The problem with opening ceremonies is that there have to be closing ceremonies and that means more canned culture, corporate cupidity and mind-numbing visuals of boys and girls running aimlessly with coloured pieces of cloth.
And what could be worse than all this?
Lots.
As the World Cup opening ceremony wound down (not that it ever would up) I was left with this robbed feeling. Something was missing. Some, inspiring, exciting, riveting element that eluded my memory into the late hours of the night. And then I got it.
Lalit Modi.
And his regular speech. And his thanking Mum and Dad and the children for so much support, the neighbours, the milkman, his banker, and the neighbour next door and the brotherhood of man and smiling at Katrina Kaif and hugging Shashi Tharoor and looking, for all it was worth, as
the man for the job. Without old Lalit’s presence it just wasn’t the same thing. Like a chicken pattie without any chicken in it. I know that is IPL and this is the World Cup but Lalit was so much fun.
Imagine what you could have done with Lalit fetching up in a rickshaw, come on baby, we are riding a bicycle built for two. You so loved to hate him it made the opening ceremony tolerable seeing as how all these ceremonies are now boring spectacles (more like reading glasses) and someone should ban laser shows because I for one, am bored to tears with opening ceremonies…I am tired of gushing and saying aaaaah, isn’t that wonderful, oh, just get on with the game.
Then there is other drivel.
The inane dribblings from the TV commentators. They blather, they waffle, they use clichés to deaden the brain and frankly, it is time someone said, enough of this pre and post nonsense. Save the money and start a sports academy instead.
If the cricket is anything like the opening ceremony we are in for some incredibly dull moments. Just because you can say stuff like ‘showcasing the nation’ and ‘we have goose pimples watching this stirring display’ means nothing because stirring coffee is more exciting. And it wasn’t a Bangladesh show, it was Indian and it was as flat as an open soda can. Come on, people, stop with the hypocrisy.
Burning a fortune in fireworks is not the answer to anything but opulence. We had average singers singing average songs to average music with Sonu Nigam being the cherry on the cake with some American accented version of a song no one understood and he was writhing in agony to rhyme the word ‘champion’ in the most awful lyrics possible. Dude you should have said, ‘yen’ like don’t you have a ‘yen old bean, to be a champ-yen,’ get the message.
Okay, I am being harsh and mean and it was all well meant but at some stage we have to say, either get some wiz into the craft or dump it.
And who writes these VIP speeches anyway, they are as inspiring as limp lettuce and they go on and on ad nauseam. Not one riveting sentence or observation.
If holding 14 captains hostage on a stage in ill-fitting suits and looking drastically like they would pay money to be elsewhere is a good start then the next 42 days are going to be a lullaby….yawn and ho hum…if there was a fifteenth rick I would have taken it.