Riding on my bike or driving a borrowed car always gives me a high. I feel a sudden rush of testosterone in my body, a feeling which you can get when you realize that you are in control of a dangerous machine.
But mind is one good triple jumper, it hops twice before taking the final leap. The second leap of my mind was of a cricket match. A match where I was taking guard in the last over and my team required exactly six runs to win.
Suddenly, with the knob of accelerator in my hand and clutch fully popped, I saw the relation between these two thoughts. The road below suddenly became my pitch, where I had to stay in balance. The curator laid a pitch which is friendly for the host team (the team you are up against). On this deadly pitch I have to wield the handle in my hands to perfection. One slight misjudgment can break you completely. I still remember India tour of WI, India won 1st match of the 5 match series. 2nd match, last wicket, India requiring 2 runs off 3 ball, Yuvraj misjudged a yorker and the ball landed on the wickets, making a profuse sound of leather banged on wood. That sound was muffled in the noise of the crowd, appreciating the home team, but I guess it ricocheted in the minds of the Indian team as India lost 1-4 there on.
Accidents on the road have a similar effect, I tried to flay a man on the road with my bike, ended up in a hospital with a freshly stitched upper lip and cursing my misjudgment, and 'broken' to an extent that I did not drive the bike for almost 6 months (out of fear).
Once on the road, you begin to realize that you are playing against fielders with a class of Jonty Rhodes. probably these people, just like Jonty, have wings instead of hair in their armpits. They are every where, you cannot find gaps in between, they run at an atrocious pace and their only objective in life is to stop you.
Slowly you try to make yourself understand that cricket began with Test matches and the proceedings can be slow. So you adjust and play along slowly, and the opposition now tries to restrict your bat swing also - 'The Slips'. Looking at the yellow poles of the traffic signals you cannot help but remember Australian fielders, who would throw directly at your stumps, just before you reach your crease. I actually count the signals I find green, very rarely I hit a six.
On occasional intervals you find the field spread out and running between the wickets is not a problem, the wind in the opposite direction plays the trick, the ball starts swinging. While driving you notice that the traffic flowing in the 'opposite' direction swings towards you and just when you prepare yourself it swings past you. This is one feat only Wasim Akram could do at will, only he used to deal in inches not in feet.
The audience - just like in Jamaica, if a batsman gets caught in the slips or finds a lovely gap, they always rush on the ground, slowing things down, further.
You build up your innings with singles and doubles, finding gaps through various field settings, carrying the weight of the helmet and expectations on our head, constantly maintaining the focus, negotiating the turns and swings, keeping the judgment right and dodging the crowd, you reach to your team. And you can only say - What a Match