Why? Why? Why?

I was in high spirits, when I set foot in my house at 1.30 am when the news of Bob Woolmer's death delivered by Gotu changed it all. The joy of spending quality time with Sonu, getting a smart new T shirt, three audio/video CDs lost to an unfounded grief.Tears accompanied the shock as CNN IBN, Times Now and other channels beamed the blot from the blue. They were perhaps the same which resurfaced when Hansie Cronje died.But why? Woolmer was not my friend, nor a relative, nor was he an influence. Why was I morose? The mysterious death of "one of the finest coaches" in world cricket, of course, brought disappointment and shock. But my eyes sniveled past their expected quota.Was it mere shock? Or was it something else? Someone, I knew, passed away on hearing about Woolmer’s demise. A little someone who lived, slept and ate cricket in his childhood days, who jumped with joy on every Indian victory and sobbed when the country lost, one who dreamt of becoming a cricketer all through his school and college life- he could never fulfill it though.The cricket fan in me finally succumbed. The fan was ailing and had been on a life support system ever since the betting scam first came into life scalping Hansie Cronje. Why watch and herald a sport that can consume lives? I announce my retirement as a cricket fan. Sad…sure I am... but I guess retirement is better than being dubbed a murderer.India and Pakistan lose to small sides. Who are chiefly blamed for the defeat…an aussie and a brit. People burn their effigies, vandalise players’ homes. A sight not uncommon in the subcontinent. Is this sport or are we at war. Is the team playing the ‘War’ Cup? I no longer aspire to be called a ‘die hard’ cricket fan. Ab Tumhare Havale Cricket Sathiyon.Woolmer: You will be missed.