Fine legs and silly points

Nobody, mind you, is arguing the purist8217;s case. Nobody objected to BBC8217;s Christopher Martin-Jenkins and his inspired observation: 8220;The bowler8217;s Holding, the batsman8217;s Willey.8221; We loved vintage Richie Benaud 8212; 8220;there was a slight interruption there for athletics8221; 8212; when he reflected on a female streaker running across the Lord8217;s pitch. We appreciated Henry Blofield8217;s gift of spotting earrings. Why, even Harsha 8216;genteel8217; Bhogle knocked out ABC8217;s Kerry 8216;chatterbox8217; O8217;Keefe, during the famous Boxing Day match, when the latter doubted Gillespie8217;s fitness 8212; 8220;as stiff as three whiskies8221; 8212; and Harsha asked just how many stiffs his opposite enjoyed each night.

Cricket is a way of life and such splashes happily find their context in its grand canvas. Like Sydney seagulls, Kotla dogs or Sharjah starlets. Even Gautam Bhimani, so long as he limits himself to sponsored antics and has stunning land/seascapes for background. But not the 8216;Shaz and Waz8217; show. As Shastri the commentator, Ravi is measured gin and tonic 8212; equally in command reading Ganguly8217;s racing mind or static feet and complimenting the cameraman, as the lens zooms on a group of bubbly, young girls at Premadasa, for his ability to 8220;spot talents8221;. But as Shastri the Shaz, Ravi is a hopeless punch 8212; suddenly too distracted for cricketing analysis and too ripe for natural street-smartness. But maybe it8217;s not entirely his fault.

The very idea of importing femininity to cricket through Jills-in-the-box is as absurd as hiring toothpaste models to popularise Monalisa prints. For a game played among 22 men, cricket is as much feminine as it is masculine. Some of our poster boys and macho cricketers-turned-commentators may take offence. But they will unwittingly concede that, in their fetish for pursuing impressive statistics vital stats, in case of Shaz and Waz, they have stripped the game of much of its beauty.

Close your eyes, and for every stream of shaggy, raw passion of a Thomo or a Shoaib, you have the alluring mystery of a Bishen or a Murali. For every Richards short arm pull from outside the off stump, no less rugged and nonchalant than a weather-unbeaten Clint Eastwood shooting from the hip, there is a Vishwanath late cut, so late and languid, almost an afterthought, an aside as elegantly subtle as Susan Sarandon wiping cigarette smoke in the air before suddenly looking up with that twinkle between her lashes.

Consider the stumpers. For all their flamboyance and acrobatics, the best keepers are matched in virtues of involvement and patience only by the best homemakers. The ones who are always there to weather it all and around whom great spells or families flourish.

Take speed 8212; from Formula One to boom-boom Becker, a male prerogative. But in the hand of Kapil or Hadlee, an outswinger, bowled at a lively pace, teases the batsman like a seductress endowed with a kiss of death. Without inhibition, she approaches you straight. As the proximity gets alarming and you are about to offer your straightest face forward, she sways away with a get-me-if-you-can tilt.

Take an over. The bowler sends six propositions to you. Each comes with a promise of reward. You can8217;t keep dating without risking ever falling in love. As in life, you gain some to lose some. But if you decide that discretion is indeed the better part of amour, and stay unresponsive to all her six advances, she goes out of your life a maiden. Between you two, it8217;s over.

The butchery of swordsmanship has drastically reduced the frequency of maiden overs in one-day cricket. But that is hardly any excuse for the channelwalahs to compensate by picking up maidens 8212; even starlets 8212; from the stand. If they are feeling insecure about the cricketing overdose, they can always let the ICC go easy on the calendar. Otherwise, they must either correct the gender bias or, better still, junk the show altogether. Most viewers don8217;t miss those vanishing maiden overs. Trust me, they won8217;t miss those unsuspecting PYTs whose prime contribution to the break-time farce is to make their two awkward hosts make their silly points.