Saturday, June 17, 2006

FIFA! That Sounds Like VIVA!

The wave of FIFA engulfs every human soul- from Andaman to Iceland, the coloured, the “otherwise”, the black haired, the pepper haired and the salt haired. Sport is the culmination of the human spirit- where issues like caste, region , religion, which otherwise matter in this silly world we live in, are dumped into oblivion, in style. The time really does not matter. Matches are watched with the same wide eyed eagerness and “geist” at Ungodly hours as the other usual “sane” times. When it comes to sport, all barriers are broken. The Fever definitely seems to have the bigger ball (the world) in rapt attention, driving everyone to a new level of frenzy. And the extent of the enthu-flurry is certainly possible only due to the otherworldly magic of FIFA. More than 3.2 million tickets, a few hundred millions glued to the Blessed Boxes, and did I forget to mention the prize money (!), the figures are lavish and seemingly larger than life, but true. And the brands and the official sponsors have a rollicking time too. With all the newbie advertisements “goaling” towards striking synchronism between the product and soccer (However unconnected they would be), Soccer is the buzzword, everywhere, all the time. “A Time To make Friends”, being one of the mottos and “This” could not have come at a more apposite time, with the World, otherwise boiling in a cauldron of needless tensions, tantalizingly lethal enough.
Even I seem to be smitten by the FIFA bug. Am still like this duckling trying to grasp the first lessons of wading across the pond. The Rooney Slicks, the trademark Beckam “Free kicks”, the mercurial reflexes and the intelligent grafting,the fickle “Elasticos”,and yes, the penalty cards tempering the game.The concept of “Offside” seems to be an enigma in soccer though. And am on a name learning spree too. Most of the names seem like huge unconquerable tongue twisters! I get Peter Crouch easy, Ronaldo, ‘Inho still easier. But Zlatan Whatever(!) and a whole gamut of other names with an evident paucity of vowels, stringed by a sequence of consonants seem to be quite a challenge! But yes, It’s FIFA all the way!
JOGA BONITO:) !

Thursday, June 15, 2006

A Tribute to Lance...

"I want to die at a hundred years old with an American flag on my back and the star of Texas on my helmet, after screaming down an Alpine descent on a bicycle at seventy-five miles per hour. I want to cross one last finish line as my stud wife and ten children applaud, and then I want to lie down in a field of those famous French sunflowers and gracefully expire: the perfect contradiction to my once anticipated poignant early demise."

The Lance Armstrong Autobiography is NOT about the bike, as he so rightly puts it.

A less privileged childhood
The glimmer being his Mom,
A wholesome manifestation
Of grit and dauntless spirit.
A broken, depressing home,
Wherever,whenever he turned
He met crystal clear obscurity
Yet,He stayed, withstood, Won.
When life hinted a rosy tint
But- “Rose” became “Sore”
The knee buckling head ache
Cancer.Testicular Cancer.
The fatal pronouncement
Debilitated the physique
Incapacitated the soul.
He was ruptured-
Ah..the throes of despair.
But He wanted to fight it.
It sure takes more than something
To survive the vicissitudes-
Physical,moral and psychological.
The true ones held close and tight
The rest abandoned, shamelessly.
He was unflinching, almost buoyant-
Those stray moments of depression
And the odd occasion when agony hovered,
He had a near perfect bunch of folks
To lift him, to talk to him;
To rejuvenate the sagging morale.
And thus the travails were braved
The Enemy was finally in shambles!
The Cancer was an experience,
It enhanced a transformation.
The once brash..the once volatile
And perennially temperamental
With the proverbial gush and rush-
Had slowed down and rightly seasoned,
And positively mellowed down.
It was an education of its own.
A test of the strength of spirit.
And then there was this ephemeral phase,
Of wilderness and madness;
When all seemed hazy and aimless-
The strain of chemotherapy “strain”
Sapping the once dogged fortitude.
But there are true angels in this place,
To shore up when most crucial.
And then there was The Tour-
Any Cyclist’s “Dream” dream;
Mate, It’s known as Life’s metaphor-
The Tour de France, an ultimate test.
He who had a troubled childhood,
He who had a not-so-blissful youth,
He who bonded with The Fatal cancer,
He who had a paltry chance of survival,
WON THE TOUR DE FRANCE !
And six times at that.
If This is not inspiring, What is?

Lance Armstrong’s autobiography is one book which will leave a HUGE, indelible mark in the minds and the hearts of the readers. There’s nothing in this wide universe to beat the resilience of the mind and Lance’s life is ample testimony to this well known but sadly not as well realized fact of life. And yes, the story of kissing the pinnacle of glory is never a fairy tale!