I really can’t decide which side of the fence I’m on when it comes to reacting to a defeat. I’m really inconsistent and unpredictable with those. I’m a self-declared sore loser, just can’t stand losing, usually end up being moody and nasty and extremely sarcastic to the victor after a defeat. And sometimes I just accept and try doing better the next time. Today’s losing streak can’t be categorised. If you must know, I was outplayed, outfoxed, outthought and completely outclassed by my good friend Pankaj. When it comes to table tennis (ping pong), I’m one of those not so good but so bad types that do pull off the odd win. More due to pure luck (catching the farthest corners of the table for instance) than due to skill.
I’d like to blame lack of practice for today’s debacle, but since I don’t look at it as a sport in the first place, I’ll have to look somewhere else for an explanation. Because it surely can’t be the botched style of serving, the ages it takes me to react to a shot, inviting a violent smash with every return, and being completely undone when the smash does come and watching it sail past my outstretched hand (always a second too late). I’m pretty convinced I suck, although my vanquisher (being a gracious man and a fair competitor) wouldn’t think so. He’d like me to not give up hope and continue to let him beat me.
And so for the sake of the record, I am going to play him again in a marathon fifteen match series and hope to be blanked 15-0. After all if it gets me a record, I’m all for it.
I just lost 13-0 today. Beat That!
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Record Broken!
I’ve been trying to test myself ever since 31st October, 2009 when I did the impossible. Turns out, exhaustion was the answer. I’d just returned from this class trip to Jodhpur on 7th March, 2010 and after dragging the suitcase up two stories, a welcome back hug, and a couple of hours of narrating all the debauchery to a stunned audience, and a meal, I hit the hay and woke up with a massive headache. In short total time clocked, 3.30 pm – 9 am on a sunny 8th March. I’ve been trying to better myself ever since, but it finally seems I’ve come to my limit of natural sleep and thus safely proclaim 17 and a half hours to be my new P.W.R. Beat that!
P.W.R. – 15 and half hours in LalaLand
It’s not always intentionally that you create a personal world record (P.W.R.). Sometimes, they just happen when you aren’t expecting them. That’s what makes them so cool. You don’t even need to awake to be a record-holder. For example you could go to sleep at night and wake up to find yourself proudly holding a P.W.R. for the longest sleepwalk. Of course, when you do wake you might end up taking a naked stroll with the penguins bang in the middle of you-know-where and icicles will have formed on your nipples and who knows where else.
On 31st October, 2009, I added another record to my collection. I slept for 15 and half hours. I remember sleeping somewhere around midnight and waking up at 1530 hours the next day. I’ve always thought I was capable of pulling off such a caper but I’d never consciously tried it. Turns out, I didn’t need to. I’m not sure of all that happened in between my snores but I’m sure it wasn’t anything I missed including that shower of thick dark chocolate that smothered Kashmir – gotcha!
Bottomline – the world may end, Rakhi Sawant may decide to pose and weird, slimy half penguin-half snail crossbreeds may cover the earth in goo, but I ain’t gonna ever wake up.
On 31st October, 2009, I added another record to my collection. I slept for 15 and half hours. I remember sleeping somewhere around midnight and waking up at 1530 hours the next day. I’ve always thought I was capable of pulling off such a caper but I’d never consciously tried it. Turns out, I didn’t need to. I’m not sure of all that happened in between my snores but I’m sure it wasn’t anything I missed including that shower of thick dark chocolate that smothered Kashmir – gotcha!
Bottomline – the world may end, Rakhi Sawant may decide to pose and weird, slimy half penguin-half snail crossbreeds may cover the earth in goo, but I ain’t gonna ever wake up.
P.W.R.
I’m not much of acronyms person, I find it’s too American a tendency, but I have no choice here. Most American acronyms are too mundane and unimaginatively constructed, in fact the only reason they are part of their Lingua Franca is because the dumb chumps can’t remember the big words. Just in case you didn’t know, they aren’t brightest of people.
Getting back to acronyms, P.W.R wasn’t too hard to come up, it means Personal World Record. The expression is my way of snubbing the Guinness Book of World Records because most of us are ordinary individuals who don’t go around playing with our quite breakable spinal cords and openly challenging death to a game of catch-me-if-you-can. You don’t need me to tell you who wins. And so I’ve come up with a revolutionary, harmless method of world-record setting. This way, everybody can become a world-record holder and there hopefully won’t be too many broken bones.
