You'll Never Walk Alone

Why don't you become the fan of another football club? My mom asked me casually, as though asking me to replace an old shirt with a new one. Liverpool seem to be losing everything. And I have been asking myself- why am I a liverpool fan. Why do i get slightly depressed everytime they lose? I live in India and I don't really care about the Indian cricket team, like half a billion do, here in our great nation. And then it came to me, like a splat of crow's poo on my old shirt that needs replacing anyway.

There is a little bit of character and personality involved. I am not talking about teenaged idiots who support manchester united for no reason or because they know beckhem (or the more recent phenomenons of Ronaldo and Rooney) played for united. I am talking about the mature fan. A mature man united fan loves a method to win. Its usually the guy who does an MBA and then works at an MNC. Not an analogous example because you might be arty farty and a Man united fan at the same time. But you will have this formula to victory, this ruthlessness when it comes to defeating easy opponents. Like Shankar and James Cameroon who make comercially successful films in Tamil and Hollywood respectively. Two wingers, exceptionally good and powerful strikers. You will see a crowd of players in the box as the cross comes in. Even the hardcore man united fan will agree with me when I say man united with suck big time if Rooney left just like they lost most of their firepower with Ronaldo. Not much midfield creativity involved. Mid fielders either break play or pass it too the wings, thats it.

As for an Arsenal fan, two words- sheer class. Midfield creativity reigns, with movement so beautiful that even a match that ends in a draw will be an edge of the seat thriller. There is this dedication to this philosophy at all costs. No over the top spending and investing in young talent (analogous perhaps with having the young hot girlfriend/boyfriend who has no brains but you teach her/him everything). But in all that style some substance is lost. Barcelona too as a team can be tactically outsmarted as Benitez and Mourinho have demonstrated. There is this lack of maturity in all this adventurism.

Before I come to Liverpool I have to talk about Chelsea, Real Madrid and Man City. One word- spendthrifts. The spoilt rich kid, very cranky, wants everything at any cost. Chelsea and teams like Real Madrid and the recent Man City have a very good scope of being all conquering and all powerful. If you have the money you can buy talent, good management, trophies and maybe a big fan following. But only to an extent. Real din't want Capello anymore, because now that they had all the trophies in the word, they wanted what their arch rivals had- style. Style and passion are priceless.

Now lets make a stop at Anfield. I must accept that initially it was a whim a fancy that I became a Liverpool fan. But over the says I identify a lot with Liverpool. To the extend that even as they sink to an all time low, 7th place in the league, I don't wanna change my old t-shirt. Here is the reason why-

"What my club represents is very important," he says. "If you know what your club stands for and you are part of it you will play better because it means more to you. Every time I pull on a Liverpool shirt I know it's more than just a game. Liverpool has a mentality, an identity, I like. They are a hard-working people's club. They are huge but with a humility."

I am quoting someone who became a liverpool fan very recently. There is one word for liverpool- 'Passion.' We don't have a plan like Man united, we don't have Arsenal's style and we ccertainly don't have oily money. We run around the ball and chase it like mad men on big european nights. If you see a liverpool players run on big nights then you will get exhauted watching them go at it. Stevie G and Carra will make you wince in pain with the tenacity of their tackles. Reina will pull stunning save after save. Agger will suddenly pull the trigger from distance. Dirk Kuyt though not the classiest player in the world will be everywhere, all the time, how he manages that I will never know. Aurelio is back.... and we all know how this guy can cross. Glen Johnson thought erroneous in defence is stunning with his forward runs. Alas Xabi Alonso has left, the midfield mastermind was certainly a force to reckon with. The spoilt rich kid plucked him away, and Benitez the Champions League hero has gone seeking greener pastures. But we still have our talisman, the author of the afore mentioned quote- El Nino.

But even he won't stay if we don't win anything this season. I qoute Davil Villa his strike partner for Spain-

"They have to prove they are capable of challenging on all fronts this season, otherwise he will be gone. Torres is happy at Liverpool in every sense apart from the football.
"He loves the city, the fans and the players. He will not sign for Manchester City because, for him, money is not the most important thing but if Liverpool fail to win anything again I'm sure he'll be at Chelsea next season."
Sometimes passion is not enough. In the world cup which recently concluded there were many Liverpool players who played for various countries. Skertel for Slovakia who made it to the group stages but lost. Agger for Denmark who lost in the group stages itself. England had Stevie, Carra and Johnson but were mercilessly slaughtered by Germany. Germany then went on to thrash Argentina who had Javier Mascherano as captain. Kuyt and Torres made it to the finals and both lost even though they were in opposing teams. Torres limped out with an injury, a display which represents liverpool's last season.

