Mumbai Marathon with the kids

I wanted to participate in the Mumbai Marathon ever since I heard about it. After many years of failing to register on time, I finally get my chance to run for Teach for India. I figured this would be a good way to motivate me to keep up my fitness levels which have plunged since joining the fellowship.

In class we have been bugging the students to work harder and set goals for themselves. Giving in to popular belief that modeling teaches best, I tried and modeled it to them. I told them what a marathon is. I told them that I am going to take part in the Mumbai Marathon. They have their goals, I have mine. Mine is to run 21km  in January. (Yeah, it's the half marathon. The 42km were too daunting.) Since I live close to the community, the park where I run is pretty accessible to the kids. They play cricket close by. I suggested that they could come to the ground on Sunday mornings and watch Bhaiya run. I thought it'll build their math skills as well. Sounds good so far.

What I haven't foreseen - calls on Saturday evening going like this -
"Bhaiyya, what time are you going to run tomorrow morning?"
(See how there's no question asking if I am running. That's assumed.)
"Err..."
(I was about to go and party with my friends and hence chances of me running in the morning are pretty slim.) 
"I'll be there at 7am kid. That's pretty early for you right?"
"No Bhaiyya. I'll come. You'll come no?"
Deepest of sighs. "Yes kid. I'll see you at 7am."
(Left party early to go home and sleep thinking I'll be lucky to have an actual social life between these 115 troublemakers)

Lack of social life aside, it's been fun. The first time, I thought that we should measure the ground to get an estimate of how much I am running. I got a skipping rope and we measured that with a measuring tape. Then we went around the park holding the skipping rope. 15 minutes, numerous strange looks (who cares?), few additions and multiplications later we decided that the running track was around 400m. One elderly gentleman actually asked us about the result at the end of this. Turns out he had overseen paving of the track. However, he claimed that it was around 650m. I didn't know what to say. We were pretty sure that our process had been correct. Also, I knew that I had not been running 10 rounds of a 650m long ground in 20 minutes. We left it at that.

Normally, kids see me running and they run with me. Being kids, they find it hard to understand why I am not running at full steam so they go up ahead. Then they run of breath and take a break. Not Abhishek. A hyperactive kid, he started running with me at the start of my run and went on to run more than 5km with me. I was amazed. I had been concerned if kids should be running that much but he managed to make it through. He told me that his legs ached afterward and I told him to take it slowly next time.

I have also been coaching kids kho-kho, dodgeball and running for the upcoming sports day. Apart from practice sessions after school, we also practice in the evenings at the park. Some people watch us play. One old gentlemen offered to speak to the park authorities and get proper markings done for kho-kho practice. Might even get a net for volleyball. If it does happen, it'll be great for the kids.

P.S - I am running the marathon for the selfish reason of increasing fitness but I am also running it for Teach for India and for my kids. Do support my fundraising for the same.

Rollercoaster

Occasionally, we must keep doing things like this to reaffirm our belief in the awesomeness of our lives. - I say to Siddhesh sitting along the banks of Ganga after an exhilarating day.  'Rollercoaster' is the name of one of the rapids in Ganga. Other names include 'Sweet Sixteen' and 'Double Trouble'. We went through all :)

There were 7 of us there. After our first 3 eventful, transformational and intense months with our bunch of kids Suvidhi, Jessica, Anushka, Siddhesh and I really needed this break and we were out there in Rishikesh.

We camped along the beachy bank of Ganga. Toilets were a decent trek away and the urge was resisted till it was possible.
Tents, beds, beach volleyball and pretty good food - yes.
Sunshine - Err... Turns out that we were on the wrong side of the river. Camp 'Aayesha' opposite us was pretty sunny all the time. Stupid camp 'Aayesha'! Humph.

Rafting was an experience in itself. Tumultuous rapids and freezing waves hitting you in the face. The chance to lean over in the front and look ahead at the next oncoming wave was super.  We overcame grade I, II and III rapids. Then we did the 'Body Surf' which is the act of jumping out of the raft into the river.
Jumping into the icy water and floating around - fun.
Frozen feet, bruised fingers because of holding on to the rope on the raft - not so much.