If you’re wondering what kind of records you’re allowed to set or break, wonder no further. You’ll be amazed by the sheer simplicity of the entire jig. Just go about doing normal everyday stuff and claim it is as your own P.W.R. Let me give you a few examples. A few months I set a new personal record by not bathing for five straight days. The streak came to an end on a Sunday. So the next week I went one further and made it six. And for all those disgusted friends of mine, I’d like to let you know that unlike most of you, I don’t suffer from body odour, so had I not confessed, you probably would never have guessed it.
Moving on to something more fun, my personal record for most paanipooris eaten stands at 25. Beat that! I have been challenged to a bout of paanipoori-ing by a middle-aged squirt, which I would have refused knowing her decades of experience in the field, but I’m way too stupid and supposedly proud to back down from a challenge even though it could cause irreversible damage to my taste buds and result in my never being able to look another paanipoori in the eye. While we’re on the subject, I’d also like to mention my favourite record, that of downing the largest, most piping hot, dripping in ghee Parathas known to man (courtesy of my darling grandmother) five days a week. I can now confidently say: Beat That! I know you won’t because you won’t ever get the chance to.
Now that you know the opportunities in setting your very own P.W.R’s are limitless, get cracking at them and show Guinness that you don’t need to melt to be a German melting away inside a sauna to be a world-record holder. And what’s more, write to me about the records you set, I promise that no matter how silly or puke-inducing they turn out to be, one day you will see them compiled in a fat book with lots of pictures that you can gladly gift your grandkids for Christmas fifty years from now.
Getting back to acronyms, P.W.R wasn’t too hard to come up, it means Personal World Record. The expression is my way of snubbing the Guinness Book of World Records because most of us are ordinary individuals who don’t go around playing with our quite breakable spinal cords and openly challenging death to a game of catch-me-if-you-can. You don’t need me to tell you who wins. And so I’ve come up with a revolutionary, harmless method of world-record setting. This way, everybody can become a world-record holder and there hopefully won’t be too many broken bones.
If you’re wondering what kind of records you’re allowed to set or break, wonder no further. You’ll be amazed by the sheer simplicity of the entire jig. Just go about doing normal everyday stuff and claim it is as your own P.W.R. Let me give you a few examples. A few months I set a new personal record by not bathing for five straight days. The streak came to an end on a Sunday. So the next week I went one further and made it six. And for all those disgusted friends of mine, I’d like to let you know that unlike most of you, I don’t suffer from body odour, so had I not confessed, you probably would never have guessed it.
Moving on to something more fun, my personal record for most paanipooris eaten stands at 25. Beat that! I have been challenged to a bout of paanipoori-ing by a middle-aged squirt, which I would have refused knowing her decades of experience in the field, but I’m way too stupid and supposedly proud to back down from a challenge even though it could cause irreversible damage to my taste buds and result in my never being able to look another paanipoori in the eye. While we’re on the subject, I’d also like to mention my favourite record, that of downing the largest, most piping hot, dripping in ghee Parathas known to man (courtesy of my darling grandmother) five days a week. I can now confidently say: Beat That! I know you won’t because you won’t ever get the chance to.
Now that you know the opportunities in setting your very own P.W.R’s are limitless, get cracking at them and show Guinness that you don’t need to melt to be a German melting away inside a sauna to be a world-record holder. And what’s more, write to me about the records you set, I promise that no matter how silly or puke-inducing they turn out to be, one day you will see them compiled in a fat book with lots of pictures that you can gladly gift your grandkids for Christmas fifty years from now.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Yes Yes Yes eeeeyyhuusssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!
They have done it! Suprs have done! They're going to play in Europe! The top four has broken! Tottenham Hotspur 1 - 0 Manchester City! We're goint to play in the Champions League for the first time in our history! Bring 'em on and let's beat the arse the finish third! GLORY GLORY TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR! PARTY AT WHITE HART LANE!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
John Cusack vs. Kevin Spacey
I can’t believe how similar they look. I’ve been confusing one for the other each time one of them appears on screen and I don’t catch the credits at the start of a movie. Google’s come to rescue once again. I don’t intend misplacing this image ever; never know when it might come in handy. I just wish the interviewer in the video had done her homework and avoided embarrassing herself on camera. The classic interview mistake.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Nehra's Nuts
Too bad South Africa lost, can’t believe they got so close even after Kallis left. I’m a little disappointed but the match was fun. The highlight wasn’t Raina’s 100 or Kallis’ brave innings. The defining moment of the match came in Nehra’s last over. Goofy as I like to call him was completely totalled by that wild throw that smashed into his nuts. My scream of delight only got raised eyebrows from my mother – a woman extremely sensitive to loud high-pitched noises. I doubt he’ll suffer any lasting damage, but it felt good to see some other man have his crown jewels shattered for a change.
