Dear Sri:
Despite being one of your ardent fans, I must say you had me clean bowled today, or almost so, with this post. I had to read it endlessly many times before I saw the importance of a silly three letter word "too". Indeed, had I not been far more careful than usual, neither my abdomen guard nor my helmet would have protected whatever they are supposed to protect. Besides, I had not come prepared to play cricket with you, for no one ever told me that I had a distinguished career lying ahead in that direction.
So, you almost did me in. To tell you frankly Sri, I wouldn't have slept well tonight, weighed down as I was by my complexes till a few minutes ago. Complexes arising from the fact that several people commented on the post with confidence, a confidence that I appeared to be lacking almost completely. I was reminded alas of the old Chinese proverb:
He who knows and knows he knows, he is a wise man, follow him.
He who knows and knows not he knows, he is asleep, awake him.
He who knows not and knows he knows not, he is a child, teach him.
He who knows not and knows not he knows not, he is a FOOL, shun him.
I saw only too clearly which of these four categories I obviously belonged to. Fortunately though, God cares for the weakest of his creations. So he finally focussed his flashlight on the
key to the puzzle that you had posed:
Quote:
I hope I have fully justified the cricketing clan taking a hundred years to realise that the head too is important! |
Till I noted that "t" word, I had been spinning.

What does this guy mean? Sure enough, Purohits' sons have turned into neuro-surgeons, but they gave up their chanting abilities in the process, didn't they? It appears to be an "either--or" kind of choice.
But do cricketers have that choice? I mean, can they afford to face a fiery Imran Khan with a well-protected head but a bare abdomen? You scared the hell out of me. I told you, didn't I, that I hadn't arrived here to play cricket even with you, leave alone Imran or the Rawalpindi Express? But after thinking about your thoughts for the billionth time I couldn't help asking myself what's this chap talking about?
He appears to be aiming at me with a cricket ball that's a 100 grams or whatever in weight. Now even if his bowling speed is around six inches per hour, then the momentum with which he'll hit me would be 100 times 6 inches per hour = 600 gram inches per hour !!!!!!!!! I dread, I shiver, I faint almost as I imagine the calamitous prospect of being hit by this world's slowest bowler.
Not a friendly gesture to say the least. Caesar like I exclaimed: Thou
too Brutus? And as soon as I uttered the magic three letter word "too", the truth dawned on me. Ah that was soothing indeed. The "too" that drew the decisive line between comprehension and total incomprehension. Thank the Lord that he showed me light. Or else I would've descended into a coma for the rest of eternity.
Man, you are a genius with words. Nay, a genius with precision. Just take the "too" out of the last sentence and see what remains! And the subtlety of the conclusion, the deep layers of meaning! But I must admit that I feel like accusing you of unfairness. I mean think of Subhash Gupte. He belonged to pre-headgear age didn't he? He didn't even wear the camouflaged Gavaskar cap. Gary Sobers? Hmmm... And then Don Bradman himself.
Did they or did they not appreciate the importance of the head
TOO?
You'd surely give them credit for having recognized the need for their heads as well as procreative abilities. No????
Now don't tell me I haven't understood a word of what you wrote. I will surely start weeping, seeing especially that everyone else on earth has figured out things so well.
Anyway, I tried. Drowning
All the best.
oj