Papayas are people, too.

Yay. We set a world record. Highest WC score. Biggest WC win.

Except, we’ve always been butchers of bad bowling. Except, Bermuda’s batting is so inept, England and Sri Lanka had them for under a hundred, and even Zimbabwe knocked them over for less than what they got against us.

Sure, we did what we needed to. But our batting IS mighty, it really is. Against an attack like Bermuda, a huge total was always on the cards. And we should have blown them away for far less. The bowling looked patchy and unprofessional.

For me, only Yuvraj Singh and Sourav Ganguly seemed to promise a good show against the Lankans. Sehwag and Tendulkar need to find something more special than bullying the likes of Dwayne Leverock and his merrie men. They’re great batsmen, and well may.

And the bowling needs to be far better if we’re to take on Sri Lanka on Friday, and, hopefully, the other big boys in the Super 8 stage.

But for now, it’s been a good comeback to stay alive. Make it count, boys.

Here are the final winners of the little known sideshow from the World Cup which hands out prizes to guys who look like other guys.

The Rameez Raja Lookalike Contest – Asad Rauf.

The Waqar Younis Lookalike Contest – Aleem Dar.

The Marcus Trescothick Lookalike Contest – Simon Hughes.

The Evander Holyfield Lookalike Contest – Dwayne Leverock, Anderson Cummins (tie).

The Alec Stewart Lookalike Contest – Paul Nixon.

The Vladimir Putin Lookalike Contest – Nasser Hussain.

The Darth Maul Lookalike Contest – Charu Sharma.

“What a stupid world.” Readers of The HINDU may have seen today’s ‘Calvin and Hobbes’ end with those very words.

What a stupid world.

A man respected and loved for enriching our beloved game in so many ways will do so no more. We are poorer for it.

Bob Woolmer gave us Hansie Cronje’s South African side of the 90s. They thrilled us with their near-impossible fielding skills, their fearsome efficiency (yes, it’s a virtue that must be admired, let no one tell you differently), their ability to make winning seem matter of fact. They were so good, we quickly grew to hate them as much as we hate the Australians. Now that’s something.

Bob brought science and method to the forefront of the game – and showed cricket teams how they could win on bad days. How they could excel even if slightly short on God given cricketing gifts. There is no team in the world today that has not been touched by his wisdom in some way. In numerous interviews and articles over the years, he impressed us with his thoughts and views on the game and how it should be played. Always thoughtful. Always interesting.

Make no mistake – Bob raised the bar. Just watch videos of matches from the years before his arrival, and you’ll see that this is true. This alone guarantees him a place in the pantheon of cricket’s most influential men ever.

Now he’s gone. Just like that. In his worst cricketing hour. It’s as if he decided that he’d had enough, and simply left. Without a thought for what we’d do without him.

There will be reams written about his contributions, his successes and failures, his methods and theories. I’d rather dwell on something else.

On the night of his death, there was the usual flurry of telephone calls, messages and e-mails between my own circle of cricket fans. And every single one of us agreed – this didn’t feel like something that was happening far away, in the world of newsprint and TV. No, this felt like we had lost a friend, someone we had spent time with for years.

Why did he have to die like this? Why now? Wouldn’t it have been easier if we could have read about his passing in a quiet corner of the paper, years after he had faded from public life?

In India and Pakistan, we claim to be passionate about cricket. Is it passion that drives us to believe that we’re within our rights to destroy someone’s property? Is it passion that motivates us to put so much pressure on somebody that they can die from the stress? Or is it madness and evil? Anger and stupidity? Ignorance and fear?

What a stupid, stupid world.

This has been an exciting, thrilling world cup. A tie. Six sixes in an over. So-called minnows playing terrific, joyful cricket. Some great fielding. Sporting wickets.

So, we should be enjoying this right?

Oh, no. We’d much rather burn effigies, rant and rave like diseased baboons and ,quite illegally, seek retribution by destroying private property. Because our team played badly and lost a game. A game.

You know what? I didn’t do my job well today. I missed a few deadlines, and made a few spelling mistakes. So go ahead, burn my effigy. Stone my house. Threaten my family. You have the right. No problem.

And when you screw up something, which you doubtless will at some point, I will do the same. I’ll break your car’s windscreen. I’ll burn your family photograph. I’ll call you names. I’ll call your family names. I’ll throw rocks at your house. And I’ll be sure to bring Dhoni and Kaif with me. They’ll be glad to join in.

This way, we can both win. Or lose. What’s the difference?

Keeping awake is hard. Especially if you’re like me, and won’t risk the Red Bull type drinks. Some tips for dedicated cricket watchers to fight drowsiness, especially during dull periods of play.

1. Eat light. A heavy dinner is a sure-fire way to miss the second session.
2. Potter around. Walk around the house every now and then. Adjust a lamp. Wipe a surface. Open the fridge, peer into it and close it again.
3. Switch off the mosquito repellant. The little buggers will take care of keeping you awake, I promise.
4. Comics work for me. Exciting stuff like Lone Wolf and Cub, not more sedate stuff like American Splendour.
5. Do like Inispector does – mute the ads. You’ll be surprised.

Okay – I’ve now played my part in the official TV coverage surrounding WC 2007.

Headlines Today did a feature earlier tonight about World Cup blogs – and featured both Papayas are People, Too and Son of Bosey on it. I got to let off a few words and sound smug. Fun. People who saw it will now think I’m more famous than I really am.

The show was pretty kind to me – they featured the blogs pretty prominently, and said some nice things. And, importantly, they called me a ‘Young Man’. I am indebted.

Also, the programme featured the online prediction game cricketology, which is great fun. Sign up and play. You’ll see.

We have nominee number 2 – the ridiculous Apache ad with the faux wildlife documentary feel. This is a goodie. I can just hear the creative team making the pitch : “Let’s have lots of cars painted like zebras, being pursued by a guy on a bike in the middle of a vaguely African jungle. We can have a self-conscious narrator do a pretentious, lame voiceover so that it will look like a pathetic attempt at creating a wildlife documentary atmosphere. And we can end with a random babe and the biker giving each other hot looks. That’ll KILL ‘em.”

A great representation of all the characteristic features – stupidity, wastefulness, lameness – of classic Indian bike advertising. Well done, agency bizarros. You suck galactic.

Am I mistaken, or is this the first world cup to feature three players called Dwayne?