Another defeat. Another week of cussing and regrets. The result of the match was decided on the last ball. The match, in my opinion, was very enjoyable. I was watching it with my friends in the TV room of my university’s boy’s hostel.
When Abdur Rehman flicked that last ball into the air, everyone cheered for joy. That’s because the camera’s field of vision did not cover the cursed fielder waiting for a catch at the boundary. The cheering died down the instant the fielder came into view. All were glaring at the TV with such ferocity, it seemed their eyes would pop out of their sockets. A friend immediately on my right looked like a kid who had just been made aware of the existence of the boogey man who steals candy from naughty children or an adult who has been told of the boogey man who steals 10% of almost everything from almost everyone regardless of how naughty or nice they’ve been (Mr. President).
Even in all the tension and subsequent disappointment, I could not help but notice the comedy of the situation, the sudden 180 degree change in each spectator’s facial expression. And in the fact that everyone suddenly seemed to have become an expert on what Abdur Rehman should have done.
Yeah. I’m sure anyone in that TV room could have done better than Abdur Rehman. That is, after they had actually made it to the cricket team, and played with an actual cricket ball and not with a cheap rip off of a Dunlop tennis ball (L**dop: Made as Taiwan).
It’s a game. There is seldom an accurate prediction or absolute strategy and always a gamble involved. Taking that single on the second-last ball was a gamble that didn’t pay off.
Even a politician with a fake BA degree can isolate the source of the problem after the damage has been done. It’s a player’s decision in the heat of the moment that counts.
“Yar agar Abdur Rehman bat ko thora sa tera kar ke leg side par 30.5 degree ke angle aur 45 degree elevation ke sath shot khelta tou chakka ho jata aur hum jeet jatay”
“Yar agar chachi ke moonchein hotein tou wo chacha hotay”
If only the past could have been altered by mourning for what could have been, Pakistan’s cricket team would never have lost a match.
When disgruntled fans like us voice their criticism of the team after every defeat, it only works to bog them down further. Who knows, maybe we are indirectly responsible for our team’s consistent losses. It is quite possible that our opinions are the cause of the cricket team’s presently shattered confidence.
Perhaps the first thing Saeed Ajmal thought after dropping the first (of three) dropped catches in the match against England was how the next day’s newspaper was going to rape his reputation. Maybe that is what he was thinking before the ball flew past his hand a second time.
“They’re gonna mutilate my ass! I can’t afford to drop another – AAH, F***!”
Funny thing is, even after all that cursing, after those proclamations of confirmed defeat for the cricket team in all challenges ahead and after all those vows to never watch a cricket match ever again, these very people sit in front of their TV sets at the beginning of yet another cricket match with a bowl of popcorn in their hands and hope in their eyes. And if the team wins, they’re all praises for them.
Then there are those that would go as far as supporting the opponent out of frustration from consistence defeats to the national side.
“Ye! Maro inhein, England! Maro salon ko! Takay ainda kabhi cricket khelnay ki jurrat na karein!”
And if by some miracle, our team recovers to win an apparently lost match, they claim to have been joking all along and that they were sure the team would eventually kick ass.
But the worst of the lot are those that do in fact stop watching cricket (or any other sport) out of fear of being disappointed, leaving it to follow football leagues, tennis or basketball while justifying their preference via the excuse that “the matches are shorter“.
Most of them go on to randomly pick one out of the top/winning sides from the lot and claim to be die-hard fans. That is probably why you only find fans of Arsenal, Chelsea, Man Utd, Lakers, Rockets, Federer and Nadal amongst your friends. No one supports poor Aisam-ul-Haq (“Oh no! He’s nothing compared to my dear Federer!”) or, say, Aston Villa or whatever (“They don’t have Drogba. Drogba is the man! Everyone else is lame! Yeah! Lame!”).
However, this is all just a hypothesis. There are obviously other factors involved. But nevertheless, our disgruntled rambling most definitely have an effect, little as it may be, on the minds of our players. So if you do want to get something through to the cricket team, make it a message to wed every Indian female star in sight.