Vive le Tour or Leave le Tour?

Again. Again. Its all that dope again. You thought it was over with Landis. You thought Rasmussen was the last of 'em. Vi-noooooooooooo! And then Beltran! Now Ricco. The champion of a monster mountain attack at 26km. The leader of the White Jersey. And latest addition to the most dubious list in Pro Cycling.

I hope the plague is not on again. Going into the Alps (the Alpe d'Huez being part of this year's edition) with just a second separating the top two contenders, a tantalising final week lies ahead. All we need now is one more positive result. One more blotch on the face of this sport. A sport that has for a hundred years personified what teamwork is all about. It has been the embodiment of sheer personal grit.

With drug use raising its ugly head again in cycling- one wonders when it will stop. Saunier-Duval have pulled out. That's a top team out halfway through the Tour. Why, why would you want a shot of EPO if you can climb like that man? Two stage wins in a week. Agreed, you're mostly skin and bones (and loads of concealed muscle), but you managed to crack the likes of Hincapie and Cadel Evans out there. I pray that was all you and not the EPO. I want to hear of a clean Tour. A hard fought tour. A fare Tour. A beautiful Tour.

My Dirty (Right) Foot

With the EURO on in full swing it inspires me (yes, I have given up the "one" tag since I realised my meagre vocabulary and dismal grammar do not permit such a luxury) to tell a tale about my exploits on a football pitch. But before that some key facts:

• Approximate age at which intentional contact was first made with a football: 7 yrs (direct result being loss of 2 incisors- I was going for a header!!!)
• Time for which I have been playing proper football: Around 3 years
• Goals scored: none
• Goals defended*: lost count

Being completely devoid of even an iota of skill, I often bank upon factors such as sheer dumb luck and opposition mistakes to justify my presence on the field. A direct fallout of this is that I tend to use the right foot more than my left in attempts to change the direction of rolling or movement (forget about dribbling people!!) of the ball. Hence on rainy days the right shoe is a lot dirtier when I get home. As a result of my phenomenal ball control I was assigned to the defensive line up as a full back. Eventually realising that this was still a major liability- "Tu ja goalie ban le". I was of course elated. Finally I had been accepted(pooh!). I had made myself a place, a niche even!(No one else was interested). So began my journey.

*Goals defended: Lost count Well, as my journey at the line began (I wouldn't move much, was generally never tired and would constantly bark instructions which bounced off the walls of the closest cement structure), it became evident that there was a spark there. Once in every ten goals scored through my guard, the ball would graze against some part of my body, causing it to deflect away from the intended target. A collection of all such instances are called saves. There have been innumerable such saves but not everyone endorses the above definition. They believe the GD count should be a bold zero.

The Road Ahead: You do realise I was made for this game. Therefore out of complete pity (read as utter awe in the light of skills displayed) I am occasionally allowed to sniff the midfield grass nowadays and often receive pats on the back for passing the ball to the right player. People even cheer if any pass ensuing from my (right, obviously) foot even sniffs the D-top. I see myself going a long way- a long way ahead!

The I P L Song

With the Kings on top and Royals close behind
It seemed like sun would set as everyday
But there came a topple as the seam sang a tune
Theres more to the IPL than the willow's way
A ton rained on Mumbai Gilly giggle Gilly ho
And the Chargers could only adore
Yet it bodes that after all those drinks
The Challengers are hung over as before
With a slap on the map and a minus eleven cap
Theres no love lost among brothers
Riders of the Knight stranded in daylight
Punjab played on the problems of others
Daredevils play their their stunts soon it'll be a month
Of when Baa was displaced from her slot
At 158 Mc Cullum would have been proud
The K truly has officially lost its plot
Move over golden ball move over before a fall
Time wounds all heels, yeah even yours
They'll sing of a green with a pitch in between
And small childern will count six and fours
A snobbish British passtime will reign supreme
Yankees will cheer for a popcorn and beer
The only thing better than Kidman in the shower
Is a ball thats swept of the boundary clear!