Did you? I mean, who didn’t. There were some sane souls left on this planet, or at least in this country who didn’t park their substantial and unsubstantial behinds in a single spot for the majority of the eight odd hours that it took for India to drub the Sri Lankans, and I kowtow to them and their sanity. After all it is only a game. Did it merit that we shut down our lives and sacrifice an entire day to watch it?
Of course. It was the World Cup final, and if you weren’t watching it, you missed history in the making. Yup and that includes the hazaar misfields from the Sri Lankan team I totally take full credit for, because I had an inside line to the God of Misfields, to whom I broke a coconut (metaphorically speaking and it was a good thing the spouse and the child were nowhere in the immediate vicinity at this point) after every misfield, with the consequence that I was buried under a pile of metaphorical broken coconuts and had they been real, I could have started a mithai shop selling only narial barfi. Yup. Sri Lankan fielded so atrociously. Not that I am complaining.
How did I watch the match, you ask? Eyeballs polished, snacks at immediate grabbing distance, television at full volume and all alone. The spouse had scampered off to watch the match with his gang of friends, and the spawn of the womb was keener on playing with his accursed Beyblade than getting an education as to how world class cricket is played. (Psst, is there any future scope for champion Beybladers to earn a living?)
Thankfully, given that every home in the three 20 storey towers we live in had the volume turned up to full, it seemed like one was sitting in the stadium with the cheers resounding deafeningly, and my vuvuzela (a fake, bought during the FIFA and used extensively here) being put to good use everytime a Sri Lankan wicket was taken or an Indian batsman tucked a ball away neatly to the boundary. It was fun. It was heartstoppingly , nail bitingly stressfull, unfortunately not fatmeltingly, much to my disgust. Stress should directly impact the fat deposits na? Zap them like laser beams into collectable puddles which could be employed then to be used as autologous collagen fillers or such like.
We collectively hurled epithets at the Sreesanth who I hope the team has seen the last off, and applauded Zaheer Khan and Yuvraj Singh and yes, Mahela Jayawardena for fabulous playing, and I tweeted eruditely, showing off my knowlege of the game by commenting on Malinga’s highlights and Sidhu’s turban.
Now that the cup is won and the ICC done with, there’s a sort of aching emptiness within me, which has nothing to do with not having eaten a thing for the past couple of hours. I’m googling the IPL schedule now. Can’t wait for May 28th. What? Give a girl something to look forward too. It isn’t often that she allows herself straight eight hours in front of the television. That too with unlimited things to chomp on.