Boom with a view

After all, you represent the new India, an icon—so, just wanted to chat about a couple of things. 

Dear Jasprit

First of all congrats for Perth. It was a stunning victory bro. That first-day spell, when we were bundled out for 150. One can never write us off, when the ball is in your hand, spearheading our attack. Anyway, I was trying to get in touch, and sent your wife a message on Instagram. Guess she was busy. I wanted to send you a bunch of the Amul ads we’ve done on you, over the years. When you first hit the scene, when you got married, when you hurt your back—just on your overall all-round skill and killer instinct, makes the Amul girl very fond of you. After all, you represent the new India, an icon—so, just wanted to chat about a couple of things. 

I feel like I’m your protective gear... you’re my favorite Indian cricketer, so I wanna see you  get all that you deserve. See, it’s harder for bowlers to get that mad “pedestal-paparazzi-demi God thing” that Sachin had, Virat has. It makes no sense why batters get more praise than bowlers—but I’m sensing you’re moving into that stratosphere. As you destroy batting units from across the world, with your guile, your gangly walk, your toothy grin, your apparent goofiness, your genial nature, frankly your gollywog genius. To be able to purely get the eyeballs, on your game alone takes some doing (take that show pony, Hardik, has all those eyeballs, when he hardly has the ball in his hand). You have the respect of your peers, past players, fellow pacemen, the Poms, the Paks, the Aussies, the Black Caps, they’re comparing you to Malcolm Marshall. Jeez, you may actually end up as one of the all greats of all time, for your unplayability, your uniqueness.

I remember when we first saw you, ten years ago. John Wright discovered you for the Mumbai Indians, you looked scared, that round-arm action, unique, can look ugly, till it becomes a weapon of mass destruction. Who would have thought you’d end up where you have?

You’ve always been happy go luckyish, none of the alpha male nonsense of your colleagues, no strut, no swearing, no social media presence (just your wife admiring your butt), just good old fashioned damn good bowling—but occasionally as the inner hermit allows for the odd outer Hulk, as the friskey fidgety Fox Terrier that you are, shows the odd fang, especially when you were captain, it’s wonderful to see.

(I look forward to next March, when you reunite with your finest fast bowling partner yet, Trent Boult, for MI).

So here’s my thing. You’re maybe wondering why I’m writing this piece just now. Bro, we live in a toxic age, with social media, the anonymous have a megaphone, ecstasy devolves quite rapidly into expletives, we want to keep out “heroes” in check with our unpleasantness—and so while you go from strength to strength, the dark forces are rising, bad sportsmanship is rearing its ugly head, attempts to discredit you. As you step onto that final pedestal, the “c” word, he’s a chucker, that arm bends at the point of delivery, they want to discredit you… make you doubt yourself, diminish your accomplishments. I guess this is a warning, be careful dude.

Dear Jasprit, forget the faff, And keep that arm straight. As you keep the focus straight, you will end up being the greatest all format bowler of all time. All nice guys don’t finish last. 

Finally, how do I get those Amul topicals across to you?
 
Regards.

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at [email protected]

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