Becks In The States

" It's tantamount to a semi retirement isn't it? "
-Gary Lineker on Beckham's move.

Totally. It's an escape, with a hint of exploration for Becks, and family. Obviously, Becks’ PR agent is brilliantly diplomatic, for all his public statements are a hundred percent politically and “for-good-image”-ly correct. Apparently he is in it only to raise the "soccer-bar" of the USA. Right. But credit to David on that. How much ever he does get the stick, there is this general radiation of genuineness in Beckham which must be appreciated. But his wife? Well let’s just leave that bit to the “Insider”.

Let us first understand the enormity of this contract – 128 million pounds of 5 years – yes 128 with 6 zeros, to play for an American “Soccer” Team, in country which calls the age-old game of football, “Soccer”! All in all, the moneys adds up to about 26 million pounds a year, and about 490,000 pounds a week, which is about 70,000 pounds a day. Yes I know everyone can do the math, and everyone knows the “figure(s)”, but I need to reiterate – It’s a bloody large sum of money! All I am saying, Mr Beckham, is that, being Godly is all good, but a sum like that would attract even Him. So it wouldn’t be all that bad to admit the fact that, well yes, the money is a ‘fair’ factor, and along with that, “I can also bring about some growth in the MLS, and take American “soccer” to another level” and the other rot. A good counter on that statement of mine would be that Becks has enough already with all his endorsements, so more of these “paper-notes” wouldn’t make that much of a difference to him, but humanity and Posh are different. We humans spend a lot if we can and so does she, maybe her a 'little' more than we can, and when you have 3 mouths to fill, you need that much money now, don’t you?

Sorry, that does sound a little harsh, but sometimes it’s so glaring that we debate only because of the severity of the situation, which goes beyond reason. Let’s not do that. I feel the money is one of the major factors to David's departure and a sum like that will always be - just accept it - no one’s going to kill you. Another "factor", according to me, is Posh. The Hitler-Beckham would love to go the States right, and to Los Angeles? Jackpot!Well to put it nicely 'the family' would love to spend time in one of the most livable places in the world. Now if one women could get a reward for the highest amount of ‘influencing-of-a-man’, it would be the spicy Victoria. From the wackiest haircuts that sometimes even the most open minded people found horrendous (though some were actually good), to the wrongly spelt Hindi-‘Vhictoria’ tattoo, Posh has shaped the pink-man that David is today. Well she is his wife, so it’s not all that bad, but ever since the one thing he is half-good at, “football” has gone no where. His hair, his tattoos, the children, the money, some more hair and so on have been the center of his life. But then, we shouldn’t take anything away from David, after all the best men are the family men. But Davy-boy, let's leave all that apart, just tell us gossip-hungry sadists the real reason for your new pursuit - that’s all I want.

Maybe I am making a big deal out of the family factor and the female-Hitler, but hey how deceiving is what appears? We will never know. So for my selfish pleasure, I write this half-sadistic post and try and ridicule the living day lights out of the Beckham family.

David Beckham’s right foot is legendary in its own way – but then, that’s it. His time at Manchester is also legendary, but since Madrid, it’s been downhill battle for him, and Posh hasn’t really helped. Will Beckham do any better in a “Galaxy” far, far away? Will he “revolutionize” American soccer? I really don’t think so.

MLS commissioner Don Garber said in a statement: "David transcends the sport and is a cultural icon. David is clearly one of the most recognizable athletes in the world”.

I say: "David is clearly one of the most recognizable male-fashion-icons of world, beyond the little football he can play with his right boot.” But then who the hell am I?

P.S. I superficially apologize for the harshness, but my views stick.

by Anish Malpani

2oo7

A supposedly “planned” out day almost fell apart thanks to well, “God” and a few other “betrayal- of-trust” people. Okay, We ditched the booze-ful, dance-ful and event-ful party atthe Ranches because it was completely contradictory to our definition of fun. But, we heard a lot later of the eventful night that was at the Ranches. Right. Anyway, the highlight of this day was supposedly the football match between the ex-students of our school and us, the current students. But hey, quite obviously the ex-students didn’t show. Hell the guy who was “organizing” the ex-students himself didn’t show up. Thanks Kumar! But credit to Josie for being a darling, and blessing us with his half-hippie presence. So what started of as a would-be formal match, ended up as Man Utd fans v/s Arsenal fans match (kinda), in which the lucky-asses of Man Utd won. Fine and damn. It was fun, none the less.

