Just when it seemed that soccer had become dull and dour, subsumed by commerce, endorsements and politics (and you thought only Indian cricket suffered from this evil), there appeared from nowhere a thing of sublime beauty that left everyone spellbound.
Lionel Messi, the precocious 19 year old Argentine, took 13 touches in, would you believe it, 13 seconds to baffle the entire (well almost) Getafe team and score a goal that would put all soccer cynics to rest. As he waltzed through the opponent defense, the ball dancing to his tune, his black mane flowing like a wild horse and opponents falling around him like nine pins, he bore uncanny resemblance to another of his ilk (in more ways than one), his countryman, the legendary Diego Armando, who scored what is supposed by many as the greatest goal that ever was. Maradona’s goal against the Englishmen was possibly on a higher altitude because of the stakes attached - the stage was the Copa Mundial 1986 and the backdrop of the Falkland Wars left any Argentina-England duel in those times akin to real war. His work of art, 2 decades back, happened before Leo was born but the difference if any stops there. Both are Argentine, both from humble backgrounds, both plied their trade in Barcelona as some point in time in their careers, both primarily left footed, both dwarfs in size but giants in footballing terms, both as far as intuition and soccer ability goes.
Each man received the ball in his own half, close to the right touchline. Each wove his way around some 200 feet (WOW!!!!!) at breathtaking speed, false footing five-six opponents, besides the goalkeeper. Each controlled and moved the ball with his left foot, swerving and producing subtle body feints, but coming from the right side of the park. However, Diego’s final touch to the English goal was left footed while Messi used his right, so acute he had gone while dodging the rival goalkeeper. But all in all, the path traversed, the feints and pauses, the speed, the final culmination, all made the goal a replica in many ways of the original master’s.
While purists will say that young Leo has a lot to do before he scales the dizzy heights of his predecessor, I have a gut feel that he will go a long way. Coming in today’s professional era, having seen loads of talented youngsters go wayward due to erratic lifestyles would be an abject lesson for the injury prone teen to know how and where to tread. Even the great Diego paved his own downfall triggered by drugs and alcohol and has been hospitalized quite often in recent times. Messi’s control on his superb run might have been a shade below Maradona’s but we hope that he will be in greater control on his personal and professional life to be placed in untouchable heights when he has long left the game.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6_mAzYU69U
It has been almost 5 years since that momentous day in Bangalore and it still sends shivers down my spine reminiscing that magic Saturday, right from meeting Roger Waters "In the Flesh" (pun intended) to finally being in the Waters concert that evening.
It all started off casually that afternoon while strolling on MG Road with some friends, when I suddenly countenanced a very familiar face ensconced between 3 burly bodyguards and traveling with an entourage that was very “phoren”.....it took less than 5 seconds to realize that it was the same face I had come down all the way from Delhi to see. What was surprising, though, was the fact that he was strolling so casually on “happening” MG Road with no one actually recognizing him. It was good that no one discerned him for it helped me coolly walk up to him and meet him one on one, take his autograph and strike up a small conversation as well. In between, however, a group of people had gathered and we all had to be shooed away from there but not before I had already taken his autograph on the quickest piece of paper I could lay my hands on - my company’s business card :)
By that time, I was almost walking in a dream - having met, autographed and spoken to one my rock legends. In keeping with the mood, we hit one of our favorite pubs, Pecos and guzzled beer till we ventured out for the venue, the Palace Grounds in a state of “happiness” where the only color of grass was brown.
And then the show started.......aptly the opening track was “In the Flesh" (incidentally the name of the tour) which drove the 30,000+ crowd to frenzy. The crowd, mostly Floyd freaks, soaked in the occasion. The opening number led to Pigs on the Wings, Another Brick in the Wall, Parts 1-3, Mother, Dogs, Welcome to the Machine, Wish You Were Here, Shine on You Crazy Diamond (all parts), Time, Money, Brain Damage, Breathe, Eclipse, Comfortably Numb and then tracks from his solo albums Pros and Cons & Amused to Death viz. Pros and Cons of Hitch Hiking, Perfect Sense (Parts I and II), Amused To Death and many more which left the crowd screaming for more. The show ended up with a solo number from his forthcoming album Flickering Flame.
The ambience was electric what with the unmistakable smell of pot filling the air and people swaying to the psychedelic music. Waters was phenomenal as was his regular backup "Bleeding Hearts Band". In fact his son, Harry Waters, was on the keyboards during the concert and did a more than commendable job. I thought Roger missed a few good numbers from his magnum opus Radio K.A.O.S. which I position as one of his creative best.
