The FIFA World Cup is upon us and I fear the worst. During the last World Cup, we braced ourselves for “expert comments” from John Abraham. This time it’s going to be Anupam Kher, isn’t it?
A “Kooda” player is a good-for-nothing nobody who merely makes up the numbers in any team. He is the last to be picked and first to be made to pay up for lost balls. Until the IPL Fantasy League offers a chance at redemption.
We are quick to jump for our Twitter accounts whenever an athlete wins at an international event. The pride is great and necessary. But beyond the celebration of individual achievement, shouldn’t it inspire us toward deeper engagement with sports?
Men and women have reacted to Serena Williams’ outburst at the US Open final differently. Several men viewed it rather straightforwardly, siding with fairness in sport. The larger chunk of the support for Williams has come from women across the world – possibly because stuff like this happens to us every day.
In a testosterone-filled environment, the women of IPL stand out – anchors, journalists, producers, the wives and girlfriends of players. Everyone fights a stereotype. We deflect low-key sexual harassment – flirtatious advances, late-night calls in your hotel room – to stay in the game.
Shahid Kapoor’s Jersey doesn’t quite better the original, but for first-time viewers it is a compelling father-son story that successfully masquerades as a tale of sporting redemption.
I never learned to swim as a child; my landlocked family believed that Maths tuition was a more pressing investment. So at 25, when I signed up for classes at Very Maharashtrian Sports ComplexTM, I was in the company of only 10-year-olds. Suddenly, the moustache I grew over the summer felt like a terrible idea.
After his deportation from Australia, the world’s best tennis player, Novak Djokovic looks set to also miss the French Open. The Serb has not always been likeable, but in flouting Covid rules, and endangering others he has crossed a line from where his legend now seems irredeemable.
When you play a sport, any sport, especially one as unglamorous as TT, it requires a different life. It has to go from being a sport, or a few hours of freedom, into your whole raison d’etre.
There has been this sudden expectation from referees to run as fast as Cristiano Ronaldo, maintain the vision of Hawkeye, and display the coolness of the Dalai Lama, while being super self-aware that every single error they make will instantly be dissected by millions of fans. But let’s remember referees are humans too.