Our rafting came to an end and we parked ourselves near the site of the 'Cliffjump' - jumping off a 20 foot cliff into the river. There was a maggiwala  there.
The sight of maggi at the end of the rafting session - mouthwatering.
Realizing that we don't have the money to pay - not the greatest feeling.

On seeing people jump, my new-experience-seeking-mind thought (as usual) - let's do this! 

The desire to jump of the 20 foot cliff into the cold water - adventurous. 

Freaking out (as usual) on reaching the top and looking downward - not so much. 

However, I did jump, primarily because of the organizer asking me to hurry up as there was a queue behind.  Split second after jumping I was - "Aaaaaaaaagghhhhhhhhh. Why in the world did I do this?" I was scared. I am sure my internal organs were not in their right place. Then I hit water. Definitely wasn't the most graceful jump or impact. 

All 7 of us jumped. Jessica overcame her fear of heights and jumped twice. The image of Anushka flying in space as she jumped (pushed actually) will never be forgotten. Neither will her swollen face.

Other assorted events that made up the thalo
Overhearing creepy sardarji's incessant phone conversation with his girlfriend - Amusing.
Watching him pose for (supposed) Kingfisher calender - not so much.

Chatting out in the cold with Siddesh and Suvidhi late into the night - Great.
Creepy, tip-desiring caretaker following us in the night - not so much.

The next morning, we decided to use the local transport to reach the bus stand.
Hitching a ride in the back of a truck - perfect way to sign off the adventure trip (or so it seemed).
The noise, jolts and bumps - could have been done without :)

Banal Indian cricket fan's retort to F-Aakar Patel

A friend was kind enough to lead me to this unbelievably racist and ignorant article by Aakar Patel. It seems clear that Mr.Patel is not an ardent follower of the game but seeks to denigrate only Indians who are.

Mr. Patel seems to have a problem with people being loud and passionate about sports in general, as anyone who doesn't really follow/care about sports will, and he has masked that issue with racist, rude and incorrect writing. His astounding lack of logic and inaccuracy commences from the first paragraph itself.

“It is thought that India loves cricket. This is incorrect. India loves India. Cricket gives us the opportunity to express this affection. The local cricket match in India is unattended. Even World Cup matches featuring two other sides will be played without spectators, no matter what the calibre of the players.”

As I would like to inform Mr. Patel, India loves cricket. Period. Like any other sport in the world, people usually support their home teams and back them to win. Would Indians watch a match that features India more than a match without them – yes of course. It is quite natural. Is Mr.Patel arguing that fans should watch all matches with equal, unbiased passion and interest irrespective of their home team playing? Did the England-Ireland contest hold only meaning because it was a cricket contest? Was it not watched by an almost full stadium in Bangalore? World cup matches featuring non-host nations have the most audience in the sub-continent and especially India and Bangladesh, which is why the ICC was rubbing its hands in glee at the prospect of hosting a match in the subcontinent. ICC is not worried about the lack of audience in such cases which Mr.Patel should have known if he would have cared to research his article even a little bit. In this world cup, all matches in Bangladesh were watched by a huge audience which is what the ICC wants and is unable to get when it hosts matches at other parts of the world. And if only cricket with the Indian team was followed, IPL wouldn’t have come into existence and neither would have channels like Star cricket and Neo cricket made a living as they feature discussions, analysis and videos of non-Indian teams playing.

Now, Mr.Patel moves onto racism and elitism which I can only classify as wish-I-was-white- because-I-am-so-refined syndrome.
“Indian spectators express themselves physically, through dancing, screaming and jumping about. This is done communally, in groups often including middle-aged men. It is done emotionally, with strong facial expression….. We behave like a WWF audience….
In European nations (I mean race, not geography and so: England, Australia, South Africa, New Zealand), spectator behaviour is more individual. Where communication is visual, it is not through facial expression, but fancy dress.
Instead of screaming, expression is through the written word: banners.”

