Portrait of a Young Man as a Football Manager

Only after Football Manager 2011 have I even begun to comprehend the immense difficulties of managing a team. I'm quite sure the case is the same for any sort of management, but this job epitomizes leadership and genius. If the whole of our life was stuffed into 90 minutes of power-packed highlights, I'm sure it'd result in a game of football. Football after all is a reflection of life in the closest possible way.

Most of us have played various versions of PES and FIFA over the years and many of us consider ourselves tactical geniuses. Set a staggered 4-2-3-1, push your players up and play a short passing game and lo, you win the Champions League. Well, it would be that easy if everyone shared the exact same thinking-space like on your computer. Sadly, a game of football involves 11 different minds playing for your team. The probability that  any two of them independently have the same idea at any point of time is close to zilch. Well, that's where the manager comes in.

To impose your ideas on an entire squad is possibly the toughest task you can ask a man to do. Not only does he do that on the pitch, like begging the hot-headed Defender on a yellow-card not to throw himself into tackles, he needs to do it off the field as well. And that's something for which I've begun respecting AVB so much for. You would think it is impossible for a man of 33 who has never been a pro-footballer himself to handle legends of a club which has only recently tasted success. People like John Terry and Frank Lampard are probably as big as the club, and therein lies the problem.

While Sir Alex could threaten Ryan Giggs and Wayne Rooney with a good spanking now and then, and command awe and veneration from one and all with the simple question "Who's your daddy?", hardly any manager can claim to be the true daddy at Stamford Bridge. Thank you, Mr. Abrahamovich.

Surely, it couldn't have been easy at all for the manager of Manchester United in 1986, but he was given time... And time is the most precious commodity available to a manager of any sort. To cajole the Torreses into firing goals, to create legends like Leo Messi and to fill the CR7s with enough pride and vanity to etch them into footballing lore forever... all these require time. There is only one Mourinho - 2 Minute Success-Recipe - in this world and even he is to be tested over a long period of time. One could probably say that since The Special One was the closest anyone was to being daddy of a new Chelsea team in 2004 and a new Galacticos team in 2010 - hence, his jobs aren't the most difficult ones available.

I'm not taking anything away from TSO: it takes tremendous vision to see that Terry+Lampard+Drogba = GOOALLS; something Mancini is achieving through trial-and-error, buying everybody available in the market and taking United-want-aways. All I'm saying is that such success cannot live beyond the aforesaid manager's tenure. And the next guy in will almost certainly face the firing-squad. You can never change daddies overnight.

I'm writing this in the immediate aftermath of a 3-1 defeat at Old Trafford, one which has filled me with a new belief that AVB might be the man to change Stamford Bridge's destiny forever. Not often would I be in such high spirits after a loss but I feel this young man is a genius. The result could have been a lot different, and while we deserved no points from the game, the scoreline definitely doesn't say the whole story. 

One thing is apparent to me: this fellow AVB has, to use a euphemism, guts. But he'll need a lot more of that (those) to ensure that the legendary numbers eight and twenty-six come off the bench more often. The big man Drogba isn't going to be around forever either and he should be made to understand that. There's no point being a sentimental fool and having these fellows occupy space in a football pitch, hoping that one day they'll produce a glimpse of their glory days. I believe AVB is doing a great job by remaining in the good-books of men almost as old as himself - men who are more decorated than he is - while politely reminding them that they aren't as young as they used to be.

I just hope this fellow sticks around... For truly, the times, they are a-changin'!

Winter Rank

Christmas break is around the corner again. New year parties, albeit beguiling with great promise, as usual, will be missed out on, yet again, by us R-fools who, so desperately, rush back so as to save up on an extra-form and a few hundred bucks! I can almost see those stars and bells hung on every other household's front balcony. 2009 has behaved well and deserves a pat on the back. Holiday FB activity, as you normally expect, is on a high. Blogs are overflowing, again. Then what's different, one may ask. Well, a few things to say the least.

For starters, its been a while since we have managed to retain the lead on the top of the table at the break. My fingers are crossed. More importantly, I'm still stuck here in R, wondering when I'll get back home, reunited with Rasam, Dosais and Appalam. This winter has started off weirdly, to put things lightly. Nevertheless, Winter remains my favourite season of the year, ever since I was introduced to the concept two years ago. Here are five things which never change - things I'll always love about winter.

