Jhakas | Sanjay Jha
The expected debacle at Port Elizabeth confirmed the fact that the over-rated, over-hyped and over-done "process of experimentation" and favoured selection of "young boys" by the incompetent BCCI, a bunch of yes-men called national selectors, a bull-headed coach and a subservient, subdued captain has clearly boomeranged into a titanic embarrassment.
For the first time in several years when we did a straw poll with our office colleagues, we found a unanimous opinion that India's defeat at St George's was seen not just as a distinct possibility but an underwritten guarantee. The fact that we did finally crumble into saw dust for just 163 runs in 38-odd overs was thus perhaps a foregone conclusion. And everyone is contemplating an alternate career as a soothsayer. Continue reading below
I have singularly maintained that Greg Chappell may have been a terrific middle-order batsman in those ancient times, but he is essentially got a thick-headed texture, lacks strategic insight, has no smart game-plan and is remarkably unintelligent. India is paying a huge price for their generous tolerance of Mr Chappell's gross misdeeds and miscalculations.
Wasim Jaffer, who looked like he had just read the script of a Stephen King horror movie, seemed spiritually calmer returning back to the pavilion for a satisfying dinner than facing a Makhaya Ntini bouncer headed for his rib cage.
Veeru Sehwag, as a stand-in-skipper, at least adopted the right attitude, going for aggressive belligerence. It is another story that his saga ended in a soft tear-jerker like a Ekta Kapoor sob marathon.
Sachin Tendulkar was expected to be the imperial knight in shining armour, especially in the absence of Rahul Dravid. He was trying to valiantly dodge around with a Shaun Pollock delivery outside his off-stump with his flashing sword, restricting his mighty stay to just three balls. Shouldn't the fading hero have come in at No 4?
Mohd Kaif, still shell-shocked by rowdy miscreants pelting his home and burning effigies in Mulayam Singh's turbulent land, had a worse enemy in a dithering, confused Dinesh Karthik. A haplessly run-out Kaif, looking miserably dejected and let-down, was the ultimate face of Indian cricket last night. Lonely, lost and languid.
How juvenile, unprofessional and downright stupid is Chappell's thinking can be gauged by this one solitary example; Mr Dinesh Karthik is sent in at No 5 ahead of the more solid, considerably experienced and relatively in-touch MS Dhoni just because technically Karthik played as a "batsman", since he was occupying crease having replaced a regular bloke like Dinesh Mongia or Suresh Raina.
Believe me, Indian cricket has touched an abysmal nadir, and it is led by a coach who is evidently dim-witted. Can someone kindly fathom what exactly is going on?
MS Dhoni and Irfan Pathan showed that they still possessed enough intrepidity to restore the country's reputation somewhat, but Graeme Smith rightfully sealed India's fate at Port Elizabeth itself, making the last ODI at Centurion Park, a mere carnival affair meant for statistics compilers.
Earlier, the Indian bowlers tasted modest success with two old war-horses Zaheer Khan and Anil Kumble toiling hard and making quick breakthroughs, but Herschelle Gibbs and J Kallis consolidated strongly, buttressed by both Shaun Pollock and Marc Boucher. That was team-work, a fighting spirit, and a determined lot in display in bright green and yellow clothing. As for their opponents, they were in blue. And with reason.
In a commercial advertisement played frequently between India's despondent cricket performance yesterday, a chatterbox housewife gives Rahul Dravid some over-the-top instructions on running between the wickets. Dravid, turns sardonically to the camera, and dismisses her sermonizing with, "Every Tom, Dick and Harry gives advice - but I listen only to..."
Given our current predicament and our team's performance, I believe the corpulent blabbering housewife in the advertisement would make a better coach. Ask Mohammed Kaif.
