A Scowl in the Gaudy Age of the Grotesque

Grotesque is easy to find, anywhere you look. A large man’s sweaty hairy ass-crack hanging out. Overflowing garbage dumps near restaurants. Being 60 and dressing like you were an 18 lady of the night. Makeup on nine-year-olds. iPopularity. And such like. But, we’re talking sports and entertainment. Arguably, the most grotesque of the lot (televised and shown in over 10 countries) is pro-wrestling.

Here’s merely one reason why — Katie Vick. On a show watched by kids all over the world. Yep. But then, WWF/E have always had to resort to gimmickry. I’m by no means suggesting that shit like that Katie Vick thing can be justified. Don’t get me wrong. But gimmicks, yes. All the fireworks, the entrance theme music, the massive screen and the video segments on it. Long and sometimes painfully long storylines. Cars being run over by other cars. People being run over by cars. Affairs of a sexual nature and so on and so forth.

But, I realise they have to resort to the gimmickry. Can you imagine how boring it would be for people to watch two hours of oiled men in spandex just grappling each other. Match after match? Why do you think normal wrestling sucks so much? Pro-wrestling tries to distract viewers from the actual wrestling aspect of it and throws all sorts of other things to keep them interested. Why do you think the “Divas” league in pro-wrestling was set up at all? Because they can really wrestle? Sure. Whatever you say. I’m not talking about actual women wrestlers here, like the ones who go to the Olympics.

Cricket on the other hand, in India at least (so basically 50 per cent of the world’s viewing population), is interesting enough to engage viewers for hours and hours. And this has been the case since long before the cheerleaders, the fireworks, Twenty20 or any of that other stuff entered the fray. Cricket doesn’t need things to be thrown in just to distract spectators. It’s not wrestling. Twenty20 was created as a format to hook newbies and bring them into cricket and not make them dislike the sport more.

Last night, I got a glimpse of just how bad things have become today and got a glimpse into Commissioner Modi’s nefarious scheme to kill cricket altogether. Random music playing at arbitrary intervals including two shocking theme songs (will elaborate at the very end) and a creepy — yes, that’s the best word — version of 7 Nation Army. Explosions going off, cheerleaders and an ass of an announcer yelling at the crowd to make some noise and demanding Mexican Waves every two minutes.

So much hard work just to distract people from the actual cricket on display. Bowlers having to wait till a song was over or till the announcer was done bellowing. The match seemed to revolve around the bullshit that was going on around the stadium. I’ve never ever thought very highly of television advertisements in the middle of cricket matches, but after last night, I will gladly put up with them, because at least I can change the channel. I’d happily eschew the charm and atmosphere of a stadium and watch the match on TV knowing that the dumb ass announcer can’t hurt my eardrums.

I’d miss out on impossibly long lines for refreshments with people shoving each other hard because obviously them getting their food and drinks first and getting in their seats first is the most important thing. I’d miss out on elbows in my face in my attempt to buy an overpriced cup of warm, syrupy and flat Pepsi. I think I’ll manage without that. I’d miss out on all the characters. I’d miss out on seeing people like this group of business yuppies, whose behaviour would probably make Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx’ drunken antics seem polite. Chirmi was right. “The one thing business schools or B-schools don’t teach and bloody well should, is manners”.

Just in front of those fuckwits was an absolute legend. A skinny bespectacled guy wearing a Kolkata cap and jersey, who was a friend of the B-school boneheads (I think). His jersey bore the number 13 and his name (presumably, unless he stole the jersey)... Anuprit. This guy would get up and start gyrating as fast as he could, limbs akimbo, singing along to Kolkata’s ridiculous theme music — while actually knowing only one line. Good for him, the handicap of not actually knowing 90 per cent of the song didn’t stop him one bit. When his team hit its first six, he began shaking violently as he spasmed in his seat like some sort of localised tornado. I instinctively reached for my phone to call for an ambulance. I’m nice like that. His palms turn into fists with unfurled middle fingers and within the space of 4.3 seconds, he’s flipped off everyone at the stadium. The Man with the Fastest Fingers in the East — Anuprit 13. What a legend.

And then there was the cricket. Sure, it was good in parts. A Krappy Kolkata Kombination snuck past the Decidedly Complacent Deccan Chargers. Good match. I like watching a team snatch a loss from the jaws of victory as much as watching a team snatching victory from the jaws of a loss. This match had both elements. But it kept getting interrupted by the crowning jewels of grotesque that night.

“Too hot too cool, All the king’s men We rule!!! We too hot We too cool, Aamhi Kolkata We rule!!!” Anuprit 13 nearly burst a blood vessel every time excerpts from this Kolkata theme music played, which it did regularly. As for the Chargers’ they had Shaan singing some song that went along the lines of “Tum paan khaaoge, Hum chaar khaayenge.... Tum paad maaroge, Hum do maarenge”. Which roughly translates of course to: You eat one betel leaf, we’ll eat four and you fart once, we’ll do it twice. And these songs kept playing after every wicket, boundary, six, no ball, wide, every time the umpire coughed etc. etc. etc.

Relevance to cricket? None
Distraction from cricket? Total
Grotesque nature of the theme songs? Extreme
How did it make me feel? Scowl-y