(1) The Fog: It delays flights, alright. But its one of the things I look forward to. The sheet of white takes me all the way back to my Scooby Doo days. At the stroke of half-beyond-six, bro, I and a handful of munchables used to plonk ourselves in front of the Tele singing for 'Scooby Dooby Doo - Where Are You?' There were times when Shaggy would take out a knife and cut a hole in the fog. The great mist takes me back to those days!

(2) The Girls: While 'Kingfisher's Swimsuit Model of the Year' contest will have you disagree strongly with my opinion, I remain constant. Winter is the best time for Girl-watching. The fairer gender turn all the more fair and the glowing cheeks make the wait worthwhile. Well, some might try chastising me with a reminder about the place we dwell in. Well, all observations are relative and after all, the multiplexes are just a bus-ride away. Yes, Girls definitely make Winter worthwhile.

(3) The Baths: These are privileges which come at a premium, few and far between, but remain one of the glorious aspects of Winter. While the icy air looms ominously as a powerful impediment, the hot steaming water transports you to warmer climes. You splash yourself and lo! - the perfect combination of Yin and Yang; much like fried ice-cream! The best part, however, remains the smoke emanating from the pores of your epidermis - when you resemble a sizzling brownie.

(4) The Coffee: Caffeine is a killer. While most people intoxicated by the roasted beans strongly detest Tea, or vice versa, my preferences aren't that strong. Nevertheless, I've never for once thought that the gentle leaves of the slopes could ever match the zing of the power-packed berries of the coffee shrubs. And come Winter, it's effect becomes all the more profound. I would bear sub-zero just for the coffee!

(5) The Sleep: While it would be sacrilegious and profane to speak (4) and (5) in the same breath, such are the funny ways of Father Frost. The weight of a heavy blanket, a broken alarm clock and a cunningly cold Sunday morning can combine in ways which would put every other pleasure to shame! The sweet arms of Morpheus are never this kind!

End

This is the end,

My only friend - The End.

The joy and elation of Eleventh and Twelfth seem far off and hazy now. Those were the days when people were actually overjoyed. Ecstatic as they were, celebrations were wild and varied (and weird) and complete. I saw people take immense pleasure in simply catching up with those lost hours with dear old Morpheus. I saw people play 'Condition Zero' without some twelve hours without break. And when I saw people running through the library (some sort of a victory lap) with the sole motive of disturbing others in the house of knowledge, I realized that I had seen everything! But those phantasmagorical (parrdon its frequent usage, Dela) times seem a distant history.

It seems to date back to as far as the day when a certain Chronotron came to my humble abode in Chennai asking for advice for filling his JEE form, as far back as the day we designed the first WONA teaser for the first yearites' recruitment, as far back as Thomso - when it was happening and maybe even the time when I had just joined the insti. Two years,I have spent here and it already feels a lifetime. R-Land feels too dear and I shall forever regret leaving it when my time comes. Why, I regret leaving it even now, even for these two months... though home seems to be an inviting prospective. Holidays may be fun but it is only for that much time. Later, the drab humdrum of life sets in gouging out that last ounce of excitement and rendering even those fun moments useless. In other words, to me, holidays are a harbinger of boredom.

I put my act together this time however, to fight this boredom. I shall not succumb! Part of my preparation included getting as many movies as possible from the Velociraptor's infinite collection of movies (1 TB is infinite enough for me). One last time, I dragged my lappy along to visit the Farmhouse. A few hung moments later, my computers 160 GB were full and yet... I felt so empty. It was only then dawning upon me that this separation was not just temporary.

As a silent watcher of the scrabble game in which 'Granule' was the greatest word (though the points didn't say a similar story), I silently reflected upon the times bygone. Happy days when I was still carefree, when I didn't think such a time would come.... These holidays aren't as simple as the end of college or a summer break.

When I started packing for my Spicejet trip back home, I noticed the words etched on my trunk - ANIRUDH ARUN - 070607 - BTech Metallurgy. I still remember that day - like it was only yesterday. Like I have only just entered my sophomore year. Time is strange and time is cruel. Things of the distant past seem so near and yet, things just bygone seems eons ago! A discussion about the various developments in the literary world with the Lord, the Chronotron, Master Lefty, the Infidel, the PiSRA and the Complex-Analyst later, we decided it was time to leave. As I left, the only words I had were, "Bye Lefty. See you in November." So simple the words, yet so heavy they felt! A warm handshake with Lefty and a hug from Rapu later, I was off for S7.

