Random Musings

Inspired by something a friend wrote, I have decided to write about basketball, and how I started playing.

This is back in class XII. So that’s about seven years ago.

I was always pretty good at sports, but I’d never played basketball. I mean, sure, I could dribble the ball a bit, and run about on the court, but I did not know the rules, and had never been formally coached.

My good friend Tubby, on the other hand, was a member of the Xavier team, starting five and all that. And the team was pretty good. Zonal and Cluster champs, that sort of thing.

So anyway, I used to play soccer, and volleyball, and all that, and Tubby started telling me to play basketball. He thought I’d do well at it, since I could apparently jump quite high, and I had good stamina and all that jazz.

I’d smile, and fob him off gently when he told me all this, since I thought he was batty, and nothing else. But he persisted, and got after me, and told me that I should try and all that. Basically, he pissed me off, and I finally decided to try, since he was being a pain.

So I turned up for practice. Tubby gave me a glowing recommendation, but the coach did not look convinced. I didn’t blame him, since I didn’t believe Tubby either. I sorta smiled sheepishly, and looked at the ground, at the sky, into the middle distance, anywhere but at the coach.. I knew that if I looked him in the eye, he’d burst out laughing and tell me to take a hike ( in Hindi, and not so politely.. anyone who has been coached in school knows what I mean)

Well, seeing as his star center was recommending me, the coach sorta nodded, and motioned toward the junior court. “Go forth, and play”, was his message. He obviously did not believe that I was any good. I mean, who starts playing in 12th??

Now this was a little raw. The junior court meant that I’d be playing with kids from class 8. Don’t get me wrong, these kids were good, they’d been playing for three or four years, and were very skilful, but hey, they were about six inches shorter than me. But I knew that the coach thought I was an idiot, so off I went.

The kids knew me well, but they knew me as this guy who kept winning debates, and quizzes, and stuff like that.. Not sports!? So while they were polite ( and since I was a senior prefect and could make life miserable for them if I so chose, they HAD to be polite) I could tell that they were thinking that I was some idiot.

Well, while I could not claim to be a basketball player, I could do three things very well.. I could jump, and I could run real fast, and I could steal the ball before they knew what was going on. And hey, a six-inch height advantage always helps. Within the first ten minutes, I’d stolen the ball a dozen times, blocked a whole bunch of shots, and generally pissed the kids off.. They’d stopped trying to simply blow by me, and were passing the ball away every time I came close to them..

So I had a good time, but I did not think that I’d get very far with the team. The coach was watching though. And the next day, when I started heading toward the junior court, he yelled, “Arre NAG! Kahan jaa raha hai.. Idhar aah”. Literally, Where the heck are you going, get your ass over here.

So I started practicing with the senior team. And these guys were GOOD! Four of the first five had played the nationals, and they were taller than me, and approximately a million times better. I knew that I could not compete with them on sheer skill. So I decided to narrow my focus. There was no point my trying to learn how to shoot, or do all the little tricks that came naturally to these chaps. They’d been playing for five years, and I’d just started.

So I played to my strengths. Stamina, a good jump, and fast hands. Defense was where I decided that I could actually make a difference. I could run up and down the court for forty minutes and not be winded (being on the swim team helped.. when you swim 2000mts a day, you naturally learn how to stay alive!), and I could block the shooter. I didn’t even bother shooting, I’d just steal the ball, or grab a rebound and pass it to one of the cool chappies, who’d do something fancy and swish!

Practice used to be at 6 AM.. So that meant getting up at 5, grabbing a hurried bite, and zipping off in the freezing cold morning. I was pretty cheerful, since I knew that my chances of playing on the first five were about the same as a snowball fight in the Sahara. On the other hand, I knew that ymy teammates liked me, and they appreciated the way I played. So it was nice fun.

A couple of months went by, and then came the first tournament…. I got the official school jersey, and boy o boy, was that a good feeling.. My number was 5. We got on the bus, and went off.

The tournament was the Jagat Singh Memorial Trophy, at S.M.S. This was a pretty decent tourney, for the city. We arrived, and did the usual round of warmups. Then the coach called the starting five out, and I headed to the bench, ready to cheer my lungs out.

But wait! What was this? The coach conferred with the team, and then called me over..

