“As far as this correspondent could remember”, reported ‘this correspondent’ of our company’s house magazine, “there has been no like of this cricket match.” “It will”, she continued, “go down in the annals of our sporting life
as a landmark.”
The magazine published a multicoloured photograph of our MD’s ‘magnificent hook shot’ and went on to describe his innings as consisting of ‘mighty fours’, ‘full-blooded strokes’ and several ‘cheeky singles’ – all adding to a total of seventeen runs.
The credit for incepting this annual cricket match goes to Mr. Bakwaswala, the Divisional Head of our sales department, when he was Assistant Sales Manager - as a mark of respect to our last British Managing Director, in his name. It was alleged by his critics that he owed his present position in the company more to his ability to discuss squash and handicaps in golf with his former English bosses rather than any worthwhile contributions to the organisation.
The teams for the match usually consisted of wily executives ‘oozing cologne, cockiness and confidence’ – as the pert copy of a magazine advertisement describes – who knewhow to bowl to MDs. But the crunch came when the greenhorn apprentice who just joined the company, was inducted into one of the teams. He was just out of the university and had been his univ’s strike bowler.
Not knowing the rules of the corporate world of make-believe, he had been bowling good line and length. His first ball – a short pitched one – nearly dislodged the MD’s spectacles without which, the ball and the moon looked equidistant to him. Not that the match was played in moonlight!
The myopic managing director peered uncertainly at the skies. Keeping his tubby frame erect, he opened the face of his bat and hooked the ball. Then, pirouetting on his axis, he placed the ball plumb on the fine leg boundary – or so he thought – and with his bat still raised, looked around expectantly for the applause. But only a stunned silence greeted him.
The first to recover from the embarrassing situation was the umpire, the head of the Customer Service Section. Hesitating only for a moment, he called a ‘no ball’, keeping in view his impending grade promotion, and once again upholding the eternal truth that if a Caesar could do no wrong, much less a managing director could be bowled out.
Taking his cue, the commentator – the brand manager with the staccato voice, stilted English and a phoney British accent – regained his speech and roared that that was a ‘magnificent hook shot’ repeating it six times in three sentences hoping that it would enter the MD’s ears at least once – as it was believed that the MD was short of hearing.
The commentary was for the players – as there were no spectators for the match and broadcast over a loud speaker. It served the same purpose as the performance appraisals conducted for our executives once in a while. The performance appraisals, by the way were introduced after Newsweek published the format of (the then) president of the US, Carter's evaluation of his executives.
All would have been well, except … … … the greenhorn apprentice’s second ball – the ball preceding the stunned silence and the cause for it – ripped the bales and knocked the MD’s middle stump cart-wheeling it six yards away.
The magazine published a multicoloured photograph of our MD’s ‘magnificent hook shot’ and went on to describe his innings as consisting of ‘mighty fours’, ‘full-blooded strokes’ and several ‘cheeky singles’ – all adding to a total of seventeen runs.
The credit for incepting this annual cricket match goes to Mr. Bakwaswala, the Divisional Head of our sales department, when he was Assistant Sales Manager - as a mark of respect to our last British Managing Director, in his name. It was alleged by his critics that he owed his present position in the company more to his ability to discuss squash and handicaps in golf with his former English bosses rather than any worthwhile contributions to the organisation.
The teams for the match usually consisted of wily executives ‘oozing cologne, cockiness and confidence’ – as the pert copy of a magazine advertisement describes – who knewhow to bowl to MDs. But the crunch came when the greenhorn apprentice who just joined the company, was inducted into one of the teams. He was just out of the university and had been his univ’s strike bowler.
Not knowing the rules of the corporate world of make-believe, he had been bowling good line and length. His first ball – a short pitched one – nearly dislodged the MD’s spectacles without which, the ball and the moon looked equidistant to him. Not that the match was played in moonlight!
The myopic managing director peered uncertainly at the skies. Keeping his tubby frame erect, he opened the face of his bat and hooked the ball. Then, pirouetting on his axis, he placed the ball plumb on the fine leg boundary – or so he thought – and with his bat still raised, looked around expectantly for the applause. But only a stunned silence greeted him.
The first to recover from the embarrassing situation was the umpire, the head of the Customer Service Section. Hesitating only for a moment, he called a ‘no ball’, keeping in view his impending grade promotion, and once again upholding the eternal truth that if a Caesar could do no wrong, much less a managing director could be bowled out.
Taking his cue, the commentator – the brand manager with the staccato voice, stilted English and a phoney British accent – regained his speech and roared that that was a ‘magnificent hook shot’ repeating it six times in three sentences hoping that it would enter the MD’s ears at least once – as it was believed that the MD was short of hearing.
The commentary was for the players – as there were no spectators for the match and broadcast over a loud speaker. It served the same purpose as the performance appraisals conducted for our executives once in a while. The performance appraisals, by the way were introduced after Newsweek published the format of (the then) president of the US, Carter's evaluation of his executives.
All would have been well, except … … … the greenhorn apprentice’s second ball – the ball preceding the stunned silence and the cause for it – ripped the bales and knocked the MD’s middle stump cart-wheeling it six yards away.
...................................................................................................................................................................
This spoof was written by a GLAXOINDIAN for THE CITY TAB, a Bangalore tabloid,
and was published in its issue dated October 19 – 25, 1986. It was
reproduced by some Blogsites in recent times.
