Three Mistakes Of My Life Part 21

'Will you get me something from Australia?'

'Ask your brother, he will get you whatever you want.' I restacked the books.

No way would I spend more cash than I needed to.

'Anyway, we are on a tight budget,' I clarified. She nodded as if she understood.

'So, will you miss me?' I continued to look down.

'You have a budget for how much you can miss people, too?' she asked.

'Do your sums, Vidya. Focus,' I said and left.

'You guys tired or wanna hit practice?' were Fred's first words of welcome at the airport.

'Where is my bed?' I wanted to ask.

We had taken an overnight train from Ahmedabad to Mumbai, waited six more hours to board a fourteen-hour flight to Sydney via Singapore. Thirty hours of travel in cramped environments and I wanted to kill myself with sleep.

'Oh, so we made it in time for practice?' Ish looked out at the streets of Sydney.

At 7 a.m. in the morning, joggers clogged the pavements. Picture-postcard coffee shops advertised delicious m.u.f.fins.

I patted the khakras in my bag. We couldn't afford any cakes In this town.

'I go to the academy ground in the morning,' Fred said as he stepped on the gas. 'I've put you up in a hostel. Take a nap first I'd say. Philip will pick you up for the evening practice.'

? Guys, this is Ali. He is a batsman,' Fred said to the other players who came for practice. Apart from Philip, there was a beefy guy called Peter and a spectacled spinner called Steve. I forgot the other names instantly.

Fred screamed, 'Five rounds everyone. Close to the boundary line, no short- cuts.'

The first two hours of our Australian practice was the practice of death. Five rounds of the academy grounds equaled twenty rounds of Nana Park and fifty rounds of the bank's courtyard. After the run, we did innumerable sit-ups, push- ups and crunches. Three personal trainers supervised five students each. The first lime I groaned, one came running to me. The next time he said, 'Cut the drama, mate.'

We came to the pitch after endurance training. I told them I was no player, but I had to field anyway.

'Here, bowl,' Fred tossed the ball to Ali.

'He doesn't really bowl,' Ish said.

'I know, give it a burl,' Fred clapped his hands.

Philip took his fielding place at the boundary near me.

'What's burl?' I asked him.

'Aussie slang, mate,' Philip laughed, it means give it a try.'

Ish offered to be the wicket keeper, but Fred told him to stay at the slip instead. Ali's bowling was no match for these state level players. Roger slammed the ball towards the boundary several times. Once the ball came between Philip and me, and we had a tough time catching it.

'Rattle your dags, mate,' another fielder shouted at me. No one had to translate 'hurry up' to me.

I threw the ball back. What was I doing in the middle of this Australian ground?

As the day progressed, so did my Aussie vocabulary. 'Onya' was short for 'good on you', which meant well done. An easy ball was a 'piece of p.i.s.s', while a good one 'packed a wallop'. The mosquitoes were 'mozzies', and soft drinks 'coldies'.

When I took a loo break, Philip broke into some more slang. 'You got to siphon the python, is it?'

It started to get dark.

'Pack-up time,' announced Fred though Ali hadn't batted yet.

Fred raised his eyebrows at a glum Ish in the locker room.

I am fine,' said Ish. Omi and Ali were taking a walk outside the dub.

'Fair d.i.n.k.u.m?'

Ish looked up from his wooden stool.

'He is asking if you are telling the truth,' I showed off my newfound linguistic skills.

'When is practice tomorrow, Fred, in English if you can,' Ish said.

'You a whinger?' Fred said. 'Whinge means...,' I said as Ish interrupted me.

I know what whinge means, can someone please explain the point of calling a batsman from thousands of miles away and not making him bat?'

Fred smiled, 'Oh, you wanted your little discovery to bat. What for? So he can hit a few sixes. You want the kid to be a show-off from day one?'

That's not what I...' 'Mate, I see a lot of talent. Every AIS scholarship kid has tickets on himself. If I don't break their pride, they will stay hoons for the rest of their life. Sportsmen aren't movie stars, mate. Even though your country treats them like that.'

'But Fred...'

'You Indians have good talent, but the training - trust me on that mate.'

'We are only here for a week,' Ish sounded helpless. 'I'll make the week productive. But today's lesson was important. If he isn't humble, he won't last long,' Fred said, then looked at his watch. 'Promised the missus some time. I'm off like a bride's nightie.'

'Cheers!' everyone cried. We clanged our dark brown bottles of x.x.xX beer, also known as 'fourex' stubbies. 'Hi!' our server Hazel, too hot to be a waitress, hugged Fred. 'Oooh...,' Fred's students egged him on after she left. 'No way, mate. The missus won't tolerate me making eyes at anyone else,' Fred said. 'But you guys are single. You must have pretty girls all over you in India.' Everyone looked at us.

'We don't have girlfriends,' Omi said.

'Why not? Indian women are hot,' said Michael, rolling his 'Too busy with work,' I said.

'Busy? Never heard a bloke too busy to root, mate,' Roger said.

Everyone laughed. Root meant, well, whatever. 'Check those honeys out,'

Michael said as four girls walked in.

"The one in brown, she's ain't bad,' Michael said. 'NCR 5.'

'NCR 10,' Roger said.

'And the blue one?' Philip said.

'She's NCR 0. Bring it on, man,' Roger said. Everyone laughed.

'What's NCR?' I asked as there was a whiff of maths in the air.

'NCR is Number of Cans Required. The amount of beer yoi need to drink to want to have s.e.x with a girl,' Fred said.

