I Love Abuse…It’s the Sign of the Times January 8, 2008Posted by astralwicks in Abuse, Andrew Symonds, Australia, Blogging, Cricket, Ernest Hemingway, Harbhajan Singh, india, Politics, Racial Abuse, Ricky Ponting, Seven, Slur, Sports, Writing.
Tags: BCCI, cricketing relations, Sydney Test Match
Mr. Ponting is an honest man. He is being uneccesarily targeted by the Indian team. What are a couple of bad umpiring decisions and few lies by the Australian cricketers. Come on, grow up to the real world.
As for Mr. Ponting, he is the perfect role model for all kids, Australians or otherwise. Parents across continents should buy posters of Mr. Ponting and hang them on their walls. Pray to the lord of success to bless them…how to play hard and win at all costs. All this is not sarcasm.
Mr. Ponting after all is an honest man. He is after all a the national asset of Australia and of all ambitious people across the world. What is a little bit of abuse?
A little bit of abuse should be part of school curriculum in fact. Will toughen up kids who want to make a mark. A bit of verbal and in the coming days, physical also, is good. Makes you win. And that’s all that matters.
You have no option but to win.
So you think you can play?
Play like us, that is.
Can you abuse? Can you taunt? Can you ridicule? Can you rile? Can you irritate? Can you make me lose my focus? Can you make me lose concentration?
This is the way we play. Can you play like us? You can’t? No matter, we will still play the way we do. We are what we are. We will abuse your mother, father, your kids, your wife, your country, your honesty and integrity.
We will not stop at anything. We have to win because that’s all that matters. Who cares for the way you play. I don’t. I hae to defeat you. I have to rub your nose in the ground. I have to prove that I am superior to you. You are nobody. Your talent is irrelevant. Your skill is of no importance. I don’t clap when I see you doing good. I am not awe-struck when I see perfection at what you do.
I cringe. I hate myself when I see you succees. I loath the ground you walk on. How can you be better than me? How can I let you defeat me? Because my country will hate me. My fans will hate me. The Board will throw me out of the team. The advertising agencies will disappear. How can I not win everything I participate in?
My wife too shoos me away when I lose. She fails to understand that it’s just a game. My kids shoot me down with their toy guns when I don’t emerge victorious. Chants of sissy engulf me in the locker room if I am not like the others, shouting, cheering, inciting, cheating, lying. They will throw me out if I don’t become like them.
Success at all costs. The Australians are good at it. Do they have a nuclear arsenal also? They might just get riled and decide to bomb it because like Hemingway said ‘ the world is a fine place and worth fighting for’. The Australians too, like Morgan Freeman in 7, will most likely agree with the 2nd part, and kill everything in its wake.
That’s the sign of the times. It’s time Indians stop complaining and just play. Cheats will be seen as cheats, even by fans. And there will be a time for everything… a time for war and a time for peace, a time to win and a time to lose.