Apparently, Mr. Patel has never cared enough about sport to invest any time on it but jumps hastily to conclusions. Article is filled with a sense of superiority of Europeans (as a race) over us uncouth Indians. I would suggest that he should go and watch a game that Europeans are really passionate about as a nation, namely football and rugby for South Africa and New Zealand. Maybe he is unable to hear and see the football fans in the world cup, screaming, running around, dancing with joy or maybe he thinks of it as – Ohh the white man is doing it so it’s alright. Of course it is fine when English fans walk into the world cup with only their underwear made out of their flag and yell. Being blind to the costumes and dresses that are there throughout the stadium worn by Indian fans is also one of Mr.Patel’s traits.
Mr, Patel, your description of the clap-clap-clap at the Lord’s is 40 years ago when there was a huge sense of propriety among the British. This kind of behavior is not that prevalent now when people have become more expressive and free with their emotions. Yes, even at Lord’s. When neutral, restrained and not-so-invested people watch sports, clap-clap-clap is what they’ll do. When passionate, caring, hopeful, expressive people watch sports, they cheer and holler and express their approval. They are pumped up. In that age, most British parents would have clapped-clapped-clapped if their child would have won a major sports tournament. Parents nowadays pump their arms, cheer and express support more vocally. Some societies are more expressive and some aren’t. Do you also complain about the Caribbean music, drum roll and dancing prevalent in the West Indian stadiums? Clearly, clap-clap-clap is the only right way to express approval.

“In India, signs are held up which are either obvious or embarrassingly banal. A decade ago, they were also poorly spelled…. There is never real humor, which can only come when we are able to laugh at ourselves… a South African held up a large sheet on which she had scrawled “WAQAR THE SPRINGBOK FAQAR”. So clever, I remember it 18 years later. Indians write rubbish.”

I am sorry Mr.Patel that the majority of Indians have not had elite English education and do not live in rich-urban areas like Bandra where English speaking is the norm. People used to write in English earlier because they thought that was the only way that they could come on TV and the match broadcast was primarily conducted in English. Again, if you had cared to spend any time watching the match, you would have noticed some incredibly innovative banners ranging from “pyaar to hona hi tha” for India-Pakistan unity to mocking Sehwag’s milk drinking habits to Chappell’s finger incident to Ganguly’s doing a Salman at Lords. While I take away nothing from the humour in the Waqar comment, it may be that you giggled because you were like a 12 year old mills and boons reading girl who giggled uncontrollably on seeing a variation of omg! Fuck! But of course, since the white South African wrote it, it was funny because as you generalize so aptly – Indians write rubbish. Your writing is well on its way to giving weight to that statement, Mr.Patel.

“One unique thing is how Indian spectators are silent when the other team scores. On television it’s as if the screen has gone mute.”

Yes, Mr.Patel. Passionate fans all over the world rejoice when their team is not dominating. In football, the fans clap on having a goal scored against them, isn’t it?
While misbehavior, vandalism and attacking player’s houses is never correct or justifiable, emotions run high in sports and some people vent them out in the wrong way. Even in tennis, which arguably has the most dignified, refined audience in sports – players are booed off the courts. Gilles Simon was booed off recently because he had to walk out because of injury. Was the booing fair to him? No. However, fans and sports enthusiasts can be that way. If that is your complaint, then here is a very fine piece of writing that expresses that opinion.

“Usually, Indians are happy if their team wins the skirmish and loses the battle. This is because national honor is often safeguarded by the hero. The astute Ian Chappell noticed that Indians were content if Sachin Tendulkar scored his hundred even if India then lost. In Australia, this would never happen, he said, and it would be seen as defeat, which it is. Since his audience telegraphs this, the Indian cricketer plays for himself much more than players of other sides.”

