Waiting Room

You think, and I have heard a number of you, that the drunk sprawled with one leg over the pavement, and one on the asphalt, is a man with no worry. Or at least, as some of you would clarify – no remaining worry. For some reason, in this you put me in a group alongside people getting chauffer driven in imported cars, hanging out in beach-side villas, in the company of beautiful women or young and fashionable escorts, custom flown into the town on the Friday afternoon flight. The uber-rich and the drunk on the pavement, you would say, they have no worries!

Maybe you were right too, until the night when the big movie star ran over a family of pavement dwellers in the early hours of the morning. He was, apparently, returning from a huge party and doing 180kmph on his sparkling new Mercedes (imported, of course). He lost control negotiating one of the ninety degree left turns, skipped over to the pavement on the right, and rumbled over three sleeping men. By the time he braked and stopped, and you do know that these Mercedes beauties stop on a dime; he had killed 5 people.

Per the newspaper I read though, only three were dead on the spot, the fourth and fifth died in the government hospital where doctors couldn’t stop the profuse bleeding. Those 3 men and 2 women who died that night weren’t the only ones of the family though. Their family’s matriarch, the sixth to be run over always slept fitfully and that night, as fate would have it, her arthritis had kept her awake – and alive. When she saw the headlights of the Mercedes headed her way, it was like the blinding light the preachers kept referring to, just before you met with God in heaven.

As frail as she was with arthritis and all, she pushed herself up, grabbed her youngest son by his arms and yanked both of ‘em against the wall. Later on, while recollecting these events at the lawyer’s office – the kind gentleman who had taken up this case of drunken driving and manslaughter, on her behalf and against the movie superstar – she wept inconsolably. It was because she realized then, as she spoke, that swivelled to her right put her son between the speeding, swerving car and herself. That is why he sustained those terrible injuries all along the left side of his body. That is why he didn’t suffer any head injury, and hence had the best chance of staying alive in the hospital. That is also why he suffered the most, for about four hours in the government hospital, before the doctors declared him dead. She cried that that the good Lord could have had her swivelling to her left instead. The lawyer, who had seen quite cruel and random things happen to people, called it ‘lunch’. Over lunch, they agreed to continue the session the next day, when hopefully the old lady would have gotten enough of grip on herself to complete her side of the story.

You probably do not remember all this, but it was in the newspapers about ten years back. There weren’t as many Mercedes cars on the roads either, back then. People even boycotted the movie star’s latest released (at the time, he has since racked a number of bumper releases) picture, where he played a 24 year old in love with a 21 year old. Boy and girl belonged to different religions and this gave rise to the Romeo and Juliet tale. The only difference between the hero and heroine was, of course, that the girl was actually only 21 years old back then.

This episode, the fact that when it happened and when I read it – in the papers there was home, in a building and stuff, there was a taxi to drive – mostly between the airport and one of the adjoining towns, that there was a wife and kids to go home to; these used to rankle in the early days of making the pavement my home. Now, I couldn’t care less. At the same time, the prospect that one day it would be my turn to mistake a set of nearby and oncoming headlights for God’s waiting room in heaven – that was too much to ignore and kind of scared me.

7:30 pm in this town is not too early to be completely tanked out. Just as well, because I have absolutely no money left. But not being hungry and a healthy buzz really help. In this small intersection of nice quiet residential streets, is the concreted drive to the house’s gate that, it appears, nobody ever uses. It is a good place to stretch. The concrete absorbs the day’s heat, and somehow is very soothing on my body. The day’s work, a few – more than I could care to recall – drinks, and the nice warm bed – the combination worked wonders for me. Just before heading inside the bar, it would feel all achy from the day’s work, and all angry from the years and many days that have passed. But now, just as I reclined, and every time, I can swear, the buzz actually gets a second wind. If you press your calf on the driveway, it feels close to a hot water bag on your calf. Well, a day’s cycling to and from the construction sites; up and down the rolling hills – that really fries your calf.

I must have dozed off until the heat from the concrete drive on my back and calf went from warm and soothing to almost scalding. So, I turned to my left – and instead of the blinding headlights of a Mercedes what were headed toward me were the tail lamps of one these box type cars that the roads are filled with these days. On another day, I would have appreciated the fact that this box car did not have an annoying siren announcing it was currently in reverse gear. But today, here was this thing just about to back into a guy trying to get some sleep, and soothe his body off aches and pains. At first it was difficult to believe – perhaps the liquor was more potent that I had first imagined, perhaps there were one too many sachets of the brew.

