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The Quirky Life of P

Humor and satire revolving around Mr P- a fictional mix of an avatar of Mr Bean and the veritable Bertram Wooster of Wodehouse fame.

Archive for the category “Sports”

Stumped by cricket jargon…

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Like other humans of the planet, let alone humans of New York, P had his faults but no one could ever accuse him of being a sporty person. The sports pages of the newspapers P bought were left, unopened and unread. However, when his neighbour Chris said he had tickets for a one day match between his hometown and a rival city, P readily agreed to accompany him as he had been cooped up indoors all during the week-end and needed to get some sunshine and his quota of Vitamin D.

They reached the grounds just in time. No sooner than they had taken their seats, P got up and left to buy some drinks and pop corn and had to line up in a queue. He could hear the crowd roar occasionally and knew that some progress was being made in the game. He was anxious to know the position of the home team.

When he returned, offering Chris a drink P asked “Any goals so far?”

A stunned Chris replied “This is cricket. There are no goals but runs and wickets!”

“OK”, said P perplexedly. “I know “run” and I know “wicked”, but what is a wicket?”

“You see those stumps at both ends with those bails on top? Those are wickets”

“I get it”, said P with an intelligent nod. “Have we made a good score?”

“Well”’ said Chris, “The run rate is pretty slow… Look’s like this is not a batting wicket”

“What do you mean?” asked a flummoxed P.

Chris looked at P and saw the confusion which only escalated as Chris explained “You know, by wicket, I mean the pitch or that piece of ground out there”

Just then there was roar from the crowd and Chris returned his eyes back to the game.

“Oh Sendulkar has been caught behind!” he cried, putting his hands on his head.

P looked at the field. He could not see anybody holding onto anybody’s back. He saw only a man walking back to the pavilion with his bat while other players in the ground seemed to be rejoicing at something.

P was simply bamboozled!

“That was an important wicket that has fallen,” Chris continued despondently.

P looked at the stumps and sticks on either end of the ground in the middle. They were still out there standing erect like soldiers on a parade. None of them had fallen or were lying on the ground…..

“But those wickets are still upright over there,” P pointed out to Chris.

“A wicket has fallen in the abstract sense”, Chris tried to explain.

P tried to absorb the idea of a wicket falling in an abstract sense….

He was simply stumped! All the cricket jargon made no sense to him. His common sense sent his attention back to his coke and popcorn chicken.

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Curve Balls

Overload alert

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In The Beginning There Was No Football….

Football was in the air and P was limping with a bandaged right foot.  He had been watching the game between USA and Germany and he had been cheering and supporting USA. At the eighty-sixth minute the Americans had had a chance to snatch an equaliser but the opportunity evaporated as Dempsey, who was fed in a promising position by Yedlin, couldn’t put the final ball in the right path. However, P who was sitting on the sofa, totally and vicariously involved with the game, had involuntarily hit out with his leg to kick the ball and his foot had struck the coffee table.

 

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P was now reading about how the Uruguayan player, Luis Suarez, was expelled for biting an Italian player during the game on Tuesday. “Sad,” P muttered. “Was he fighting tooth and nail for victory?” P shook his head and shrugged. P would rather bite into many things… sausages, sandwiches, steaks, potatoes and even vegetables… But biting Italians… It was way off his league….
His mind on football, the day’s newspaper now resting on his chest, he leant back on the sofa and pondered on the origin of the game. He had heard stories about world’s early footballs being made from pig’s bladder, but how exactly did it start as a game was P’s question. He let his imagination take reigns…

Long, long ago, when the ice age had started to melt and the world was coming to life again, there was this early human called P who lived in a cave. He was still looking for a partner, but it was hard in those times as nobody ventured out for long because it was still cold.  Almost everything was coated in ice those days and even if a would-be partner had come knocking on his cave door, he would not have been able to distinguish her from any wild beast. So, P lived all alone in his cave and he had a neighbour who lived all alone in a cave just opposite.

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One day a wild pig wandered into P’s cave parlour and he slaughtered it for food. As he cut open the pig with his sharp stones, he found a sac like organ with a tube like structure, under the belly skin of the pig. He carefully cut it out and inspected it. He tried to look through the opening of the tube.. He tried pulling at the tube.. He tried sucking the tube.. And then he blew through the hole on one end of the tube. To his amazement the sac grew bigger and bigger. When he was finally out of breath, he tied up the ends to keep the air in the sac which was now filled out in the shape of a ball.