Sigh. Where do I start Mr.Patel? Ian Chappell is a shrewd observer of the game, no doubt, but he is not correct always. He has also been known to make ignorant comments about people and societies he has little idea of. In 2007, he was of the opinion that Sachin was a man playing for his records and he should retire as he has nothing to contribute.
Recently, he called Afridi idiotic and crazy. His irritation at Afridi’s celebration was childish to say the least. All bowlers have their own narcissistic way of celebrating. Pakistan as a team looks for its leader to perform, garner attention and motivate them which might be unlike Australia but that is no reason to believe that the rest of the team dislikes it.
Mr.Patel, I recommend that you realize what Sachin means to India and why. There are multiple readings available on these topics which attribute it to his excellence, dedication, temperament and how he symbolizes the freeing of Indian economy in the 90s. I will try and explain this in simple words to you. When Sachin appeared on the scene, his batting was a blend of free-flowing aggression and sound technique. He took the attack to the bowlers. He represented courage and hope. There are numerous occasions when he tore apart the opposition while he was there only to be let down by an incompetent, spineless team of the 90s. He has won matches single-handedly for us - from Australia in Sharjah in 98 to Australia in Australia in 08. What does an Indian fan do when he sees Sachin fighting for the team and the rest of the team surrendering meekly? He takes consolation from the fact that even though the team disappointed, its cherished and beloved son did well. It happened so many times that it became a norm. There’s a reason why people switched off television sets once Sachin got out. Chappell is clearly unaware of such a feeling having played for a dominant, balanced Australian team. Lately, the team has become less dependent on Sachin though he is still a huge force. We obviously want an Indian victory. There was celebration over Indian victory in the quarter-final and the semi-final and not remorse over Sachin not getting his century. It is stupid to say that Indians don’t care about victory. However, the fans still support and care a lot for their Sachin – their hero, their child, their God.
Next, you speak on the issue of the Indian habit of littering, throwing things and our racist attitude towards black people. However, you can’t simply package it as the sole vice of the Indian cricket fan. It would have made sense if you addressed the issue on the whole. However, are you not aware that Indians hear racist remarks in other ‘white’ countries?

“Indian spectators are watched over, like inmates.”

Patel dear, there’s security in any sport stadium where passions run high. It is unfair to compare the stands in India with the stands in South Africa where not many people come to watch the match and a lot of people take it as a picnic and family’s day out. In football stadiums, there are stewards all around the stadium and bordering the stands. Any person misbehaving and throwing things is immediately caught, taken out and arrested. Sounds familiar? It happens in European countries too. You should read this about football hooliganism, this, this and this about misbehavior by fans.

“On all Indian grounds, a wire mesh now separates players… In Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, West Indies and England, this isn’t needed….The policing here is excessive, but necessary… I think a bit of racial profiling is fine, and we should be firm only with Indians.”

India has a lot more people watching the match, something that I would expect him to be aware of. India also suffers from constant terrorism threat which makes the security necessary. The attempt at mock racism to make a point is just sad.
Thereafter, Mr.Patel rants on and on about the art of commentary and how Indians only do it the wrong way. Most of his statements are elitist, racist and drawn from an ignorant upper class perspective. First of all, Mr.Patel, there are not too many Indian players who are that comfortable with English to make it as a commentator. If Kapil Dev could, I think he would have been very original and bold in his views. The wise Ian Chappell has had to eat his words many a times and in a country where public figures learn to be diplomatic, especially in the past, Gavaskar and Shastri choose the safe route. Srinath makes some very interesting points and so does Sivaramakrishnan. Sidhu is made fun of everywhere but he is entertaining sometimes. To question Harsha Bhogle’s insight of the game just proves how invested you are in the game. First of all, he is a host and he writes some very insightful and wise articles. You could do with reading through some of them on cricinfo – a place where there are dignified, knowledgeable experts expressing their opinion. You choose to simply state that restrained, un-expressive behaviour and commentary is correct. Commentators also try and capture the emotions of the crowd, bring excitement and their own flavour into the game. Ever seen the commentary during Formula one or Football matches?

