Tendulkar's spooky bats!

Time to withdraw my hitherto-held views.

If my Google search serves me right, I remember cribbing how Tendulkar evoked only awe, not argument and was too polite to polarize.

By and large, I observed he was far from a debater's delight.

But that was clearly another era when Australia held Ashes, Phillip Hughes did not twitter and Dhoni didn't own a Hummer.

Since then, as if to atone for his lack of form, Tendulkar has come out with some jaw-droppers, eyeball-poppers and mind-bogglers that cleared the cobwebs to offer a clear vision of his fascinating persona.

I was particularly intrigued by his recent comment that his bat speaks to him.

Tendulkar understands the languages of wood, and dead one at that!

I guess the Tendulkar household at La-Mer doesn't even raise a precursory eyebrow when one of his bats walks out of the storeroom to greet a groggy Tendulkar a polite 'Good morning sir'.

Or when it reappears at the end of the day to bid him a courteous 'Good night sir'.

Move over Dr Doolittle. Dr Little Master is here!

Contemporary cricket's 7 most talked-about body parts

Doosra gets physical. Well, make it anatomical. That would not only pre-empt dirty connotations but also lend the piece a rather serious tone.

Much like Stephen Fleming talking about blockhole. Or is it Stephen Hawking talking about blackhole?

Whatever.

Gone off the rails a bit? Well, let me put the record straight.

Doosra goes anatomical. Mind you, that is what we had agreed on. And a bit metaphorical as well.

You'll agree, any blogger worth his salt, sugar and jaggery would do everything to bring Lalit Modi and John Buchanan into the picture and hence the detour.

So here goes the list of contemporary cricket's 7 most talked-about body parts, both figurally and figuratively.

1. Spine: The vertebral column that Virender Sehwag, fed up of the invertebrates, insists on in every Delhi selector.

2. Nose: The Olfactory System belonging to John Buchanan, cricket's own Pinocchio, which has a mind of its own and a tendency to poke itself at the slightest opportunity.

3. Forefinger: The erratic appendix in Rudy Koertzen’s body. Some batsmen are ready to bear the expenses if Rudy agrees to get it surgically removed.

4. Toe: An average cricket administrator's most endangered part when Lalit Modi is around.

5. Ear: The portion of Sachin Tendulkar that the latent Mike Tyson in Phillip Hughes wants to 'chew off'.

6. Heel: The posterior end of the foot that actually belongs to Kevin Pietersen but medics insist on calling Achilles'.

7. Knee: The joint of Andrew Flintoff's right leg, a definitive testimonial of how dud NASA is.

A whiff of IPL in F1

The resemblance is so uncanny and I'm not alluding to the picture above but trying to make a point.

A crap outfit owned by a fat, flamboyant tycoon fond of booze, babe and bling.

So profound is self-doubt that they can't win even when served on a platter. Butt of all dirty jokes around.

The only gain from Season One is the backmarker's tag that hangs like albatross.

Season Two and the innocuous-looking David pulls off shock of the season and slays unsuspecting Goliaths to finish second best!

And the guy who led the turnaround is on the wrong side of 30s.

Is it IPL 2 or Formula 1?

Is it Force India or Royal Challengers Bangalore?

And does Anil Kumble know Giancarlo Fisichella?

In these turbulent times, lay-off maybe of the essence. But Mr Mallya, retain the guy whoever is writing your script.

P.S. What a relief, I don't have to credit the picture! On your right, Force India driver Fisichella. On your left, the driving force behind Doosra. Their paths crossed in 2007 Australian GP.

P.P.S. After the Belgian GP, both Mallya and Fisichella talked to a few of us from Spa-Francorchamps through teleconference. After Fisichella had won the pole position on Saturday, Mallya described it the most memorable day of his F1 career. I inquired if he would issue a correction now.

"Can't really swap it, you know. Pole position was an achievement in itself and would go down in history. Similarly today's podium finish would also go down in history," boomed the husky voice. So eat your heart out because your history book just got fatter.

