The cricket season finds the armchair cricket expert in me in full flow. Armed with a battery of statistics and an impeccable recall of past events, the expert in me makes a devastating dissection of the merits of the opposing teams. None dare challenge my authoritative pronouncements("the ball will turn and assist the unorthodox leg spinner during the post-tea session on the fourth day")or the condition of the outfield("will slowdown the ground strokes").
A full 30 minutes before the game is due to start, I hog the TV screen, pulling my chair a mere 1 metre from the set. As the game gets underway, I lean forward and peer at the screen with my short-sighted eyes to check if the field placement is upto exacting standards. I shake my head censoriously and growl,"No,No, this won't do. Ganguly would never have set a field like this. The gully ought to be deeper, the forward short-leg finer, and the mid-on and widish mid-off ought to come closer."
Only a sharp inswinger pitched just outside the offstump and coming in line with the batsman's leg guard can get the cricket expert out of me. Or, it is Megha(my daughter in law) with an announcement,"Papa come, breakfast is ready."
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