Had I been alone then, the story might have been considerably different. By no means am I soft and mushy at heart but this was something else. I did not know these people as well as I ought to have known, and yet the burden of separation was so profound. The Exodus has come.

It set me thinking about the one year which lay between now and the time when we'd have to part with another beloved batch... There were no signs of rain but Petrichor penetrated every corner. Had it not been for the comrades who shared that walk along with me, the droplets would have fallen.

Time is cruel, as I've already said. Wonderful times pass by in a jiffy and bad hours simly crawl by... But Time is a healer and most importantly, Time goes on... Time doesn't wait for any one. (as Lezz and Hari Haran seem to have so aptly put it) We get our chances just once and its only just that we take them then and there. I've already felt like I've lost so much... So many opportunities... Yet, nothing.

But then again, opportunities take many forms. If not this, then maybe something else. So, I await the test of time. These holidays may very well turn out to be great. For one thing, I've got an intern - my first. I really hope that I like it. As for the other things I await, the UCL finals (even after those shattered dreams, third time in a row) and more importantly, the FA Cup. IPL seems to be a time-filler of sorts finally, though it has clearly flattered to decieve. With hopes for good times ahead and with an inventory of some cult classics, I hope to fight boredom and conquer that elusive 'enjoyable holidays'.

But for that, I really need to get some sleep. And catch the bus tomorrow at eight. So, adieu Roorkee. Au revoir, fourth years. Catch you in a couple of months, the remaining of you lot. Cheerio.

Of our elaborate plans, the end

Of everything that stands, the end.

But maybe this end isn't going to be so sad after all.

The Unwavering Faith

It's a time for firsts. The first time, I've inked a post. The first contribution to my blog from amidst an MT class. For the first time since 1947, Chelsea has had FA success against Arsenal... It is also the first time this season, United have lost a critical draw.

Am I glad? - You may ask. The answer to that is simple, 'Yes'. But what doesn't occur to the Red Devils' fans is that I rejoice - not because I take joy in Fergie's men crashing out, not because I detest the World Club Team Champions - but plainly because I would rather have Chelsea play Cahill, Pienaar and Yakubu than Scholes, Rooney and the dreaded number 7; because I would rather have Lampard running into Neville than Ballack into Nemanja Vidic... and because I fear, more than the twice lucky Tim Howard, the all time great Van der Sar.

Clearly Dela and ManU fans (the very people who say 'Chelshit' and are not, by any standards, Chelsea haters) have clearly misunderstood my (I speak for myself as I do not clearly comprehend the happenings in Azad) intentions. Repeatedly, have I been accused by people of being a supporter of a club which 'bought' its Silverware. To them, I ask, "Would you stop liking ManU if, after Fergie's departure (yes, even he will have to leave some day), ManUnited goes through a phase of buying good players?" I have been a Blue since the days of Gianfranco Zola and Eidur Gudjonsen and not just since Drogba and Essien... and I shall remain one, no matter what they do. For they still play amazing football. For the team was always great, now - only greater. For Chelsea, Chelsea is our name.

I agree the anti - ManU sentiment is at an all-time high and is still growing but nothing can be more unfair than to shove all the blame on Chelsea fans. Two days ago - I did not wince when I saw the video in Lefty's room, for the first time, of ManU's redemption - of Ole Gunnar Solskjær and Teddy Sheringham scoring in 90 and 93 - when he said, "Football, bloody hell!" In fact it was quite to the contrary - I actually felt that they should have won more, since 1999, than just 2 Champion's League finals!

14th April, 2009: Chelsea vs Liverpool - 

Kick Off - A friend (fellow 'fan') and I enter the TV room. Match starts and he gives me some stat about how Chelsea has never lost in ....

Half Time - Liverpool have scored twice and 'fan' leaves the TV room without uttering a word. I face the onslaught of a room full of Reds who tell me Chelsea was never destined to reach the Quarters.

48 minutes - 'Fan' reappears. Only now, he dons the #8 Gerrard jersey, and giving me but an over-the-shoulder glance, he joins the Red bandwagon.

A few mins hence - Drogba and Alex have scored - 'Fan' leaves.

Full time - 4 Chelsea - Liverpool 4 and Chelsea advance.

That is no fan, clearly. Neither do these people have a right to support any team, nor do their views on 'Joga Bonito' count. Such are the people who form the hater-base of a team. Not fans, please.