The outcome
I couldn’t do it. He was right before me, running around like an idiot. I had my chances, I came real close at times but I didn’t get him.
I don’t know what stopped me brining him down, maybe it was the fear of injuring my leg further in the process or fouling him in the penalty area and drawing an unnecessary penalty. I defended the ball pretty well though, and kept him away, clipping on his heels as soon as he was on it. My best chance came when he was nearly through on goal and I had to stop him getting there. I did, shoving him off the ball and winning the physical battle for the first time. I should have swung my leg across his ankle right then while trying to keep him from scoring. I didn’t do it.
This confirms my long held belief that I just can’t bring myself to harm another human being, no matter what the circumstances, not without my conscience giving me hell. Thanks for all the advice Malik, for telling me what to do to guarantee maximum pain, but I just couldn’t do it.
I don’t know what stopped me brining him down, maybe it was the fear of injuring my leg further in the process or fouling him in the penalty area and drawing an unnecessary penalty. I defended the ball pretty well though, and kept him away, clipping on his heels as soon as he was on it. My best chance came when he was nearly through on goal and I had to stop him getting there. I did, shoving him off the ball and winning the physical battle for the first time. I should have swung my leg across his ankle right then while trying to keep him from scoring. I didn’t do it.
This confirms my long held belief that I just can’t bring myself to harm another human being, no matter what the circumstances, not without my conscience giving me hell. Thanks for all the advice Malik, for telling me what to do to guarantee maximum pain, but I just couldn’t do it.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
another sunday morning
I’m going to the beach to play football tomorrow, like i do every Sunday. Being part of and playing for P.W.F.C. (Pandurang Waadi Football Club) is something I’m very proud of. Tomorrow will be different. As usual I’m going to play to win but also this once, to injure. I think of myself as incapable of harming another human being. Yet tomorrow I will, at least, I will try.
My right leg still hurts from the bad tackle I got last week. And that’s the leg I must use to hurt the wrongdoer. The chump’s name is Dhruv, the kind of guy with great stamina and who can play any position, and well too. He’s normally quite fun to play against, running around a lot, cracking jokes etc. He plays clean too, which isn’t to say that he doesn’t tackle.
He does. And with his shoes hitting our bare feet, it hurts. A lot. And so I must invoke the Roy Keane spirit and put him out of the match tomorrow like he did to me did last week. I want to hurt him, watch him writhe in pain and maybe even spit on his face as an insult to injury because I’m sick of asking him to remove his shoes while everyone else plays barefoot and him not caring a damn. I’m tired of his unnecessary tackles that can really hurt. I don’t want him trying those stupid antics on any of my teammates. And injury prone as he is, I want him to know what a real injury feels like and that I’m not going to take this lying down.
Most of all, I want revenge, to pay him back, hit him hard on the calf and make him wonder for about an hour if he’ll play football again this week.
My grandma says i shouldn’t be vindictive when it comes to sports, my team-mates say this isn’t a serious injury. I know and that’s the reason I’ve recovered in time to make amends. And this once, I’m not going to listen to my grandma. See you after the showdown and even if there isn’t one. Until then, Glory Glory Tottenham Hotspur!
My right leg still hurts from the bad tackle I got last week. And that’s the leg I must use to hurt the wrongdoer. The chump’s name is Dhruv, the kind of guy with great stamina and who can play any position, and well too. He’s normally quite fun to play against, running around a lot, cracking jokes etc. He plays clean too, which isn’t to say that he doesn’t tackle.
He does. And with his shoes hitting our bare feet, it hurts. A lot. And so I must invoke the Roy Keane spirit and put him out of the match tomorrow like he did to me did last week. I want to hurt him, watch him writhe in pain and maybe even spit on his face as an insult to injury because I’m sick of asking him to remove his shoes while everyone else plays barefoot and him not caring a damn. I’m tired of his unnecessary tackles that can really hurt. I don’t want him trying those stupid antics on any of my teammates. And injury prone as he is, I want him to know what a real injury feels like and that I’m not going to take this lying down.
Most of all, I want revenge, to pay him back, hit him hard on the calf and make him wonder for about an hour if he’ll play football again this week.
My grandma says i shouldn’t be vindictive when it comes to sports, my team-mates say this isn’t a serious injury. I know and that’s the reason I’ve recovered in time to make amends. And this once, I’m not going to listen to my grandma. See you after the showdown and even if there isn’t one. Until then, Glory Glory Tottenham Hotspur!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)