God’s waiting room was not in the guise of blinding headlights at breakneck speed, but a large backside of a dark grey hatchback with burning tail-lights. It got out some of the humor still left in me, and a smile. Problem was, the car didn’t stop rolling in reverse gear and just kept coming straight toward me. So, I shouted out to let this moron at the wheel know that he was quite close to running me over. He didn’t seem to hear and just kept rolling toward me for what seemed like a long time. Funny thing was I did really feel like getting up and right out of danger, either. The fear of personal safety kicked in though the moment it was apparent that this guy was not going to drive clean over my chest or head, but run over my legs and cripple me for the rest of my life.

And before I could do much about it the back-left tire was beginning to climb my left thigh. The tire felt warm too at first, much like the concrete, but in an instant began to burn. Thankfully, I had already begin to thump on the rear fender of the hatch back, and it the couple of seconds that the tire burnt through my dhoti and left the scalding on my thigh, the guy driving the hatch back stopped reversing, put the car into first gear, went a meter or two, stopped and ran around the car to see what the commotion (my shouting warnings and obscenities) was all about.

Soon doctors gathered (the many boards with the red crosses you see in the neighborhood), examined my thigh, and slowly helped me up. When I could finally get up on my feet and limp a few steps, the gathered folks were glad – more because they could get on with their evening and lives, and not because I was unhurt except for a scalded thigh and a torn dhoti. But I did have a few people – educated, wealthy and with kids in tow – hover around for some time, and it has been some time since that happened.

Delicious Irony

It would be delicious irony should RMA take the 2011-12 league title despite losing both the league Classico games. FCB and RMA would have both lost, and both won. Pep and troupes would take heart from the fact that they could go to the Bernabéu and do just as well as they are expected to at the new camp. Jose, and his manner thus far this season goes to add credence to this view, would relegate the Classico battles to being side plots. He would much rather focus on the RMA achievement in the season – taking apart good teams. Some of the games have been laid to rest thirty minutes in, and some games with only ten RMA players left on the park.

Does the irony have a footballing explanation though? Maybe it does.

Particularly since Jose’s arrival in Spain his two views on countering FCB have dominated tactics. He began with conceding possession, packing the last third, and looking to hit on the break. His current, and definitely more appealing and doing justice to the talent at his disposal, tactic is to play a high line, deny FCB the space and time for their tiki-taka. The first approach went with plenty of bad blood – between coaches, between players, etc. The second approach appears to coincide with more cordial relationship. Jose’s brilliance is underscored by the fact that these are the lines along which any discussion of playing FCB goes – these two ideas anchor the tactical discussions, with many teams going with one or the other approach.

FCB response to the first approach was mostly built on patience. They probably played thousands of ‘sterile’ passes. Xavi’s pass completion rate went from the 90% stratosphere to the heavens, above 96%. He didn’t try getting one touch passes back from the corner flags and goal posts – all else was fair game. The challenge for FCB was on one hand how to break the packed last third, and on the other how not to lose patience. It is no surprise that in this competition, there was acrimony waiting to happen every instant. When faced with the high line, Pep had to ensure that his men’s faith in their way didn’t dilute. In the recent Classico, over the first 30 minutes, RMA competed on possession, shots on target, sitters, etc. It was only when they began to tire in the second half that FCB could take the game statistics (including the goals, of course), to where they usually stand.

Just as much as Jose’s anchoring philosophies dominate tactics against FCB, the FCB seems very well prepared to compete these anchoring philosophies – ‘packed last third’ and ‘high line’. But they don’t seem quite as good against “non-anchor” playing styles – opponents whose own game is not one of these two extremes. FCB appears to struggle against opponents who don’t take FCB method, style, record, and percentages too seriously!

They may have struck this Holy Grail out of sheer genius, like Bielsa and Bilbao; or they may have simply stumbled on it because they never had the resources to even begin contemplation of stopping FCB from what they do. It is quite possible also that the FCB preoccupation with their football philosophy and its two major tactical threats has stopped it from thinking about other ways teams may line up against them. There could be ways in which possession stats arent given too much importance, a way where the focus is not so much on Xavi’s pass completion rate but on what influence the triumvirate has around the centre circle, a way that doesn't contest Pique’s assured passing but doesn't respect Valdes' footwork either. These could be the ways leading to FCB games not ending either 3-0 or 0-1, but a 2-2 once in a while. Maybe there is enough tactical acumen and talent in the Spanish league to break free of Jose’s anchors – and therein lies the delicious irony.

And maybe it is time for Jose to have a discussion with Daniel Kahneman too.