'Michael dated an ugly b.i.t.c.h once. He admits it, NCR 40 Roger said. Everyone roared with laughter.

'Here you go, hungry boys,' Hazel said in a flirtatious tone she pa.s.sed the plates.

The Australians mainly ate meat dishes. We had stuck to a pizza as it was the only recognisable choice.

'You got to do more protein,' Michael said, his biceps flexing, as he ate.

Omi said, I drink two litres of milk everyday.'

Ish sat next to Fred. I could not hear their conversation However, I saw Ish's frequent nods. I left the Aussie rooting stories and moved to Ish.

'If you're the bowler and you've got the ball in your hand, you're controlling the game. You've got to make sure the batsman know who's the boss,' Fred was saying. 'Same for Ali. He doesn't just need to hit shots, he needs to show the other team who is the boss.' 'Right,' Ish said.

My players will eventually figure out new ways to bowl to Ali. A determined mind can counter a gift. A champion has both.' Ish nodded.

Hi Govind!' Fred had spotted me. 'Don't want rooting tips? We are just doing boring coach talk.' Ish's chest swelled with pride as Fred had called him equal in role.

I remembered something. 'You mentioned a scholarship yesterday. What's that? In fact, how does the whole sports thing work in Australia.'

'You want to know why Australia always wins?'

it doesn't always win,' Ish said.

'Not always, thank goodness. We love to dominate opponents, hut also love a fight. When there's a challenge, it brings out the best.'

'Yeah, even if not every time, Australia does win a lot. Every Olympics, there is pile of medals for Australia. In cricket, the domination continues. How come, Fred?' 1 said.

'Plenty of reasons, mate. But it wasn't always like this.' Fred sipped his sparkling water, in fact, in the 1976 Olympic games in Montreal, Australia didn't win a single medal.' 'But you guys did well last year,' Ish said. 'Yes, in Sydney 2000. Australia won 56 medals, only after USA, Russia and China. All these countries have ten times as many people.' He paused. 'Aussies saw the Montreal fiasco as a national shame. So the government set up the Australian Inst.i.tute of Sports or the AIS and initiated the world's best scholarship programme.' Fred finished his gla.s.s of water and continued: 'And today the AIS has hundreds of staff - coaches, doctors and physios. They get two hundred million dollars of funding and have excellent facilities. And at the heart of it all, they offer seven hundred scholarships a year.' Fred pushed the spaghetti plate towards me.

I listened as I struggled with the ribbon-like pasta. I calculated how seven hundred scholarships for twenty million people would equate to for India. That was the equivalent of thirty-five thousad sports scholarships a year for India to match the ratio.

'What's the scholarship? Money?' Ish wanted to know.

'Not just money, mate. It is full on. Expert coaching accommodation, travel to tournaments, sports science, medicine -you name it. And the best part is to be part of that communit where everyone has a singular commitment to their sport. I can't describe that feeling,' Fred said, as his eyes lit up.

'I know the feeling,' Ish said. Even though Ish's eyes aren't blue. they shone as bright.

The waiters cleared our plates as we finished our food.

'Any famous players from this scholarship programme?'

'Heaps. Michael Bevan, Adam Gilchrist, Justin Langer, Damien Martyn, Glenn McGrath, Ricky Ponting, Andrew Symonds, Shane Warne...'

'What are you talking about? These are all cricketing legends Ish said.

'Legends - that's a good word,' Fred laughed. 'Hope I get there someday.'

'You have a scholarship, too?' I said. Fred nodded.

'You are already a legend, Fred,' Ish said. 'Nah, I'm starting out. And let me tell you boys, the whole legend bit is far-fetched. You take a bit of talent and mould it properly, and good stuff happens. In that sense, Australia can create legends.'

'And we can't,' Ish asked.

'Well you could, though right now you rely on talent more than training. You have a big population, a tiny number of them are born excellent. Like Tendulkar, or maybe like Ali.' 'Yeah, but,' Ish boxed his left palm with his right, 'imagine what would happen if we could have this kind of training in India.'

'Cricket would be finished. India would dominate and teams like us would be nowhere. At least for now we can call ourselves "legend".' Fred hooked his fingers around the last word.

Ali did bat the following days. Every bowler went through the shock of being slammed for sixes. However, Ali kept the s...o...b..z low and played a steady game.

He crossed fifty runs in a couple of innings. On Friday morning Ali hit the ball for a defensive shot. The ball didn't go far. Ali decided to stay at the crease.

'Run, it is a single,' Ish urged from the boundary line.

'Run Ali,' Ish said again. Ali looked surprised at the instruction hut ran.

'Faster,' Ish screamed, 'don't sleep.'

Ali ran faster as the fielder returned the ball to the bowler.

'Jump,' Ish said. Ali dived. He made the crease but fell with his full body weight coming down on his left ankle. As everyone rushed towards him, he lay on the ground clenching his teeth and holding back tears.

'Oh, get up. No time for drama,' Ish said.

'Easy, mate,' Fred said to Ish and signalled for a physio. Within minutes, a paramedic arrived and placed an ice pack on Ali's swollen ankle.

'Lucky it is not a fracture or dislocation. Looks like a ligament got some wear, mate,' the physio said, applying painkillers and wrapping a crepe bandage. Ali leaned on the physio as he tried to hobble. 'Give the game a rest for two days.

You'll be fine.'

'Don't worry, he'll play in a few hours,' Ish said with a sheepish expression.

Guilt bubbled up his eyes.