Cricket with cheerios

Today I went to the Bangalore cricket ground for a little Indian Premier League action: the Royal Challengers of Bangalore took on Kolkata’s Knight Riders. The roads near the ground were chockablock with tuktuks, the muddy path that lead to the ground a river of excited, face-painted cricket fans making a lot of noise. So far, so Indian.

I was startled, then, when a dozen white 19 year old cheerleaders entered the ground. Six for Bangalore, six for Kolkata, they twirled their batons in the tiniest of outfits. It seemed incongruous, inappropriate even, in a country which pixelates nipples on the TV.

(Hang on. Nipples get the pixelation treatment in the US, and yet their cheerleaders dance like overenthusiastic strippers in butt-cheek baring hotpants.)

But still, this is cricket...

The IPL is, I know, all about bringing some glitz to the game. I had thought this was glitz of the Indian, Bollywood style type. Witness the batsmen’s incredible golden pads, for example.

But skinny white cheerleaders shaking their booty? It just seems wrong. I googled to learn that they are on loan from the Washington Redskins (TLOML’s team), and claim to be delivering a blend of traditional all-American cheerleading moves and Bollywood hip-hop steps. It looked like made-up-on-the-spot booty twirling to me, but I’m no expert.

The Indian cricket goers seemed to like it well enough. The cheerleaders had a little gang of fans who gathered around their podium when they did their stuff.

I wondered, though, what these skinny teenagers from DC made of it all. Has anyone explained to them the vagaries of the Duckworth / Lewis system*, by which reckoning RCB needed to make 102 to beat KKR’s 89 runs? Do they understand the intricacies of various LBW* scenarios, or do they think some dismissals are completely random?

And most importantly, when they signed a contract saying they’d do a sexy jig every time RCB scored a boundary, did they have any idea it could be as often as every 30 seconds? Chris Gayle made a quick 38 almost entirely from boundaries: every time the poor kids sat down from celebrating one, they had to get up to celebrate the next.

I shouldn’t worry too much I suppose. The season only lasts a couple of months, and these girls, once the pom pom twirling is done for the day, get to hobnob with the biggest stars in India and – if my time as a foreigner in a posh Bengalore hotel is anything to go by – get pampered right up.

Judging by the controversy their presence has apparently created, and the threats to their security (they have been banned from post-match parties for their own protection), they may not be around much longer. Enjoy them while you can...

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*Translations for Americans:

Duckworth/ Lewis is the calculation of a revised target when rain stops play.

LBW is the dismissal of a batsman for placing his leg before the wicket, with no attempt to play the ball.

Transeurasian Tales

Is that a proper geographic term? I'm pretty sure I flew over something called Eurasia last night, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

Now I've landed and spent a day in Bengaluru I am happy to be able to reinforce more brilliantly true cliches about Johnny Foreigner for your edification. It's so nice to have one's prejudices confirmed.

Here in the city of boiled beans, as I expected, the people are superhelpful and there are cows grazing under the underpass. There are cool temples in bright colours. No sighting of street cricket yet mind you.

My taxi driver showed me photos of the Royal Wedding on the telly, taken on his phone. He confirmed that yes, indeed, all of India was bursting with joy at our marvellous Britfest. (So nice the way the former colonies don't bear a grudge, isn't it? Or is it just the guys in the service industry...?).

In the office of good old Big Corp, there are 2 men on every floor who's sole employ is to dispense tiny cups of really good strong, sweet, tea. For about 8p a cup.

And most of the women at work wear fabulous saris and big swooshy scarves, in pinks and peacock blues, and with bangles and sandals. I look like some sort of puritan pilgrim figure in my black trousers, white shirt and brogues.
 

Yup, definitely a hotel in India.

I know I know, but he really didn't seem to mind and I will tip him before I leave, I promise.

Cross-pollination: sometimes things don't get worse, they get better

Take this exciting new shake shop in West Hampstead.

I almost fancied myself in Ruby's or John's Garden Malibu as I browsed the menu. There were all sorts of tasty refined sugary American treats there - Fluff, Reese's Pieces, and the rest.

And, when I got to the bottom of my Peanut Butter Nutter, I realised the straw had a cool shovel bit at the end of it. Presumably for scooping up the delicious chunky bits. Positively Japanese in its cleverness.

Ideas do travel and consumer culture, well, consumes the good stuff. And this can lead people to commiserate the erosion of a native culture. (Though following the frenzy of Union Jack bunting that accompanied the Royal Wedding, I think Britishness is alive and well.)

Anyway, when it comes to the import of delicious big peanut butter and banana milkshakes, served with a smile, I say 'let Johnny Foreigner in!'

Just a little transatlantic cross-pollination

This happened in the US:

This man vowed a razor would not approach his face till Bin Laden was brought to justice. (It's kinda funny that, because this took so much longer than he might have expected, he ended up with a beard rather reminiscent of Bin Laden's own.) Anyway, after he shed some tears of joy, he shaved it off.

And here in the UK, the freegan movement apparently continues to gather pace.  Freegans are people who climb into industrial bins and rootle about for thrown over food. According to one freegan, 'the moment it is thrown out is usually when it tastes the best.'

Like the man with the Osama Bin Laden beard, I sympathise with their sentiments, but find the actions a little unpalatable.

And yes, this is a slightly random post. I wanted to share with my US readers something I saw in the UK media, and vice versa. Since the media is global now, thanks to the interweb, I hope you'll appreciate the gesture for what it is: pure tittle tattle.

Blame another busy day in the Big Corp office.