But from the Ashes shall rise another liverpool bird with Roy leading the way, singing- You will never walk alone.

Suicidal Butterflies Select

Suicidal Butterflies

800 kms in two days, national highways, single lane roads by the Ghats, small winding mountain roads, adrenaline junkies, suicidal butterflies....pure awesomeness. A few words to describe the Royal Enfield 'Trip' to Yercaud.

Didn't have a good beginning though. I was repeatedly asked why I was wearing shorts and the pillion rider 'Maruthu Pandian' was asked why he was not wearing a helmet! And then a few minutes into the ride I saw a bird fly past a truck. It struck the frontal glass and then fell 'splat' right in front of my bike. Then we lost the pack which took a right somewhere on the highway. Hari a close friend and a fellow rider abandoned me, to ride with the pack, even though we had decided early on that we will ride together.

But then the beauty of the ride increased four fold. It felt like I was Alice falling into the rabbit hole. It started with a few, then it became a few tens, then a few hundreds and finally a few thousands of migrating butterflies, which flew right across the highway. A few got killed by speeding motorists but their sacrifice provided for bike riders an ethereal feel of wonder, along with insect splatter on clothes and helmets.

The Ghats were beautiful, like genetically modified vegetables- firm, big and out of shape. Coconut trees and green wild grasses sprawled all along the concrete monster pathways. I had a feeling animal and insects like the butterflies felt- 'what monsters are these that flock through our valleys, spewing smoke and killing our young that cross it'. Then there was the steep hill climb to Yercaud. We didn't take the commercial route, this was a smaller road with fewer hairpin bends that lined the other side of the hill. Steeper and hence shorter this route felt like a one way road to heaven. The Angels beckoned as we made the curves without any barriers on the roads protecting us from a free fall and if we fell off the clip it looked a certain hell, even though these were not the tallest hills I have climbed.

This was the route. Now for a detailed report on the people and the ways of the pack. I present to you a few case studies-

Case Study 1
Leaders of the pack. Adrenaline junkies who never slowed down for anything...speed bumps, bad roads, monster curves...anything. Will probably die young. Probable cause of death in the near future- vein pops at high speeds.
Cool Quotient- Unbelievably high

Case Study 2
Bald, big bellied, short...the modified seats of the classic 500 made him look shorter. Wore a red scarf under his helmet which made him look like red riding hood with a hormonal imbalance. Too old to die young. Probable cause of death eventually- hit by an overtaking motorist.
Cool Quotient- Unbelievably low

Case Study 3
Tight jeans, RayBan sunglasses, weird beard. Very wannabe macho man. Will die young. Probable cause of death- testicular cancer from wearing all that tight clothing.
Cool Quotient- Negative

Case Study 4
The bullet geek. Talks tirelessly of modifying his bullet. Won't run out of bullet topics. Will die young. Probable cause of death- hit on the head with a bullet silencer by an annoyed mechanic.

Case Study 5
The old dude whose bullet keeps breaking down. Smokes continuously and coughs at the same time like a TB patient. It's a miracle that he is still alive.

Case Study 6
Slow coach. Old looking dude with his daughter. Or was that his wife. Will live long enough to see his grandchildren.

Case Study 7
The sweepers of the pack. Very tall and very big bellies. Very good mechanics. Chew Gutka. Will die young. Probable cause of death- Hypertension from sweeping slow riders.

Case Study 8
Young wannabe bulleteers. Think that overtaking and then slowing down is a sport. Very annoying for riders of the pack. Will die young. Probable cause of death- Negligent riding. Name: Hari. Big bellied. Looks like he won't bald just yet.

The ways of the pack

It's as simple as follow the leader. I have vibrant memories of playing follow the leader as a kid. The leader would take his cycle through unbelievably hard obstacles like through the gutter or on the pavement and the line of cycles behind him will follow suit. The person who fumbles goes right to the end of the pack, and the chance of becoming a leader comes when everyone in front of you has fumbled once. But in the pack of bulleteers there is no room for fumbling, fumbling at 90km/hr means a certain means death. Which explains the extra protection the seasoned riders were wearing.
Knees pads, elbow pads, cramster jackets, thick rider boots and gloves. There were a few with camel packs or back packs with water which they could suckle water from while riding. At 1st it looked very funny and the wise guy that I am I cracked a joke- maybe they should carry a catheter bag too...ha ha. But after riding with the pack for more than an hour straight I could feel dehydration setting in and I almost flashed my lights.

