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A Very Human Successor To The God Of Indian Cricket

Cricket, they say, is a 'gentlemen's game'. Played by mortals. Hence, each time 'god' and his allies played against the mortals, they had a tendency to ignore a sledge. Walk away from a verbal contest. Be humble and gracious. And we all know that's not how mortals play cricket these days. Especially those Aussies. So the successor to 'god' had to be a human. An ambitious, arrogant, aggressive, sledging, tattooed human. And that's everything that Virat Kohli is, and a bit more.
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My Love Affair With The Melbourne Cricket Ground

The Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG), for me, is a sacred place. It's my boyhood cricketing dream. A solemn shrine for those smitten by a cricketing romance. The Colosseum of modern-day cricket. Australia is my adopted home now, and has been since I migrated to Melbourne from India in 1999. I did not move to Melbourne by design but for a cricket lover like me, destiny could not have dealt me a better hand.
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Why I'd Rather Watch Cricket On Mute

Cricket commentators manage to repeat the same overused phrases so many times during the course of a match, and with such great alacrity, that one wonders how many broken TVs (or heads) might have resulted were there no mute button. A part of the reason for this unending stream of inanity is the BCCI's stringent commentary guidelines...
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Why Cricket Is Getting Boring

I've been following cricket ever since I was a child and I love the game more than most. Yet in recent years, I find myself alternating between great interest in it to downright indifference. I am currently in the "who cares" phase and it has reached a point where I frankly couldn't be bothered to watch a single ball being bowled. So, why don't I give a hoot about any of it? I decided to do some introspection.

Bumping Into Adam Gilchrist

I looked up to re-check the status of my flight on the TV screen in front of me. The flight status still read "delayed". So I rapidly proceeded to get back to reading the magazine in my hands. As my eyes manoeuvred themselves back to the magazine, I registered a vaguely familiar face opposite me. So, I looked up again. This time with a jerk.