I am a fan. I have more important things to do than to hate teams. Chelsea plays brilliant football - some people just can't accept it. The only reason, I may not be watching every match in a TV Room is because of the lack of following here... I definitely do not like the idea of being the lone supporter against a sea of Reds, even though it gives me immense pleasure winning the draw after bearing their insults throughout the 90 minutes. Manchester United simply has a much larger fan base.

Apart from the true fans, every wannabe becomes a Man United fan because it is always the easiest team to support! But, there is always a flipside. All this also makes it the easiest team to hate. And hence, the hater-base!

Yesterday was a dismal performance from both sides, one in which ManU didn't play - it was just a bunch of reserves. Looked like Ferguson didn't want the FA Trophy anyway. The quintuple is definitely out... (and not 'out in the dumps' as some people misquote) Its still commendable that they are in with a shot for a quadruple, for which they'll hopefully play Chelsea in the finals of the Champions League.

So its probably not the best of ideas to divert one's frustration and anger after losing ONE match at some innocent bystander who said nothing controvertial, someone who definitely doesn't hate ManU! Having said that, I'm glad that our chances of winning FA have gone up several notches since yesterday night.

P.S. Maybe I must apologize on behalf of some Chelsea 'fan' who hates ManU. People support a team for different reasons - A Liverpool fan may be that just because he hates ManU... But there is a distinct possibility that he just loves Liverpool. Give him a chance, will you?

P.P.S. IPL is definitely not half as interesting this year!

To Forgo And To Forget

'Temasek' may not mean a lot to many (no, its not a Russian footballer) and fewer still would give the word more than a fleeting moment's notice. Others still, would see it as a chance of winning not only an all-expenses paid trip to Singapore (for six months), but also the unique opportunity of being able to forget about CGPA during the entire period while the insti maintains it for you. I have come under all the three categories of people I have mentioned during the course of the eventful week which has just elapsed.

I have always dreamt of travelling far and wide - seeing Machu-Pichu, Ougadougou, Vladivostok, Mogadishu... So what more could I have asked for when such an opportunity came knocking on my door - no strings attached? But soon after reflecting on it for but a few moments, I realized that there was, as there is to every good thing in this world, a flip-side of the deal... The implications of missing a sem and with it, one-eighth of my life in R seemed alarmingly profound. The profs who might be like - 'WhoTF are you?' when I get back... Friends who are separated from you by the Bay of Bengal and a few more seas... And juniors about whom you have no idea about in sections that you thought you knew! 'Hmmm, maybe it isn't a good idea after all."

But then, a half-hour spent with the Great Debator in the premises of the Ravindra Bhawan canteen laid all my worries to rest (and kinda made me look stupid to come up with them in the first place!) Paper work followed suit... We had to draft a matching plan with the names of the courses we would take in NUS in place of those here and then get it approved. It was just after the TS and we definitely weren't at our prime when it came to the speed and dexterity with which we were getting things done (Not that I'm any faster at my brisk best). Anyway, soon our hopes were high and my friend almost hummed a tune which sounded a bit oriental and a bit Tamizh!

However, the pace at which things went on, compounded by the many rules which bind our insti and the sloth which calls itself the Department of Chemical Engineering combined magnificently and resulted in a brilliant interview with the Dean of Academics. The prof. whose signature I needed on the all-encompassing subject-sheet did not set foot into the Department on D-Day (other profs refused to sign it citing difficulties in the matching) and I was left to fend for myself when I faced the panel.

The room had three inhabitants as I entered... The DoA, the coordinator of the NUS-IITR exchange (Co) and an Unknown Third Guy (UTG) (I didn't know him anyway). I made a grand entrance trying to look sad as well as hopeful - I had the required CG, you see... But the approved (subject) matching plan with NUS was not in my hands. Actually, the Subject-Plan was - just that there was no approval.

Trying to look guilty for my 'negligence', I sat there on the fourth chair as three pairs of eyes gazed keenly at me. My eyes, however, were fixed on the packet of Lays (American Sour Cream and Onion) placed at the centre of the table.

DoA: So (searching for the name) Anirudh, you have a good CGPA, we hear. One which matches our criteria.

Me: Yes sir. I understand that.

UTG: But we also understand that you do not possess the other criterion - the matching subject plan.

Me: Yes sir. (Avoiding the Lays packet now and looking straight at him) Actually, I do have the plan (holding up a folder) - only that it hasn't been fully approved. Four subjects out of six are oka-

UTG: That's a worthless piece of information you carry there. It clearly said 'Approved Plan'. You can read, surely?

