That brotherhood thing

Super Sunday was all about brothers in arms. I'm talking about brotherhood, real and created out there on the field. Irfan and Yusuf Pathan were of obvious interest because of the star roles they've played in this tournament so far, and because this was the first time they actually played against each other. A slightly interesting phenomenon in cricket, because most of the brothers we've seen (the Flowers, the Waughs, the Chappells), have usually played on the same side. There's plenty of sibling rivalry between brothers, of course, but somehow watching them play against each other adds an added layer of tension to the match. Like watching the Williams sisters play a Wimbledon final, for instance. You can't help but feel for them both. It's an unfair task, requiring sportsmanship at the highest level, to be able to separate blood ties from team ties.

Brotherhood isn't always about blood, though. When Ravi Bopara hit 84 for the Punjab XI, and won Man of the Match, Kevin Pietersen was the first to acknowledge his English team-mate's efforts (even though he was on the losing end). When they're sitting on the bench with nothing much to do, Matthew Hayden and Glenn McGrath often shoot the breeze, even though they're sporting different coloured team shirts. On Sachin Tendulkar's birthday the entire Indian cricket team surrounded him and smeared his face with cake. That's what brothers do.

One of the most interesting phenomena that has emerged from this tournament has been the unlikely couplings between young Indian bowlers and foreign captains. I'm talking particularly of Shane Warne and Kamran Khan, and Pietersen and his trio of bowlers - KP Appanna, Vinay Kumar and Pankaj Singh. Despite language and cultural barriers, they seem to have formed genuine mentoring relationships, which are quite endearing to behold.

I noticed yesterday that both KP and Warne held it together terrifically, even though things were slipping away fast. They tried not to show too much emotion when someone dropped a catch or let a boundary get away, clapped and gave encouraging shouts throughout, jabbed fingers, tapped shoulders, and when one of the young stars finally delivered, they allowed them to leap jubilantly into their arms like a tree-hugger and ruffled their hair, and slipped them a pink doll (no, that comes later).

I really think that the restriction of four foreign players per team is one of the best things about the IPL. It gives young Indians a chance to prove their mettle in an international arena. More, it allows for these unlikely brotherhoods to blossom. Little Swapnil walking onto the field with the giant that is Graeme Smith. Curly-headed Kamran sitting next to spiky-blond Warne. I think, as well, that these youngsters would find it almost impossible to find this same kind of mentorship with seniors on their own national and state teams, simply because if you grow up in India, the terrific presence and awe that someone like a Sachin or a Rahul Dravid throws is immense. And it works in reverse too. I'm sure young David Warner is learning all kinds of things in the Delhi Daredevils camp with Virender Sehwag.

You're happy to tell the stranger on the bus the story of your life, but there are some things you'd never tell your own brother. No matter how much birds of a feather flock together, sometimes it's just nice to hang out with a kangaroo or a hippo, or a pink doll!