The setting was amazing with innovative graphic video projections like the Prism, Machines and fantastic acoustic effects with sounds Floyd fans are so familiar with viz. the helicopter, psychedelic laughter, the barking dogs, sirens, the ticking of a thousand clocks, clanging of slot machines, wailing children, the heartbeat etc. The 30,000+ crowd were left “comfortably numb” as they sang along, word for word, note for note, every number thrown at them for a period of three hours. Overall a great concert and one that will always remain very close to my heart. Post Roger Waters, “the lunatic in my head” would no longer scream, “there’s someone in my head but it’s not me”. For time and everything else had stood still, that eventful evening when I attained my rock nirvana.
For the “true” cricket loving Indian fan, the “Garden of Eden” and the “Oval Park of the Queen” ARE 2 happy hunting grounds and hugely historical ones at that. ARE??? Nay, I should change it to HAD BEEN. After the ignominious defeat to the hand of tigers of Bangladesh and the subsequent ouster from cricket’s mega event, the Queen’s Park Oval, Port of Spain, Trinidad would always be remembered as the venue where “Cricket India” hit its proverbial nadir.
And the plot was not supposed to peter out this way. Let’s take a sneak peek at history. India’s first success against an almighty Caribbean team led by the legendary Sir Garfield Sobers happened way back in 1971 at this particular venue. The decisive win there gave India her first Test series triumph against the West Indies.
For the uninitiated, India has won just four test matches on West Indies soil and all of them, save one, has come at Queen's Park Oval. After the historic 1971 win, there have been wins in April 1976, when she chased down 406 in the last innings - the second highest successful fourth innings chase in test cricket ever and finally the one in April 2002.
The QPO was the venue where the greatest Indian batsman of all time IMHO, the little master Sunil Manohar Gavaskar, made an electric debut scoring 132 of his 10,122 Test match runs in two match winning knocks. SMG has also scored most runs by an Indian in one Test Match 344 (124 & 220) again at the same venue. Most interestingly, he teamed up with brother-in-law Vishwanath, each scoring dazzling centuries, in the historic chase down of the final innings 406 in 1976 again at PoS, the first time the cricketing Everest of the “4th inning 400” was reached. Therefore, the fall from grace from such dizzy heights, will always look gargantuan especially, when India were being touted, albeit meretriciously, as possible world cup champions. A sizable presence of PIO (people of Indian origin) living in Trinidad & Tobago has always ensured good support for India’s cricketers, who have also found the pitches at this venue thankfully responding to spin bowling. Add to that people who flew in to the Windies from every conceivable part of the world to cheer for the Men in Blue. With all the tradition, support, pitch quality, a supposed “world beating” batting line up and “world class” coaching and support staff, it was but a huge shock (Indian cricket no longer gives surprises) that the bridesmaid of the last edition could not even graduate to the next round of the “2007 Copa Mundial”. Whether, they can rise from these ashes like the proverbial phoenix, is what a secular country of billion and more, which so theatrically calls cricket its only religion will expectantly wait and watch. Till then let us all look back and ponder at the catastrophe that befell Indian cricket at what has turned out be Indian cricket’s PORT OF PAIN.
Wanderlust being a trait that comes naturally to me, it was with total delight last December, that I greeted yet another business trip, this time to freezing Norway. I had heard so much of Scandinavia, and though I had been to Sweden once before, albeit fleetingly, this was going to be the first time I would be staying in Nordic land for a while. The enthusiasm was not at all spiked by the fact that it would be the coldest place on earth that I would have ever ventured out from the sultry shores of India by a distance. It was thus with trepidation that I started my mental preparations having learnt that temperatures shot as low as -40C. The itinerary would be choc-a-bloc though with the luxury of 1 weekend it might have made for some wonderful roaming around Oslo, where I would be based out of.
The KLM connector brought me to Oslo from Amsterdam a couple of hours post schedule on a Wednesday afternoon and by the time I “duty-freed” some Spanish van rouge and reached Radisson, it was already late afternoon, but in the month of December, 4 pm was pitch dark. I had been to Europe many times before, but the nip in the air and the darkness at that hour, had a strange feel to it. By the time, I was well entrenched in my hotel room on the 18th floor after dinner, I was ready to snooze into dreamland and so I did with minimum fuss.
I woke up afresh the next day and for once thought that it was midnight again, only to realize that “Uncle Sun” was in hibernation and like an early sunset, it was to be a very late sunrise as well. So, by the time I had a sumptuous breakfast littered with all sorts of possible catches from the North Sea, the smoked salmon, the cod fillet, the mussels, the trout and caviar, I was alive and kicking. Coming from a part of the world where fish is considered “vegetarian”, I sumptuously gorged on all the sea fish on offer. The next few days went off at work before I could bat an eyelid and before I knew it, the weekend was in. The old age “work hard, play harder” was now going to be implemented in full swing. To my delight, my Norwegian co-worker Jon, volunteered to spare some of his precious time to show me around.