The “match” gets over, thanks to another cheap ass goal from the Man Utd wannabes, and they win. Exhausted after 3 hours of passionate football we finally breathe. I apologize to all those affected by my uncalled-for and abusive “football-outbursts”, and then thank Dusty for the balls. It is now time to head for our next endeavour, The Beach. But first we decide to freshen up at the ‘always-and-forever’ hideout/second-home, Romit's House. God bless him, his mum and his dad for their whole-hearted acceptance of us, and or 200+ DB noise level. We take turns to shower, and Ali picks up the guitar which clearly signals the most entertaining aspect of any party – Singing with the Best Guitarist ever. We sing the classics; enjoy the flatness of Romit and Harry, while SK, the quiet and bored observer plays TEKKEN 4. Harry comes up with a new song which Tejas encourages, but Ali almost ignores. Ali’s vibrating vibrato than resonates the room, and then enter antagonist – my headache. Okay before any Ali erupts, it’s not because of Ali’s vibrato, nor because of Harry’s and Romit’s flat voices, but because of the dreaded passion of mine, football. 3 hours of heavy football in the cold, cold, "desert" of Dubai seems to have gotten to my head.

Bharath and the rest of the Gang B enter the fray and meet us at Venus Deluxe Restaurant in Karama, and this happens to the be the most entertaining aspect of our day. Vegetarian food at a cheap-ass, but brilliant restaurant, with 10 other guys, turns out to be the highlight of the day. Tejas' & Ali’s balloon is dressed while we wait for a table. Apparently we are the not only people who end up at Venus for new years dinner. The food we order comes quick, and above all is scrumptious. Everyone enjoys his complicated-concoctedly-named dosa. Bharath’s “Dry Gobi Manchurian” is a hit. We order 4 plates of that, and well each one of us eats our heart out, rekindling the memories of the by-gone year and well, our by-gone lives, in which one of the highlights is a certain senior male computer teacher. Then the bill comes, and we are filled with unexplainable joy – 10 Dirhams per head – that’s how much it costs. This makes the dinner even more satisfying. There is nothing like good, cheap food. Call us “losers”, “faggots” or whatever else, but Venus rocks! Meanwhile, my headache, despite the Panadol, is still pissing the hell out of me.

It’s 11. We desperately want to make it to the beach before 12. I struggle with an aching head, and Harry, the sweet guy he is, offers me his Santa cap. Everyone else is hunting for cabs. But all we find is a hundred other people waiting for cabs. We see an empty cab, but the bastard doesn’t stop for us. He prefers to give the Filipino chicks a ride instead. Ass. We give up cursing all the frustrating frustrated cab drivers of Dubai who can be such…well we just give up. Time to revert to a previously non-existent Plan B – Romit’s play area. Romit’s house/building saves the day yet again.

It’s 11:45 and my head is still spinning. I get annoyed. We are running to make it Romit’s roof on time for new years. The gang races ahead, my headache pulls Tejas, Govind, Bharath and me back. We lose our way and get temporarily lost in Romit's corridor. The clock strikes 12. We are still in the corridor. Wow. New Years in a Corridor - simply brilliant. Tejas and me just look at each other and smile, and memories of previous New Year nights race into our heads – Burjuman, City Center and City Center – 3 places of our 3 previous New Years. Yeah, laugh on.

We finally make it to the roof after wishing a party of random people “Happy New Year” on the way and then observe the environment-unfriendly-but-half-amusing firecrackers that light up the sky. It’s then time to wish the people we care about “Happy New Year”. Hugs are exchanged and so are messages and phone-calls. Clichéd-ly ‘awwww’. My headache is still pissing the hell out of me, and therefore I decide to spend the night at the life-saver Romit’s house. Harry & Ali go randomly missing having well a “chat”, anyway I hope there was nothing sexual about their escape. We get a little scared when Ali tells us that he pissed in Romit’s building’s Sauna. What the hell was Harry doing? Observing? Anyway, I ignore, at least then.

We have our “honest” talk at Romits, and then Harry leaves. My head is still spinning so I sleep, and soon the rest follow. The end. But not the end of my head-ache – because the annoying piece of shit still haunts me when I get up. For everyone who still doesn’t get it – its painfully annoying to have a headache on New Years.

New Years is over-rated. It’s an excuse to celebrate, but it’s fun none the less. I celebrate it, and that is a little hypocritical (sorry Ali!) in its own way. But hey fun is fun, and even if New Years eve wasn’t the funnest of fun, it was still an experience.

Happy New Year to everyone, however random you are to me. Let’s hope this year is greater, more eventful and more fruitful than the last. Enjoy…

P.S. A long post, but another memory successfully created.

by Anish Malpani