“Nag, the other team has this guy who is very good, and the last time we played them, he kept scoring three pointers.. We need you to stick to him like a leech. Don’t do anything fancy, pass the ball if you get it, but just stick to him”

(Translated from Hindi)

Well, a leech I could be! Resolved to be the stickiest, slimiest leech ever, I shrugged off my windbreaker, and joined the first five.. as part of it! Let me tell you, I was bloody nervous. I was very afraid that I’d mess things up, and be yelled at, and I had a funny feeling in my tummy, and my hands were sweaty and shaking, and I had this lump in my throat….

My team mates noticed my nervousness and told me not to worry.. They said that I would tire the daylights out of the chappie that I was being set to guard, and that they would take care of all the scoring.. just keep out of their way

The match began.. and I stuck to my man. And stuck. And stuck. And STUCK. I followed him around everywhere, like a sweaty shadow. I stuck my hand in his face, stole the ball, and blocked his shots. I had no idea what was going on in the game. I just kept silently telling my opponent one thing:” Dude, you are NOT going to score”

And I did run him ragged.. Halfway through the second half, I could see him flagging. He was moving slowly, his breathing was all uneven, and it was obvious that he was done…The next ten minutes were very pleasant. I smiled a lot, and jogged about with him. All very genteel..

And at the end of the match, Xavier’s won 68-40 or something like that. How many points did I score? None, of course.. But I had 6 steals, 8 blocks, and a huge bunch of rebounds.

And the guy I was guarding? He scored 5 points. The last time he’d played us, he had top scored with 28..

And that was how I became a part of the first five.

I played only a few tournaments, since I passed out shortly afterwards, but we won every one of them, and I played each and every match, and was the only guy who was not substituted out in every one. I was never tired enough, you see.. And I even scored a few points, an average of 2 baskets a game

I was awarded over a hundred certificates in school and college, for many things. But the one with the crest of St.Xavier’s and the words “Excellence in Basketball” is the closest to my heart.

Random

Nah, the subject is not intended to mean anything. I just popped that in to bemuse you. Forgive me? Aaanyway,it’s Friday night/Saturday morning, and here I am all pepped up and writing away. Deftly dipping a diffident toe.

I’ve been walking a bit after I get out of office, and there’s this little place that I came across the other day. It’s called Daily Bread, and its essentially a little coffee shop/patisserie. So the last couple of evenings I’ve been wandering in, and grabbing a bite to eat. I always have a book in my backpack, and there’s something very peaceful about just sitting down in a corner and sipping on hot coffee and reading a nice book. The weather helps. I know that I have gone on and on about the weather, but I just can’t help it.. it’s just beautiful.

I was talking to my aunt about writing, and I thought I ought to clear up something about this journal. It’s not edited. By that, I mean that I don’t frame these entries carefully, and I do not edit them for clarity once posted. All I do is glance through it once to catch any egregious errors. So if I seem all rambly and disconnected, do remember that I write in this for my ownsome, lonesome self. It all makes perfect sense to me!

When I write for publications, whether it be Linux Gazette or PC World, or even some legal stuff that I am doing these days (more on that later), I write differently. I pay more attention to split-infinitives, squishy writing, and tautologies, and generally try and do a better job. So please don’t take this journal as the definitive sample of how I write.

The legal stuff that I mentioned is related to patents and IPR. I seem to be developing an interest in certain aspects of IPR’s. I co-authored a little paper on this, for submission to the National Knowledge Commission. Ah, before you get impressed, let me clarify that this is not such a huge deal. But I did enjoy writing this, and I look forward to doing a bit more in this field.

I know I do not talk about work on a public journal, but for friends and family who know what I am doing, do buy next month’s issue, and give me feedback on my articles. I want to know how horrible they were. If you don’t know what magazine I mean, email me, and I will tell you.

Work is great fun though. Without being specific, let’s just say that the latest and greatest computer hardware is fun to play around with (8800 GTX anyone?)

I’m going to try and catch two movies over the weekend. Ratatouille and Transformers. Should be fun, don’cha think?

Oh well, off I am.. later all, goodnight and all that jazz.

Random

It’s 1 AM, and I’m trying to sleep, but for one reason or another, I’m not being able to. So I decide to fiddle about with my new phone. Pressing random buttons leads me to the radio application, and what do I hear? The Beatles! that’s what.