Then there’s a long rant on about how India has ruined cricket for everyone by excessive advertising. It’s the advertisers cashing in on the passions of the Indians, Mr. Patel – not the Indian cricket fan. Would he not like if there were no ad-breaks in between the overs? Yes, he would. He wouldn’t care if the hoardings were plain and without advertisements. Majority of these advertisements are by multi-national corporations run by white-people whose elegance and viewpoints you completely endorse. There is less advertising in English matches because they don’t have that big an audience for it.

Patel also laments that he is Indian because abroad “there is the restrained commentary, the women in bikinis (unthinkable in Delhi), the glasses of cold beer (unthinkable in Ahmedabad). Relaxed bodies on sloping green knolls. No danger of such small rewards of civilization ever reaching our shores, but at least we have Sachin.”

I am really sorry that you have to go through the despicable fact of being an Indian. I am sorry that you live in a country where people choose to express their love and affection freely, without restraint. I am sorry that you were born in a conservative nation where women do not wear bikinis and you are forced to watch Baywatch and midnight FTV to get your jollies. I am sorry that drinking is considered a vice in our society still and is banned in public places. I am sorry that we are just so many people brimming with passion about a lot of things including cricket and in an attempt to give opportunity to a lot of people, we have not given you a chance to lounge and relax around the stadium. I am sorry that our trains are so crowded and streets jammed. I am sorry that you are Indian when you would much rather be a ‘civilized’ European.

However, I am NOT sorry about being Indian and passionately supporting my team.
As Kumar Sangakkara, the Sri Lankan captain spells it out before the big final:

the subcontinent, and the teams that represent it, is the "best place" to play cricket. "No other place can match the buzz, the hype, the excitement around the game. When you play a tournament of this magnitude here, it kind of lifts the entire occasion, makes that occasion a lot more glorious."

Now I need to stop reading a paper like livemint and gear up for the big final where I will cheer every Indian run and every Sri Lankan wicket. I will shout, swear and express my support for my team and enjoy Shastri speaking his clichés when our cherished son Sachin returns to fulfil his ambition, his dream.

*Update 1* India has won! And this is how we celebrate. Hee YAAA! Happiness. Kohli made the statement of the day :)

*Update 2* Some links have been added in the blog which Patel dear should read. His beloved European race indulging in 'unclassy' behavior. This Wikipedia article gives a pretty good picture. Some statements from the article -
...football and violence could be arbitrarily traced back to at least the 14th century in England.
Football hooliganism in Belgium is a common problem.
Football hooliganism in Bosnia and Herzegovina is a big problem....Riots often happen after the games and in restaurants, bars, etc.
Football Hooliganism in Bulgaria is fairly typical of everyday life for the public. In Bulgaria fights happen regularly on match days, sometimes even on the field as well as off it.
Football hooliganism in Croatia has seen riots over inter-ethnic resentments and the politics...
Football hooliganism in France is rooted in social conflict and racism....Violent fights and post-game riots including car burning, and store windows smashing...fan was shot and killed by police...two Arab youths were punched and kicked by white fans...more and more banning of violent fans from stadiums.
...German football fans fought with police and rival fans at a friendly match...damaging cars and shops, and shouting racist slogans...The police detained over 300 people...a task force was established to deal with violence and racism in German football stadiums.
Greece, Italy, Netherlands, Poland, Russia, Portugal, Serbia, Sweden, Spain, Switzerland, Turkey, England and many others follow.

Indian Cricket fans still banal and uncouth, Patel dear?

Fading into history...