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P watched the ball proudly and played with it with his hands. After a while he got bored and left the  ball well alone for a few days. Those days, everything was coated in ice and things did not spoil easily. Then on a day of blistering ice fall, P was cave bound. He had nothing to do other than scratch figures on his cave wall. He was wondering if his neighbour whom he had seen going out earlier had returned back to his cave, but P did not want to venture out in the wet ice to check. P suddenly had a brilliant idea. He brought out his  ball and kicked it across to the other cave. No sooner had it rolled in through the entrance of the cave, than his neighbour appeared at the opening with the ball and kicked it back to P. P grinned and kicked the ball back to the neighbour who returned it promptly again. This continued for some time and both found that using their feet to kick the ball to the opposite side was really fun… and the world’s first football game was born!

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Now that P had solved the origin of the football game, his thoughts wandered to the ball he himself had made from a pig’s bladder. Just when the world cup football games had started, he had read about how they made footballs in Victorian times. He then had gone to the nearby slaughter-house and procured a pig’s bladder after paying a hefty sum. The butcher had thought that there was some ulterior motive behind P’s demand for a pig’s bladder and had decided to charge him accordingly. Back home, P had washed the bladder in water and he blew air into the bladder using a straw as he had seen it being described in the book “Little House in the Big Woods”, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. To make a football as they did in Victorian times, he had to put it in the oven and bake it for 45 minutes on low heat. However, all the efforts of procuring and washing the bladder, and the innumerable attempts at filling it with air before he finally succeeded, had drained him of his energy and he had postponed the baking till after his afternoon nap.
Suddenly, P realised the reason for the all-pervading foul odour that was shrouding his house for the past few days. He had forgotten all about baking the bladder ball and it was the era of global warming and not just after the ice age! He rushed to the kitchen cabinet where he had last left the ball. When he located the ball he decided that not only could he not play football with his his sore foot, he also somehow had to get rid of the stinky ball ASAP. So he sent it flying over the fence to his neighbour’s backyard. It promptly came flying back from the other side with a lot of expletives and P now also understood how the game of handball could have originated!

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In the beginning

Things go wrong for Mr P on the yoga mat!

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Mr P could go on and on about the merits of yoga. Like most yogis, he also liked talking about the goodness of being a vegetarian. Yet P was a vegetarian only when there was no non vegetarian food available. Slightly misquoting the original saying P justified that though he craved to be a vegetarian, “the spirit was willing, but  flesh made him weak!!!” .

Anyway, coming back to the topic of yoga, Mr P had a yoga certificate under his belt. The Yoga Shiromani certificate gave him the eligibility to teach yoga.  After obtaining the qualification, Mr P practised yoga once in a while whenever he noticed that his waist line was expanding much faster than the progression of his spirit. The Asana that Mr P liked best was Shavasana or the corpse posture, where one lies flat on the back with arms and legs stretched and relaxing with the eyes closed. But mat time often became nap time for Mr P. He would wake up finally and look at his watch to see that he had spent at least two hours doing yoga… But the girth of his waist never seemed to decrease!

When he thought about it more, P realised that perhaps he would be able to do more active yoga if he did it in a group rather than all alone by himself. P then hit on the brilliant idea of starting a yoga class. He believed that if he taught yoga, he would be doing all the postures with the students rather than snoozing off. So Mr P spread the word around and soon had a class started. There were five students on the first day. Mr P started with his favorite posture – the Shavasana. He demonstrated it for his students.

Lying flat on his back on the yoga mat spread on the floor he began with “Relax your toes.”

More than any yoga stretches, what Mr P was really good at stretching, was the word “relax“. He felt that stretching it out helped people unwind more.

So he said “Relaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaax your toes!”

“Relaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaax your feet,” came after a long pause.

“Relaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaax your thighs” followed after awhile.

Relaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaxing the stomach, chest, hands, neck and so on he went upwards, slowly, in a gentle, sombre voice……

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

When finally Mr P opened his eyes, he saw that his students were sitting up politely waiting for him to wake up. Someone even commented on Mr P’s noisy snoring.

 

In the next class as well, Mr P started with his favourite Shavasana posture. Relaxing, he slept off as usual because …… he was all by himself on the yoga mat once again!

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