Me: Yessir, I'm sure I can... But the head of the UG Committee didn't grace the department today. And we have shown it to the HOD als...

Co: Aapko leke aana chahiye tha. We can't wait any longer... Tomorrow is a holiday also.

UTG: What were you doing all these days? (Now to the DoA) Sir, we now have three applicants (only?!) - two, who don't possess the subject approvals and a third who doesn't match the CGPA criterion. (How convienient)

Me: Sir, could you give us another day? The TSs were the problem mainly and the fact that we didn't know what courses we have in the next sem. Regol has started now only sir...

DoA: I don't know if...

UTG: How can you even come up with such an excuse?? I'm sorry I don't think we can do anything about this.

DoA (now agreeing with UTG, who seemed to have sworn vengeance on me): Yes. I'm sorry Mr. Anirudh. The CG is okay but nothing can be done. Thank you.

Me: Thank you, sir. I understand that its too late. So if there is nothing that can be done... Thank you, sir.

As I left the room, I felt that maybe I should have insisted on a day's extension - maybe I gave in too easily.

But the next person into the room alleviated all those doubts. He argued for a while and ended up just short of being booted out of the room by the UTG, who now seemed to be on a roll having finished the entire 20 Rupees packet!

The whole experiance did leave me with a bitter taste. But then again, the plan may not have been approved even if the prof had arrived (though I'd have felt a lot better being rejected that way). One may feel it is 'sour grapes' if I say that now, 'I feel better that I didn't make it'. But that is exactly how I feel right now. The only regret I carry now is be the fact that I missed out watching the 3-1 Liverpool clobbering at Anfield (though I did watch the minute-by-minute commentary most of the time). All I'd say at the end of it all is the clichéd, but highly relevant 'All's well that ends well.'

P.S. The name is Ivanovic - Branislav Ivanovic.

P.P.S. Thus ended the first formal interview of my life (at least in R). In a nutshell, short and sweet (or sour, should I say)... I conclude here with the hope that I'll survive for a bit longer in the interviews to come. Amen.

A Brief History Of Time

It's been really a while since I've typed, and with thoughts gushing through my mind right now, I'm finding it difficult to keep pace with it! Well, these two months have zoomed past at supersonic - It was April : I was cozying up to the daily schedule of CS, movies and novels (much to the extent that it began to get boring) when I realized that the sem was drawing to a close! It's just amazing - It feels just like yesterday when I was hurriedly flipping through the pages of 'Morrisson And Boyd' making some last minute notes before the JEE and Presto! Here I am, one-fourth and engineer!

The fall of the semester saw a lot of ghissing though, a last ditch attempt though I hope it didn't come too late... Whatever the means, my life seems to be running into monotony, be it too much of fun or too much of work. And breaking away from the shackles of boredom and humdrum (especially when its so tempting and pleasurable) is almost impossible. Things began to get out of hand and that's when IPL made its grand entry... THe Mike Hussey ton, Mat Hayden's classy knocks, Murali's wily turns and Morkel's huge hits (of course coupled witha due bit of regional pride) made me a CSK fan - IPL was the saviour of the bored! I soon found out that it gave me immense pleasure to sit in a room full of Delhi supporters and be the only one smiling when the result was announced. I can proudly boast to be one of those few who have watched every one of those IPL T-20 matches. And that's not all, April proved to be more beautiful... Chelsea not only won back title hopes, it has made its way to the Champions League Finals - Moscow may soon be the land of the Blues!

This one year at IIT has also taught me a lot though I haven't learnt anything - that there is no point in working too hard (you can be brilliant at a subject and still hit rock-bottom and you can ace a test when you don't know a thing); that anything can be done given dead-line, however unrealistic it may seem (I've seen people complete the entire syllabus of the sem in a couple of days when the exams are tomorrow); that when the going gets tough, even the tough get stuck out here; that you need to flush out the entire previous sem in order to store the present stuff in those grey-cells; and no matter how badly you do, there are always others who do worse... I've realized that it's better to write what you know than asking the guy next to you what he copied from the guy next to him (Mr. White, are you reading this??)

Everything seems to look more beautiful when you don't possess them - My gruelling days before the JEE, I want to relive those. God alone knows how much I'll miss this place once I leave... I've cognized that life is about now - and not about what it was or what will be... And there's a long way left to go - But right now, 25% loading complete, 75% to go... PARTY TIME!!!