Ganguly announces his retirement. A really nice post evoked nostalgic memories.
Memories of the one night in July 2002 in Dehradun when a young 14 year old sat glued to his television set cheering his team in the final. After a disappointing bowling performance, he is a bit subdued as his team is left chasing a mammoth score. However, the eternal optimist in him doesn't die and his faith in the batting line up of his team has not wavered. He lives with his Grandparents and mother and the norm is to sleep early. They tell him to go to sleep. It's dark outside and he has school tomorrow. But how can he miss India's batting. After all, it's the FINAL. It doesn't matter to him that the chase is humongous. It doesn't matter if the team has a reputation for being bad chasers. It doesn't matter if the match is happening in the Mecca of cricket, in a foreign land - a fact that already puts India at a disadvantage considering it's poor track record abroad. It doesn't matter if the team is also renowned for 'choking' in the finals. There is still hope.
It must have been with more than just hope that the Captain of the Indian Team, Sourav Ganguly, addressed his team. It must have been Belief. Belief that refused to take into consideration that the odds were against his team. Belief that they could chase down the target and light up the faces of millions of 14 year olds who were stuck to their television - hoping. I don't know what he said to his team that day but it seems that a couple of youngsters shared his belief.
The chase begun and what a night it turned it out to be!!
The thread of hope turned into a strong rope with the amazing start given. His eyes lit up and his belief grew strong. Dramatic turn of events and the rope was cut into a single frayed thread. All hope was dangling by that thread. The lights in the house were out. Yet the 14 year old sat faithfully in front of his television. His optimism was diminished, his mind was troubled at the thought of yet another final's defeat, every fibre of his body said "Go to sleep.. It's gone". His mother echoed the same thought from her room. But some force refused to let go. He continued to watch hoping against hope. The task was getting more impossible by the second.
Hold on. Wait a minute, tide was turning. Two young men were turning it on at the crease. His brow cleared a little. An occasional smile flickered across his lips. His heart started beating louder. Was it possible? Even after so much had gone wrong, can the match be won. Can everything be good again. Every ball was a prayer. Gasps escaped his throat involuntarily. He was as much part of the match as the players. Sweat creased his brow. But he didn't move an inch. The desire to itch his back was great but if he moved, the dream might end - such was his superstition and the amount of sacrifice that he was willing to make for his team.
Match neared it's end. His heart was beating frantically now. His movements were animated. He was thinking- We could win. The desire was beyond imaginable levels. The rest as they is history. As Kaif scrambled for the winning run, I leaped up with joy and a roaring whoop. So did millions of others across the world. Ganguly was there in the stadium topless and vociferously mouthing those words that I had recently come to use. Just to be a part of that moment bad-mouthing the English was a dream. A dream I was part of. A dream that was made sweeter by Ganguly's antics. A memory to remember.
GreatBong puts it wonderfully well. A few snippets I found lovely.

..After all, once “there is nothing left to try, there is no greater power than the power of goodbye”
It is strange this strong emotional connect we feel with sportsmen, a bond even stronger for those sportsmen you grew up with. he ones for whom you put down your books, against your better judgment, the night before the exam. The ones for whom you stayed up all night, even knowing about the early train that needs catching. The ones whom you argued for (and against) with your friends over a cup of tea on rainy afternoons.
He goes on sentimentally about his beloved sportsperson and his memories. Memories which are vividly etched even in our memory. Memories of his brilliance

..And most importantly memories of Sourav walking the earth with barely controlled aggression—the kind that made you stand up from your sofa and shout “Give it to those bastards”. Of never backing down from a fight. Of taking off his shirt in the holiest of holies, giving a metaphorical middle-finger salute to the Old Boys of Lords. Of uniting a team torn asunder by match-fixing and welding them into a team that, win or lose, would never give up.

If there is one enduring legacy of Dada, it is that he taught an almost perennially defeatist Indian cricket team “to believe” (For those who have sat through wimpy, gutless Indian performances through the 80s will appreciate even more the truth of this statement). ...
Why just the Indian cricket team? Putting on my pop sociologist cap, let me say that Sourav’s place in history, more than as a cricketer, is because he embodied the “in your face” spirit of the economically resurgent nation of the 1990s-2000s— a young nation eager to throw off the Gandhian ideal of turning the other cheek, a confident nation no longer ashamed to pay back the opposition in its own currency.

Sex in Olympics

Recently I came across this very interesting and enlightening article by Matthew Syed in The Times through Mr.Amit Verma's India Uncut blog.
I am putting up some extracts here.

