I am a Bowling Machine…
Last week my nephew Ashwin came to me and asked about a machine he had seen on TV. He was watching some sports channel and there he saw a machine that throws balls to the batsman. He asked me what it was. I told him that is was a bowling machine. “Can you buy me one?” he asked. “It is too expensive; I don’t have that kind of money.” I told him. This is a scene that repeats very often. If show him a Ferrari, then the first question would be “Can you buy me one?”
Last Saturday, after lunch I was relaxing reading a magazine. Ashwin wanted to play cricket and for some time he and his sister were playing. Since my niece is too young, she cannot throw the ball as he wanted. He was getting frustrated. First, he tried to coach her on how to bowl well. But since she didn’t have the strength, the ball was not reaching him. So he came to me.
Aaachacha, can you bowl for me?
Ask your dad or mom.
They are busy.
I am tired.
Why are you tired?
I was working from the morning.
No, you were sitting in front of the computer; that is not work.
Then what is work?
When you work you sweat and you get tired. You were sitting in the room, the AC was on and you didn’t do anything except staring at the screen and typing.
I was not staring; I was reading…
Both are same… I was watching the TV since morning and I am not tired.
That is because you are young.
But you had your lunch.
You too had lunch.
I am not tired; also you ate more than me.
That is because I am bigger than you.
Then you should eat less so that your weight will come down.
OK [@#$%!%!]
Will you bowl for me?
I cannot field the ball.
Irene will do the fielding.
OK
So, I left the comforts of my study and went to our dining room, which also doubles as the cricket ground. We made an interesting group—a batsman who will never get out (not even when he is clean bowled, he thinks he is W. G. Grace [1]), a bowler who cannot field and a fielder who believes that every time she has to pick up a ball she has to dive or skid.
The arrangement was that Ashwin will bat, I will bowl, and Irene will field. I sat at one end of the room and started bowling. Ashwin is a flamboyant batsman and bats with a lot of flourish as long as the ball is pitched straight. If I bowl spin or swings the ball, he will declare it as a ‘No’ ball. So my only choice was to bowl and get hammered. Since my fielder strongly believes in diving through the air or sliding on the floor before picking up the ball, she won’t even stop the balls that come straight to her. She will kick them away and then make a dive or slide and then pick up the ball—hangover of seeing too many ODIs and 20-20 matches.
So while the fielder was doing her calisthenics, the batsman was amassing runs at will—single, twos, threes, boundaries and sixers. Then came the new terminology—seveners, eighters, niners and so on. Soon he was nearing his double century and my arms and shoulders were paining. So I pleaded that we stop the play as I wanted to take some rest. Luckly, all the seveners and eighters had taken their toll and he too was tired. So we stopped and I was told to be at the same place at the same time the next day—Sunday. Sunday was the repeat performance, with Ashwin scoring a triple century and Irene diving and skidding and always taking her own sweet time to get the ball back.
Sunday evening I decided to watch a movie—Chak De. Both Ashwin and Irene were seeing hockey for the first time. During the movie they peppered me with questions. I told that I will answer all the questions after the movie. After the movie, I told them about hockey, how it is played, about the great hockey players like Dhyan Chand. I also told them that hockey is our national game and that we had won 8 Olympics Gold medals for hockey.
They were hooked to hockey and they saw the movie once again. Tuesday or Wednesday, my brother bought two plastic hockey sticks and a ball and now they are happily playing hockey. I hope their love for hockey lasts at least for a few months; otherwise I will again have to become the bowling machine!
[1] Once W. G. Grace, the famous English cricketer, was given out early in a county match. He refused to go out as he said, “They’ve come to see me bat, not you umpire. Play on!”
