On Match Fixing

 Sampath came from Bangalore, and I came from Madras (I prefer English names of places as it is classy, unlike the politicised ones). We both had a lot in common. The only issue was that Bangaloreans generally looked down upon Madrasis. I believe they had pubs affordable by college students and we didn’t have! As a matter of fact, even now. Now that made a huge difference in our cosmopolitan, cultural outlook, as per them. That was one thing I lost out on, while I was abreast with him on most other things.

 He was good at racquet games and cue sports. He was not into field games like football. Now I was into most of the field games as also into racquet games and cue sports. The game of "Pool”, was not even heard of those days by which I mean more than two score and five years ago. And in any case, it is no patch to the class of Billiards and Snooker. Sampath looked at field games with disdain. So, it was incumbent on me to match him game for game in his turf.

 We happened to be together for three years at a stretch as we underwent our Integrated Degree Engineering Course from 1975 to 1978. In fact, that is where we met, though we were course mates right from our training days at the Officers Training School. It didn’t take us long to get on swimmingly. It started with the game of Bridge. We became regular partners as we seemed to be on the same wavelength. I knew his Spades and he knew my Hearts, so to say.

  Table Tennis was a game in which our understanding of each other came to the fore in full mast. It was uncanny how we could anticipate each other's movements and actions. Not that we conquered many peaks, but there was tremendous satisfaction at our own combination, even in our losses. If the opponents were better, they were. That's it. 

Our real challenge of each other was in Cue sports, meaning Billiards and Snookers. We went hell for leather at each other but with utter subtlety on the green baize. And it was a see-saw! My heart swells with pride when I say that when we were at the table, a crowd used to form to watch us executing the finesses. Oh! Those were the days! We were considered the best by all in the Institution. But overall, he was a few notches better than me in Snookers and I, a shade better in Billiards.

 And then the Billiards and Snooker Competition came up. That’s when I came face to face for the first time to a kind of fixing. Now there was this fellow who took it upon himself to organise the cue sports without taking part in it himself (to explain that, would be a massive digression). In the draw for Billiards, he put us in different halves, but in Snooker, he put us against each other in the first round. Why he had to do that baffled and disappointed us. He had nothing to gain from the looks of it. I tried to tell him about seeding and all that, but he remained unmoved. Even to some others who tried to reason out with him, he was adamant. Point to note is that the draw was made by himself and not by a team.

 Well, as the tournament progressed with Billiards first, Sam, as we all called Sampath, lost in the second round. It seemed then that I stood a good chance. So, I told him, "Sam, in Snooker, I will give you a walkover. But you must promise me to win the Snooker cup, irrespective of where I stand in Billiards". Sam, by the way, is a kind of a shy introvert. Never an aggressive type. So, he just half nodded. Sam progressed comfortably in Snooker. The finals of both Billiards and Snooker were held on the same day, with our Commandant and his entourage in attendance. As it would have it, I won the Billiards championship beating a fire-breathing Uppal, a rotund, jovial Khalsa, another coursemate of ours and Sampath won the Snookers! I regret I do not remember who came runner up to him. That didn't seem important. Sampath's winning was all that mattered.

 After the prize distribution, Sam, Prasanna, Mac (Machado) and I who were a gang already (a 3 : 1:: Bangalore : Madras combination), hit the bar to celebrate. And we did. At last, it was time to stop and go home to our new wives of a year or two old. They were not yet used to the vagaries of their husbands. They, however, had no interest in two guys pushing some stray balls into some random pockets with idiotic looking rods on a stupid looking green table foolishly for hours on end - so dull - and thus never came to watch the coronation. On hindsight, Thank the Lord for that!

 I realised that I was too fuzzy to ride my Vespa. Sam took the key from me, and I clung on as pillion. Prasanna and Mac were dishonest. They didn’t admit to their conditions. Prasanna said “wheeeee” and took off at break-neck speed on his Vespa. Mac on his Lambretta reached home but took about half-an-hour to get it on its stand as per Millie, Mac's adorable, but at that point a consternated, wife! Prasanna barely managed to escape an unsuspecting military truck which breezed on to the main road from behind a wall. The startled truck driver of a Jawan managed to brake in time in the middle of the night. So, Prasanna is alive to read this, if he cares. Meera, the tall and stately Mrs Prasanna, broke into a cold sweat when the story was told. Sam, ever the cool guy, took me home safely to my nonchalant wife and walked to his nearby house, to a bewildered Pammy, otherwise a giggly and happy-go-lucky Mrs Sampath.

 Years later, much after our retirement, I was fortunate to meet Sam in Bangalore, wherein we all re-joined for Mac’s daughter’s wedding.

 If I feel sad on any one's death to such depth, it is Sam's. He passed away soon after the joyous occasion, due to kidney failure. His match got fixed, unfairly, too soon.