And anyone who knows me knows that I love the Beatles. Heck, I’ve written about them often enough on this site. So I decide to listen for a while longer, and the station does not disappoint. Eddie Vedder, Queen, and GnR follow in quick succession, and I am hooked. This is Radio Indigo, and I realize that being in Bangalore means that I can actually listen to radio without being driven away by inane Bollywood numbers, at least at night.

So I keep the headphones on, and start to think about the last three weeks. What have I been up to? Well, let me see now. I have not done anything much, besides reading a whole bunch of books. I did do some house hunting, and managed to find myself a very nice place. I’ll be moving there in September. I haven’t been out exploring, and I have not met any of my friends. On the other hand, I have been reading Georgette Heyer.

Shocked surprise? Well, it’s simple. My aunt is a big Heyer fan, and she has about thirty of the books. I’ve never read Heyer, and rather than dismiss her out of hand as a sort of ancient Mills and Boon, I decided to give her a fair chance. So far, I’ve read two. I didn’t like the first one much, but the second one was not so bad. Arabella and A Civil Contract, in case you are interested.

I’ve also been reading a bunch of other books. My uncle has a varied collection of books, with a whole lot of economics and maths jostling for space with spy thrillers and old sci-fi books.. just the kind of stuff I like. So I stick my hand at random into the shelves, and pull out a nice book.

I’ve also been eating a lot of potato chips. I’m not quite sure why, but my aunt and I have this uncanny tendency to buy a whole bunch of packets on the same day. It’s happened too many times to be a coincidence. Perhaps it’s karmic!

Talking of aunts, I must say that I understand what Wodehouse meant when he said that whatever else they may be, Aunts aren’t Gentlemen! And yes, I know you are reading this, O dear Aunt. But remember, Bertie had two aunts, Agatha, and Dahlia.. Which one do you think you resemble? I leave that as a point to ponder..

But all jokes aside, I have been having a really lovely time here. I have these great conversations with my uncle, where we discuss everything under the sun, and then some. We talk of humanity, and where we are going, and of course what is the POINT of it all? We segue into a little discussion about parallel universes and string theory, and come back to earth via a digression into historical follies, and the necessity of number portability. Makes me feel right at home, and I know for a fact that Bangalore seems like a lovely city because of the great three weeks I’ve had.

Work, well, work is quite good fun. I have been writing about different things, and I am learning a lot of new things. I don’t want to write too much about work on a public journal, but those of you who have spoken to me know that I am having a good time.

I will be moving into my own place soon, and I will miss the great month that I’ve had here. “Own Place” sounds all grown up, and I realize that with a bit of a pang. It will be fun, and I intend to learn as much as possible about cooking, and cleaning, and basically what a huge pain it is to do everything for oneself. At home, things just seem to happen, and it’s only when you have to wash your own clothes, and pay the damm electricity bill, and try and find that elusive sock, while simultaneously trying to remember where on earth you kept that Very Important Document, that you realize that it’s not all fun and games.

Oh well, here’s looking forward to things that are yet to be, and mysteries that have to be solved, and finding out what’s around the next corner!

Random

So here I am, in Bangalore. I’ve been here since Saturday, but thanks to spotty internet connectivity at home, this is the first post.

The first thing I noticed was the weather. It’s been cloudy for the past five days, with intermittent showers. It’s cool, and walking around is very nice, since you don’t feel the heat at all.

Traffic is crazy. Not crazy in the sense that it does not move, ala Mumbai, but crazy in the sense that people seem to drive by the seat of their pants. Weaving and ducking through traffic is considered completely normal, and the autos especially are a thrill a minute ride. Intrestingly though, people don’t fight much. They’ll come to a screeching halt, and smile at the guy they almost dismembered. And, most times, he’ll smile back! Or content himself with a rueful shake of the head. If this kind of thing happened in Delhi, there would be blood on the streets.

Buses are packed. And I mean PACKED. And, to make matters worse, the routes are labelled only in Kannada. So there is no way you can tell where the bus is going, or where it’s coming from. Squiggle memory needs to be updated.

The people are quite friendly, though. English is widely understood, and the average chappie on the street usually responds politely to a query. I think the lovely weather just makes everyone that little bit happier.

I started work on Wednesday. It’s quite interesting, and nice fun, so far. I haven’t been around much, yet. Just walked a little bit around MG Road, and it’s immediate environs.

So, that’s that for a quick post from work. I’ll write a longer one over the weekend.

Random