Kebabs, Ashes and KP

And you thought Alastair is the only Cook in English ranks!

Move over Colonel's Kebabz. Here comes KP kebabs!

As an afterthought, I never suspected Dilip Vengsarkar of actually running kebab joints since I was rather under the impression that 'Colonel' had other fishes to fry at Mumbai Cricket Association.

Anyway, ignore the allusion and return to the protagonist of the piece.

You are the alpha bat but rendered hors de combat.

Your teammates do the unthinkable without you. They shot a poisoned arrow into Ricky Ponting's Achilles heel while you are left to nurse your own.

So what do you do? You swap the bat for skewer and make kebabs for Indian fans in a London club!

With no Onions, of the Graham variety, in the vicinity, the salad was bound to be as much a let-down as a Ravi Bopara or a Monty Panesar.

And it's not known either if they served T20 – as dessert is called in Tendulkar parlance -- in dinner.

What is known, to Doosra that is, is finally when the party had dispersed, KP removed the grill, collected the Ashes, filled the urn he had bought and pocketed the stuff with characteristic cockiness.

So now you know who has more Ashes under the belt, both figuratively and factually, among the Three Lions.

For the Strauss & Co and their vainglory, replace the Don Pedros, Benedicks and Claudios with Cook, Bell, Trott and similar monosyllables and you have, by and large, Much Ado About Nothing II.

Pix: Daily Mail

Cricket loses masculinity!

Somewhere something extraordinary has happened.

And it's graver than allowing George W Bush to formulate English grammar or asking Paris Hilton to head the next NASA project.

Cricket has just become less masculine!

Of course you had the omens in Alastair Cook's mascara, RP Singh's eyeliner and Nathan Bracken's hairband but here comes the definitive confirmation.

A bunch of eunuchs has beaten their male counterparts. And lest there is any confusion, let me make it clear that I'm not talking about Ashes.

After third man and third umpire, the third sex made its debut in cricket somewhere in Sindh, Pakistan.

A BBC report claims the eunuchs chased down a 66-run target from eight overs with such aplomb that some of the ICC Full Members are lucky that they were not there.

Chasing down those cars on the traffic signal was finally of some use, the winning captain later revealed.

Teams that tend to choke in their chase can give it a try, he...err...she...or... whatever said.

While most coaches dismissed it as a madcap idea, John Buchanan is rumoured to have found some logic in it and is looking for a team where he can put it in practice.

Pix: BBC News

7 reasons why it’s not easy being an Indian cricketer

Virender Sehwag has not had a bumper crop on his barren scalp.

Harbhajan Singh's Hummer has not claimed its first casualty yet.

And Irfan Pathan still bowls at a speed which allows him the luxury of fetching the ball midway and do a re-take if he doesn't like the original.

But enough strange things have happened of late to convince me that it's not easy being an Indian cricket these days and here is why:

1. Film directors dismiss you as pestering wannabe actor;

2. Female fans mistake you for a lip gloss;

3. You never know when you find yourself at the wrong end of Vinod Kambli's name-dropping spree in one of the reality shows;

4. Selectors first shove you into a garb and then dump you for posturing in borrowed plumes;

5. Your cousin, especially from hockey, casts an evil eye on your Hummer;

6. Your own state association calls you nepotic; and

7. WADA guys chase you even in your nightmare with a bottle and an injection in their hand, seeking blood and what not.

Shame on you Coventry!

They treat you like leper. They want you to grow, live and die in your ghetto.

They appoint thugs to run the ghetto and feed them booze, money and women.

They declare you outlaw and meet occasionally in swanky hotels to renew the decree.

They are ashamed of you. They want to hush you up as if you are a scam.

You fool take your guard and watch around. Four hoodlums, three sots, two beggars and a pariah dog assemble to watch you.

What you do?

You remain unbeaten on 194 off 156 balls and walk home with a slice of history!

Charles Coventry, we are ashamed of you.