Back Balaji Express now running D. Murali
IT'S okay if you're as dumb about cricket as the now-mandatory add-ons on TV talk shows on the game, but you perhaps know that `Rawalpindi Express' is not running here. And that `Balaji Express' is not a new train that Lalu introduced in his recent Rail Budget or the one that runs between Mumbai and Tirupati. Also, please don't ask for a plate of `Bajji,' because he's busy bowling in Kolkata. Yes, we're talking nicknames! Of Shoaib, Balaji and Harbhajan, assuming that you know the `Little Master' Sunny, `Master Blaster' Sachin, and `The Wall' Dravid. There are more such: Warne is `Hollywood' because of the attention he attracted in 1993; Jason Gillespie is `Dizzy' because of a common surname with a trumpeter; crowds love to chant `Zulu' when Lance Klusener comes in to bowl. "Apart from helping journalists produce pithy headlines, why do we give people nicknames?" asks Andrew Delahunty in his new book, Goldenballs and The Iron Lady, and proceeds to answer: "A nickname often neatly sums someone up, providing an instant shorthand biography." Thus `Barnacle' was how Trevor Bailey was called because of his tenacity at the crease. The `powerfully built' Ian Botham takes the names `Beefy' and `Guy the Gorilla.' Clive Lloyd came to be known as `Big Cat' because of "the lightning speed of his fielding and explosive power of his batting, both belied by his relaxed manner and loping walk," as Delahunty explains. South African-born English cricketer Robin Smith was dubbed `Judge' because his chums thought his hair looked like a judge's wig. The English had a `Cat' Phil Tufnell because of his habit of taking naps during the day; you'd learn from the book that the name dates back to August 1988 "when he neglected his duties as the twelfth man by sleeping through the whole of the morning's session of play." Darren Gough was once `Guzzler' "because of his large appetite" but became `Dazzler' something that suits his "ebullient personality, lively fast bowling and cavalier batting." Derek Underwood was `Deadly' on account of his "accuracy and relentless consistency" in bowling. "Somewhat hunched, introspective style of batting" won the name `Gnome' for Keith Fletcher. Michael Holding was noted for his "smooth, light-footed run-up" but his pace was prodigious, and bounces, fearsome; he was called `Whispering Death' because "umpires used to claim they couldn't hear him approaching behind them." Blond-haired Allan Donald, another fast bowler, was known as `White Lightning.' Boycott was `Sir Geoffrey' to admirers, though informally he was `Boycs.' More than half a century ago, Australian cricket had the `Big Ship' Warwick Windridge Armstrong who weighed 22 stone (140 kg). David Lloyd was called `Bumble' either because of his cheerful and talkative personality or because his prominent nose was thought to resemble those of the Bumblies of a TV serial for kids in the 1950s, as the author posits. Though most of our cricketing icons don't find a place in this `little book of nicknames,' it has a host of other subjects. Such as politics, which prides of names such as Austerity Cripps, Conan the Republican, Butcher of Baghdad, Iron Lady, Milk Snatcher, Sir Shortly Floorcross, and so on. "Giving a politician a nickname closes the gap between them and us, and can be a way of poking a little fun at our public figures and cutting them down to size," suggests Delahunty. But when the political scene changes too fast, and we have CMs who quit within days, it becomes tough for us to get a hang of the personalities. And giving them nicknames may not seem to be a worthwhile effort.
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