It is with great eagerness I am leaving for England on June 3 to cover my first World Cup. I have been on cricket tours before -- longer as well as important ones. But this trip is certainly different in magnitude and importance from the previous ones.
People who have already covered a World Cup told me that the thrill of covering a World Cup can hardly be matched by anything else in my chosen field.
In any sport, World Cup is the ultimate arena to showcase your skill, and the experience of covering matches for the last few years, I hope, will come handy for me. By no means, I am viewing this as a 'make or break' situation, but as any other reporter I want to do well in the finest stage -- something I will certainly cherish when I bid adieu to journalism.
This World Cup is also very special because India will be entering the tournament as defending champions something they have not done since 1987. Hopefully, our guys will make the country proud.
So, it is time to pack my bags and do my last round preparations. I will see you all from Old Blighty, hopefully with some interesting stuff. Keep an eye!!!!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
SELF DISCOVERY
The clock had ticked past eight when I stepped into the VFS centre in Infantry road to apply for my UK visa. Even at that early hour (at least for me) there was a sizeable crowd at the centre, and they were of all age groups, from different stratas of society and with different purposes.
But they all wore a common expression -- anxiety. There was this elderly gentleman who tried to strike a conversation with everyone around him, but never could manage to get that anxious look away from the clock on the far end of the wall. Perhaps, waiting for the receptionist to call out his name.
Then there was a couple, probably into their fifties, holding each others hand and glancing all around nervously like a pair of college lovers. All of a sudden the attention shifted to a hefty man who barged into the room, seemingly unaware of the next step and he made a short tour to all the counters in the room before settling next to me. His first question, "Did they called my number?" I couldn't suppress a rather loud chuckle, and the man, whom I am seeing for the first time in my life, gave me an annoyed look.
Amidst all these commotions, a smug thought nestled into my mind. "Hey you folks! There is no need to panic so much. Visa process will take at least a week despite all your frantic efforts. I know it guys.. after all I have been to England in 2007." But I did not have the courage to openly express my thoughts as Adam Sandler did in Wedding Planner.
Finally, my turn came after a nearly 4-hour wait. The agent received me with a huge smile, and after checking my documents he said all of a sudden, "Oh G Unnikrishnan from Deccan Herald?" I felt like the fifth Beatle at that moment for I expected his next comments to be "I have read you a lot and I like your writing.. blah blah..." Any journalist, I am sure, will feel like that and if somebody says differently he/she will be lying blatantly or just pretending to be worldy wise.
But his words interrupted the functioning of my cocky brain. "Since you are going to UK to cover the T20 WC could you please arrange a couple of tickets for my pals in UK?"
Mr G Unnikrishnan, welcome back to earth!
But they all wore a common expression -- anxiety. There was this elderly gentleman who tried to strike a conversation with everyone around him, but never could manage to get that anxious look away from the clock on the far end of the wall. Perhaps, waiting for the receptionist to call out his name.
Then there was a couple, probably into their fifties, holding each others hand and glancing all around nervously like a pair of college lovers. All of a sudden the attention shifted to a hefty man who barged into the room, seemingly unaware of the next step and he made a short tour to all the counters in the room before settling next to me. His first question, "Did they called my number?" I couldn't suppress a rather loud chuckle, and the man, whom I am seeing for the first time in my life, gave me an annoyed look.
Amidst all these commotions, a smug thought nestled into my mind. "Hey you folks! There is no need to panic so much. Visa process will take at least a week despite all your frantic efforts. I know it guys.. after all I have been to England in 2007." But I did not have the courage to openly express my thoughts as Adam Sandler did in Wedding Planner.
Finally, my turn came after a nearly 4-hour wait. The agent received me with a huge smile, and after checking my documents he said all of a sudden, "Oh G Unnikrishnan from Deccan Herald?" I felt like the fifth Beatle at that moment for I expected his next comments to be "I have read you a lot and I like your writing.. blah blah..." Any journalist, I am sure, will feel like that and if somebody says differently he/she will be lying blatantly or just pretending to be worldy wise.
But his words interrupted the functioning of my cocky brain. "Since you are going to UK to cover the T20 WC could you please arrange a couple of tickets for my pals in UK?"
Mr G Unnikrishnan, welcome back to earth!
Monday, May 18, 2009
JUST LIKE OLDEN DAYS
I had my first tryst with top-flight tennis in 1985. I could not return to school after the mid-summer vacation since I was recovering from minor fracture on my hand and those few extra days at home helped me to develop an affection for tennis.
Though I did not realise the nuances of the game then, it was highly thrilling to watch players like Boris Becker (making his debut), Mats Wilander, Ivan Lendl and Stefan Edberg in action at the famous Centre Court.
Since then I made it a point to watch every Wimbledon, and the most exciting final -- till I watched the one between Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer in 2008 -- was the title clash between Andre Agassi and Goran Ivanisevic in 1992. Pete Sampras' seven finals were mostly one-sided, courtesy his brilliant grass court game, and I guess only Jim Courier had managed to stretch him in the 1993 final.
