You could burn effigies of cricketers. You could shove your colonial hangover on the faces of Caucasian cricketers who actually forsake comfy commentary stints to make Indian cricket less of a fiasco than it is. Perhaps a bar room discussion on how Ajit Agarkar is still in the team despite having been completely drained of cricketing talent. Maybe you’d feel better if Sehwag slipped into comatose.
My advice to you…hit the power button on the television remote when Sachin promotes yet another product to make sure his kid never works a day in his life and do something far more productive than fanatically cheer for a very mediocre team. Get yourself an ice cream or pursue an online diploma, for instance.
I can understand that cricket is a national obsession and you would feel terribly alienated by your friends, family and peers if you ever discussed hockey. But for the sake of people who still respect cricket as a game which requires skill and not a trendy haircut, say this to the nearest rabid Indian cricket fan, “It’s just a fucking game, you stupid, stupid sonofabitch.”
