45 degrees is considered a windy day.

My son had never seen a six foot six inches man before, and a Caucasian one at that. So truth be told that his ‘monster’ comment must go down as borderline racism. At an awkward moment like this I couldn’t help thinking that his grandparents would have been so proud.

Glenn McGrath, in the mean time reached out like a Cyclops, picked up my little bundle of television-fashioned prejudice and placed him on a table like a piece of cutlery. Just, when I was totally convinced he was going to eat my son up, Glenn smiled his winsome smile and settled for a picture. As we left the auditorium having brushed shoulders with true cricketing greatness, my son said to me, “He’s a nice monster.”