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The Spare (C)rib/Abhilasha Khaitan

Move over, Horatius

A wise old man once said, "While there is life, there is hope". I think that was grandfather. Sigh! Had he been around, he might have said the same thing, but a mite differently.

"While there is Sachin, there is hope". Sure, granddad.

We think so too. In fact, that's our problem. And Sachin's. I often wonder, how Sachin feels, standing at the non-striker's end, watching each one of his esteemed, and not so esteemed teammates, let him down, time and again. As captain, and as batsman.

I also wonder how he feels when he sees the Aussies rejoicing as each wicket falls. The complacence and belief writ on their faces gets my goat, it does! They know it, damn it. All the way. They believed that they were going to win. We were written off, even before we began. Do I blame them? Can I begrudge them this complacence?

We wonder why the media is cruel. Why we're not given a chance? Why we're called a one-man army? I don't. And neither do most of you. We are, and this man, can only fight so far. Much as he'd like to go on, even he needs to refuel. And his standbyes are never ever good enough, especially on foreign, unknown and dangerous terrain.

Enough. I refuse to indulge in this soul-searching exercise anymore. How is it going to help anybody? Including me. I'm just the 18th member. Like I said, I do have a voice, but who's to hear it? Good enough to carry somebody's kit, but not good enough to wear it. Between you and me, the way things are going, a lot of us guys, waiting in the wings are going to get our chance under the sun, or in the rains as the case maybe, soon. Very soon. Bench strength, they'll call it. I'll call it desperate measures, in a very desperate situation.

Thanks for listening. This has been getting to me, as you may have noticed. But in my ire over mine own team, let me not forget to put you in the know about some other things, which happened in the match. All right, so I want to crib a bit!

Srinath is a really nice guy. A guy waves his bat at him, spews some steam and unmentionables, Srinath smiles and the guy's sitting pretty. But, another man, just expresses some joy over the little available to him to be joyful about, and guess what? He's in the dog's house. Venky's too much of a gentleman to protest. Referees are neutral, but neutering situations on a whim and a fancy is just not cricket.

Neither is what we've been playing, but at least we mess up only on the field.

So, it's been a nice day at the MCG. The sun is shining, and the only clouds I can see are hovering very dangerously over us. Either we learn how to sing in the rain, or run home for cover.

The Spare Crib/Abhilasha Khaitan