I am often asked if the Olympic village - the vast restaurant and housing conglomeration that hosts the world's top athletes for the duration of the Games - is the sex-fest it is cracked up to be. My answer is always the same: too right it is....
There are the gorgeous hostesses - there to assist the athletes - in their bright yellow shirts and black skirts; there are the indigenous lovelies who came to watch the competitions. And then there are the female athletes - literally thousands of them - strutting, shimmying, sashaying and jogging around the village, clad in Lycra and exposing yard upon yard of shiny, toned, rippling and unimaginably exotic flesh. Women from all the countries of the world: muscular, virile, athletic and oozing oestrogen.
It was not just the guys. The women, too, seemed in thrall to their hormones, throwing around daring glances and dynamite smiles like confetti. ... the mutual longing so evident it was almost comical. It was an effort of will to keep everything in check until competition had finished. But, once we were eliminated from our respective competitions, we lunged at each other like suicidal fencers.
..A British runner said: “The swimmers finished earlier in the week and it was like there was an eruption.” For some reason the International Olympic Committee insists on bunching the swimming events towards the beginning of the Games with the inevitable consequence that the aquatics folk get going earlier - sexually I mean - than everyone else.
There is a famous story from Seoul in 1988 that there were so many used condoms on the roof terrace of the British team's residential block the night after the swimming concluded that the British Olympic Association sent out an edict banning outdoor sex. Here in Beijing, organizers have realized that such prohibitions are about as useful as banning breathing and have, instead, handed out thousands of free condoms to the athletes. If you can't stop 'em, at least make it safe.....
I am not implying, for one moment, that every athlete in Beijing is at it. Just that 99 per cent of them are.

Now comes something that is not really a surprise but a point that makes you ponder

..however, it is worth noting an intriguing dichotomy between the sexes in respect of all this coupling. The chaps who win gold medals - even those as geeky as Michael Phelps - are the principal objects of desire for many female athletes. There is something about sporting success that makes a certain type of woman go crazy....
An Olympic gold medal is not merely a route to fame and fortune; it is also a surefire ticket to writhe.
But - and this is the thing - success does not work both ways. Gold-medal winning female athletes are not looked upon by male athletes with any more desire than those who flunked out in the first round. It is sometimes even considered a defect, as if there is something downright unfeminine about all that striving, fist pumping and incontinent sweating. Sport, in this respect, is a reflection of wider society, where male success is a universal desirable whereas female success is sexually ambiguous.

Read the rest of you so desire. Pretty informative, I must say. This makes me ponder- why was Abhinav Bindra in such a hurry to return home!! No wonder, 4 of our hockey coaches made it to Beijing, even though our team failed to even qualify. Now, let's not judge them- they are supposed to see, observe and learn moves and play ball. Phelps made 5 new world records and Bolt 3 in this olympics for being the quickest in their respective fields. Hopefully, Phelps and Bolt do not do everything at that speed. :P
P.S::: A lot of people might ask- how to gain access to the Olympic village??
Sad news people, only representatives of the country - by that I mean only the participating athletes and coaches are allowed. Time to bring out those 'forgotten' running shoes I say.

Bolt and relay

Bolt won his third gold of the Beijing Olympics in 4x100m relay race, thus helping in setting up the 3rd world record in sprint event. The quartet of Asafa Powell, Michael Frater, Nesta Carter and Usain Bolt completed the race in 37.10 seconds, as compared to 37.40s set earlier by the US.
I really don't know how the relay timings work and the technicalities that go into increasing speed, but I can straightway see the average time of a single partner to be 9.27s, surpassing the individual 100m WR of 9.69 by Bolt himself by a long distance. It means at least a couple of sprinters must have surpassed the WR easily.
It's amazing to see that the individual times are not mentioned in the relay races. For me, they epitomize the feeling of team spirit. You really have to marvel at the event which brings together the fastest racers of a country, each having to give their absolute best to bring home the Medal. One error, one off day and it's all gone.
The platform which brings together Asafa Powell and Usain Bolt to give their best for each other and their country must have inspire some awe. The two rivals supporting each other and wishing well for the other is magnificent. Let us savor this feeling of team spirit and toast to it.