Flashing the lights mean that there is an emergency of sorts and the entire pack stops. Just one of the few benefits of riding in a pack, you get to avoid being stuck in the middle of no where with a broken chain. When riding in a pack you ride in two files. You shift to a single file only when really necessary like overtaking in between two trucks or in traffic. You overtake in the same side as the leader overtakes. You never unnecessarily overtake a member of the pack and you don't allow an external cars or bikes inside the two files of bikes. What this means is enhanced safety as cars and trucks slow down when they see such a big group of bikers. And I don't know if this is true but I could surely feel a decrease in wind hitting me so I have a feeling that group riding streamlines the pack and hence reduces friction atleast for the bikes in the back.

The sweeper makes sure that everyone sticks to the pack hence making sure no one is left behind and if any bike lands up in trouble he goes to help. Now the route we took was really good, apart from the amount it took to wait for bullets which went the wrong way or were too slow. We started an hour behind schedule from the Bullet showroom in Adyar and I raced past our 1st meeting point at Saveetha Dental College to get to Red Chilli restaurant on Poonamallee. I was the 1st to get there as the rest of the group actually stopped at Saveetha. We started off from there just behind the leader of the pack and kept up with him for a long time till Vellore we took a detour to get a helmet for pillion rider Maruthu Pandian. Then Hari and I blasted our way to Vaniyambadi where the pack was waiting for us. Constantly hitting speeds of a 120km/hour we encountered the butterfly migrants, most of who commit ed suicide by coming in our path. After reaching vaniyambadi we washed our gear off the butterfly splatter.

Then from Vaniyambadi we rode to Kuppanur via Thirupattur and Harur. The stopovers increased a lot during this stretch making it a long and tiresome affair. But after a few chocobars at Vaniyambadi we climbed to Yercaud where we stayed at the Star Holiday Resort. The return journey was pretty much in the same route.

From this blog the reader might read between the lines and think that bulleteers who ride in the packs are all adrenaline junkies who all want to die young. Far from it, riding in a pack only increases the element of safety, a method to the madness. Suicidal butterflies are only a part of the whole metamorphic experience.

The bullet train

I have to write a review about the new bullet classic 500cc. The beast is reborn. It has the power- torque the pull of the old bullet. Also the huff and puff, almost menacing heart beat- the thud of the engine that sends vibrations so rhythmic down your spine that you wonder if you are getting the mildest of therapeutic shock treatments. It has the same weight of the beast but more uniformly distributed through all of its long body. It’s still intimidating.

Bullet purists might say that I am not really a bulleteer. My 1st bike was after all a 150cc TVS Apache. I beg to differ, because not many know that when I was little I used to ride on the tank of my dad’s bullet as he cruised at 80Km/hr in busy Indian roads. My hands were on the insides of the handlebar so my 1st bike was a bullet after all. My dad’s beast was everything my bike is but it was also tougher to handle and would not start if it didn’t feel like it. I have vague memories of my dad trying to kick start the 350cc dark brown monster in the early hours of cold Delhi mornings. Decompress, kick, beat, decompress, kick beat, beat... My dad was tough but one generation down I have to admit that I am quite mellow. The new 500cc classic is for bums like me. Electric start, electronic fuel injection mean that there is no decompressing and kicking, and I get better fuel efficiency.

Legend has it that the reborn classic will beat the fastest indian by hitting a 100Km/hour in a nerve wrecking 10 seconds. (11 secs for the pulsor 220). Its certainly thought to be more stabler at its top speed of 130Km/hour. I am sayin “thought” because I am not gonna cross 60km/hour till I finish 3000 kilometers on the odometer. I did however go on a 55 km ride on OMR and it felt like i was on a train. Comfortable, stable, the sounds and gentle vibrations made it the most heavenly experince second only to...

There is but one down side. Its a bitch to park the beast in narrow parking spots say at a jam packed central railway station parking lot. I broke a lot of sweat and a few pieces of my back bone trying to lift the classic. Mellow. I hate myself for that.

I have a friend who told me- having a bullet is like having a girlfriend. Bad fuel efficiency, expensive to maintain- I spent a whopping 800 bucks in the free f*in service for the engine oil (I wonder how expensive a paid service will be), will throw her weight around this one. But we don't know why we fall in love, like we don't know why we buy a bullet. This friend and I agree on one thing- All you need is love Paam pa pa pa Paam.