I am a rock

I have my books And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me

I'll have to confess I hate those introductions you need to make in front of all these daunting audiences that stare at you like hawks.Your adrenaline flows and as a result the sound vibrations are mitigated when they pass through the throat and all that scientific stuff.You become too self conceited and impose more strain on the bean bag that grapples with sensitive subjects like 'how do i start','What do i say','How trivial' and things like that.Its also one of those situations thats tailor made for plastic smiles and cultivated accents.

I know its corny and all but I am not like one of those blokes who run a marathon when confronted with such an ordeal.Stutter or stammer(Mind you i cant even take the help of those kindred spirits) i face these situations like a cat on a cold tin roof!And after a spirited but messy display on one such occasion a friend came up to me and said as a true friend would of course 'why dont you work on your elevator pitch maite?'.Well,'If you really want to hear about it.......'.You get it right?!

Academia,Here I come

At last my drowsy eyes found something interesting.It was an article in 'the sportstar'.A comparison between warne and muralitharan.Part of the arguement rested upon the statistical heights these two spinners would scale and all that.It was then I started reflecting.Does it really matter at all?

Sport is more than mere numbers.For whenever i see warne bowl it gives me an instant thrill.An inexplicable,intangible feeling.The statistician though would appreciate the number of wickets Murlali's elbows would have fetched him before he decides to give them a rest.And in all probablity that would be elbows ahead of warney's numbers!The S would do it with the same passion with which he would count sachin's 'match winning hundreds' and shahid afridi's record breaking sixes.What a futile exercise.

Those whove watched warne tweak a legbreak and sachin play a cover drive in its true spirit would never fall for the arguement.The purity of such expression should never be reduced to a statistical travesty.

An ageing dennis lillee with his tail up, last ball of the day dismantling the stumps of Viv Richards in the centenary test;Tendulkar fighting agonizing pain and a great Pakistani attack on a hot summer's day in Chennai;Steve waugh running alongside the bowler to put aus into the senifinals; -quantify these for me.For these are moments that form the very backbone of sport.And individuals who stand up to these moments day in and day out regardless of the results and the numbers for they have inherent in them those 'unquantifiable instincts' are streets ahead of the rest.

Richie benaud summed it up perfectly in one of his million stints in the com box.He was going through the all time list of highest wickettakers.A visibly moved Benaud then said 'Oh,The name dennis doesnt find a space even in page two of the list.But take my word for it,he was an abbsoluute classicc'And that to me summarizes the essence of the issue.It instills the faith that sport is not a game of numbers and results.It also restores my faith in that 'unquantifiable instinct' that separates the tendulkars from the dravids,the warnes from the muralis,the lillies from the mcgraths,and the gods from the men.