Jon’s exuberance and willingness was summed up by the fact that the warmest winter in some 60 years made the temperature only around -5C, a veritable heaven for the locals, who dread much chiller winters. We planned to drive up the hill to a wonderful place called Holmenkollen, a hilly area in the outskirts of Oslo which boasts of the Holmenkollen ski jump, world's second oldest ski jump competition that still exists. The area has been a ski recreation area since the late 19th century, with its famous, eponymous, ski jump arena hosting competitions since 1892. The jump also played host to the 1952 Winter Olympics, in Oslo. The area is located within the Oslo borough of Vestre Aker, and borders Marka, the large woodlands located within the Oslo city borders. At the base of the Holmenkollen Ski Jump is a lake which is open for swimming. In September the lake is emptied in preparation for skiing season. If ever there was sporting paradise on the face of mother earth, THIS was it. I was left visualizing the ski jumps and the giant slaloms and actually viewing some of the legends airborne on the large screen plasmas inside the stadium gallery and the museum, presumably the world’s oldest ski museum. From the legendary Norwegian, Paul Braaten, the earliest 2 time winner through to Tommy Ingebrigtsen, again of Norway, holder of the current jump record of 136 meters achieved on January 25, 2006, the museum had it all. The icing on the cake was a breathtaking view of Oslo from atop the ski jump which was veritable magic.
The next destination was the Viking Ship Museum, which is part of the University Museum of Cultural Heritage, and home to great Viking-ship discoveries from Gokstad, Oseberg and Tune as well as other finds from Viking tombs around the Oslo Fjord. The world's two best-preserved wooden Viking ships built in the 9th century also find their place. The architectural splendor is complete with small boats, sledges, carts with exceptional ornamentation and even implements, tools, harness, textiles and household utensils. Made you wonder whether it was only pilferage that the Vikings should have been associated with, for they also strangely seemed a mature enough society to have forged their own civilization.
After finishing a belated lunch, the Norwegian Maritime Museum was where we headed next. It is beautifully located on the waterfront at Bygdøynes and has fascinating environmental exhibitions about fishing, ship building, shipping, marine archeology and impressive collections of boat models and marine paintings. The arctic vessel `Gjøa´ finds place in older boat exhibitions in the harbour. An exciting new video presents `Maritime Norway´, showing a unique and fascinating panoramic view of Norway’s maritime history, the Norwegian coast with its traditions and heritage.
We had had a hectic day and assimilating the beauty of Norway and its culture could only be complete with a sumptuous dinner downed with some good wine. I was very sure that I would try some exotic traditional Norwegian cuisine and my host suggested that I try Pinnekjøtt, salted dried lamb ribs steamed over a rack of juniper or birch twigs, and served with potato, mashed swede (rutabaga). To conclude the meal riskrem, a thick rice pudding topped with a berry sauce, is served. Traditionally, beer and akevitt are served with pinnekjøtt, but it has become increasingly popular to drink red wine instead, but only cause wine is becoming more popular in general. In keeping with the modern times, we ordered some Spanish Merlot to wash the lamb. Pure epicurean delight was what it wasJ. I still feel the taste in my buds even after a quarter. Heavenly, simply heavenly.
We drove back in Jon’s swanky BMW sports model and I pretty much crash-landed soon after in my hotel room. It was a hectic day but worth every single moment of it. Unfortunately, the remaining time flew away faster than one could say hello and try as I might, I could not muster additional time to explore Oslo more enough. In spite of my ardor to visit the Henie-Onstad Art Centre at Høvikodden, a museum dedicated and founded by one of my all time sporting legends, the mesmerizing Norwegian figure skater of the 30s and later day Hollywood actress, Sonja Henie, it was something that will have to wait for another day and another trip to a land which I did not know much about but fell quite in love with. Finally, the other noteworthy fact was that I had the opportunity to treat myself to some arresting reindeer steak which otherwise I could never imagine I might devour.
Procrastination, in my eyes, is the worst of the seven sins, a close parallel to “sloth” from the original line up, if you will. And such laziness has delayed what can be termed as an obvious inevitable, joining a blog site and penning down endless words of creativity (or lack thereof).
And so friends, Indians and global citizens, finally I have also joined the bandwagon too :)No specific raison d'être, just trying to clear some mental cobwebs and sharpen that long lost art that I once practiced well enough - read writing. Will surely pen down some my self-confessed passions viz. sports, classic rock and world cinema. Will also pen down some of my travel that I am lucky enough to do across the globe but not much of travails lest I start being a bore. I shall also share some of the videos and pictures that I treasure as a part of these globe-trotting sprees, some interesting, some funny, some trite, but ALL that I cherish deep down in my heart.
So without further ado, let us kick-start the show. Anyone reading my blog-space and curious to quiz me on anything is more than welcome to shoot a mail across and I would be happy to answer back.
Happy Reading
Surrealistic Cornucopia
