When I was a young angry boy, I fought against what I believed was wrong. I fought against nepotism, fought to retain the spirit of the game both in the dressing room and on the field, fought for the purity of the sport.

I basically fought the system time and time again; and then, over time, the flame of youth diminished and though wrong still got me going, I chose to distance myself from it instead of fighting it.
Then as I grew older and the hair turned white and the belly took on an extra few rolls the world of wrong started to amuse me and I began to enjoy the world far more than I had ever done. That’s when I discovered humour in cricket. I am amused at the people who declared T20 as the scourge of cricket and now write volumes in its praise and at those who believe that it’s T20 that has changed cricketing technique and are not willing to give ear to the reasoning that the shift in technique has come over time, evolved with the changing game itself and that T20 requires implementation of transcended technique at all times unlike any other form of the game. I am amused at the experts who compare a cricketer who attained the position of a genius without the helmet to one who has never scored an international hundred without one. I am amused by young batsmen with atrocious techniques, showing their utter disbelief at getting out. I am amused by a few franchisees; now they speak cricket and nod as the world acknowledges their immense knowledge.
Above all there is one aspect of cricket in India that truly amuses me. Thousands of players dedicate their lives to cricket for every Test cricketer that takes birth. The amount of cricket that is played by the person that makes it to the very top and the others who spend their lives trying to get there is pretty much the same yet there is a special status that is given to a Test player and I agree with that to a certain extent. He is the best of the best, well at least he is supposed to be, and should be given all the accolades possible but what wrong has the poor cricketer who has dedicated his life to the game yet not played a Test committed to be treated with discrimination when it comes to sharing the large booty with the BCCI? The board pays large sums of money to those that have played Test cricket and throws peanuts to those that haven’t. Why? The assumption surely cannot be that these non-Test-players have not dedicated their lives to the game? Even the pension given by the BCCI is based on a minimum number of first-class games played. What if a cricketer, all of 22, who has dedicated whatever life he has lived so far to the game, falls ill and cannot continue playing and falls just one short of the magic number required for a pension? What of all those cricketers who continue playing cricket all their lives yet cannot achieve the magic number? Don’t these people deserve equal rights as other players? Surely their love of the game and their life spent within its embrace cannot be lesser than that of Test players?
Test cricketers have the added funding from sponsors and advertisers and get financially lucrative positions within the fraternity after they retire whilst other cricketers simply wither away. Surely the sacrifice of these millions cannot be laughed at for without their sacrifice you wouldn’t have Test cricket, leave alone the superstar Test cricketer.
But as none of this is going to make any difference to the people who matter, the best thing for me to do is to sit back and revel in the amusement of it all.