The '92 final was a heart-stopper. It was a contest between Agassi's prowess in returning and Ivanisevic's ability to fire aces at will. Finally, the American's all-round skills prevailed in a tense five-setter. Agassi, only man to win all four Grand Slams after Rod Laver, scripted some amazing wins and comebacks in the subsequent years, but I never imagined to see him again in action at the Centre Court after his retirement. That seemed a miracle even beyond Agassi.
But the last Sunday offered a double delight for me as in watching two great champions in action -- Agassi and Mrs Agassi (Steffi Graff) against Tim Henman and Kim Clijsters in an exhibition doubles match. There was some extra pound of flesh around Agassi's waist and his face a tad more chubby. Graff was every inch the same old West German 'wunder kind' -- epitome of feminine grace, though a bit rusty at times with racquet.
Agassi, however, straightaway hit the strides and started the proceedings with an ace down the centre reducing Clijsters to a mere spectator. The American spotted a sheepish grin immediately as if asking the Belgian to stand a few steps back. Then there was those trademark stretch-returns and backhand cross court winners, eliciting loud applause from a packed house as well as from his opponents.
Steffi had her own moments. The great German slapped Agassi on the shoulder after the latter accidentally drove a return to the midriff of Clijsters. Then there was a playful spank on her husband's back and numerous smooches in appreciation of some really remarkable shots. It was as if Henman-Clijsters duo were non-existent at the other end, and it was also a wonderful union of sports and love at the greatest stage of tennis.
A one set singles contest followed between Agassi and Henman, and time seemed to roll back at the Las Vegas man's court as he unfurled some super shots to subdue his English rival 6-4. For me, it was like travelling in a time machine.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
DELHI DAYS
It was quite unexpected but heartening to see Santosh Permual's invitation in Facebook. I could not keep regular touch (due to a vareity of reasons) with him since 2002, the year I left Press Trust of India and New Delhi once and forever.
Peru was my office-mate and flat-mate along with Harish, and the years I spent with them will always be counted as one of the most joyous in my life. Peru, hoping to hit it big in economics department, was the most experienced scribe among us while I dreamt of making a name in sports journalism and Harish in the field of court and law.
It is quite unfortunate to say that none of us could exactly realise our dreams in PTI owing to multiple reasons. But the company of each other was enough for us to forget the professional frustrations, and every weekly off day used to begin invariably with Harish's question: Innengane (What to do today?).
The undertone of the question was when to start our drinking session usually accompanied with all the gossips of the week, little mud-slinging etc etc. Unfortunately, digtial cameras and mobile phones with camera were still out of our grasps as we could not capture any of those moments. But they still shine like crystal in my memory.
Here's one gem: Peru was on evening duty in office and suddenly he was seen frantically searching for Mr Panaji after attending the phone near him. Sunday crowd were perplexed by his query and finally Harish attended the phone only to see him rolling in laughter. Actually, it was a call from PTI's Panaji office, and our poor Peru thought 'Mr Panaji' was on the line. Later he told us over a drink that the lady at the other end said in Hindi, "Panaji hei idhar, reporting mein kaun hei?" Our Hindi-Bhooshan understood it as a call for Panaji since in Delhi office 'JI' was suffixed to seniors' name like Dharji, Pathakji etc.
Cut to present. It is a good feeling to be back in touch with a man of golden heart.
Peru was my office-mate and flat-mate along with Harish, and the years I spent with them will always be counted as one of the most joyous in my life. Peru, hoping to hit it big in economics department, was the most experienced scribe among us while I dreamt of making a name in sports journalism and Harish in the field of court and law.
It is quite unfortunate to say that none of us could exactly realise our dreams in PTI owing to multiple reasons. But the company of each other was enough for us to forget the professional frustrations, and every weekly off day used to begin invariably with Harish's question: Innengane (What to do today?).
The undertone of the question was when to start our drinking session usually accompanied with all the gossips of the week, little mud-slinging etc etc. Unfortunately, digtial cameras and mobile phones with camera were still out of our grasps as we could not capture any of those moments. But they still shine like crystal in my memory.
Here's one gem: Peru was on evening duty in office and suddenly he was seen frantically searching for Mr Panaji after attending the phone near him. Sunday crowd were perplexed by his query and finally Harish attended the phone only to see him rolling in laughter. Actually, it was a call from PTI's Panaji office, and our poor Peru thought 'Mr Panaji' was on the line. Later he told us over a drink that the lady at the other end said in Hindi, "Panaji hei idhar, reporting mein kaun hei?" Our Hindi-Bhooshan understood it as a call for Panaji since in Delhi office 'JI' was suffixed to seniors' name like Dharji, Pathakji etc.
Cut to present. It is a good feeling to be back in touch with a man of golden heart.
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