"Royal Mech vs Generation Mech"
This is the headline of the latest news happening in our class. When we learned that the mechanical faculty actually had a 11 member cricket team, we never believed it would end in such a match - The students vs staff match. It is expected to happen tmmrw. In fact I am one of the member of the Challenger Team which really got a huge thrashing playing with our Class team in a friendly warm up match today. But I guess more than a few members of the class XI would agree that the warm up really helped especially if they got to beat the faculty tmmrw.
But let us travel back a little in time. The whole cricket mania erupted in our class when the BCCI announced the historic Indian Premier League ( spzl thanks to ICL for instigating them to do so). We pretty much enacted the process with real time bidding (with fake money of course), managers, cheerleaders ( Go!! sibu go!!) and of course cricket itself. While the stage set was not that big enough , the spirit was never lacking. In fact I was one of the bidders and our team
Immortals was perhaps the best when it comes to spirit and hooliganism. We were also the only team to beat the
Bethany Mustangs - the eventual winners. We were like the old Indian team - consistently inconsistent. At this juncture I would like to congratulate all the members of the MPL (Mechanical Premier League) for making it a huge success especially Kiran, Ajith and Thoufeeq for their coordination.
This actually makes me wonder how I got myself into this game. I was never a big fan of cricket at least not of the playing part. I usually spent my sporting abilities on soccer and badminton ( though a rather injured arm is not helping me in that). But cricket is one sport I enjoy even without winning, and I get to enjoy a lot ;) So whatever influenced me to play this game, I am glad I did.
This is a poem I wrote about Cricket. It was written long way back, so all critics out there plz be indulgent.
Cricket - The battle of Kings
{poem written on 12 /2/2003}
You see a game of cricket,
feeling a thirst for wicket,
fighting with a sword for runs,
training soldiers only for wins.
They take the sword not for kills.
But of ten take pills for their ills.
Hate, redress and revenge is found,
for they play like a growing hound.
Those who love their game of cricket
are rushing for a piece of ticket,
for leading them are the sons
of the mighty noble kings.