My first memory of cricket is from an era when every moving thing on a cricket field were in white and chased a dark dot in a rectangular area. At that time I didn’t under stand why the dark dot or the players never came out of the rectangular box. That was the time when I used to go with my father to a neighbors home to watch cricket on TV. The ball was not of the color red because the television those days did not know any color other than black and white. The neighbors’ television happened to be the only one in the village and was my first window to the world outside. It was the medium through which I was introduced to Hanuman’s super power, Arjun’s skill with the bow and an arrow, Amitabh Bacchhan and the film "Sholay". Those days newspapers were for the elite and a transistor radio was a prized possession.I was young and my world was a lot smaller.
After watching cricket, and without understanding what 22 people are doing, I used to come back home spread the mat I used to study on, imagine it to be the pitch and practice shadow batting and bowling without any bat / ball (15 years later I learned the phrase “shadow batting”) with two (unhappy) spectators in my elder sister and mother. The seed that was planted inside me 20 years ago has grown into a tree.
I first got a bat, handmade from a single piece of wood at my uncles, at the age of seven or eight. Possessing a bat was an advantage I abused because no game was played in my absence and more often than not I chose the place I bat. One day my bat developed a crack after a senior knocked a hard ball with my bat. At that time he was the person I hated most. The next few days were spent arranging cycle tubes and a blade for bandaging my most valuable asset. I also strapped the handle with the rubber to have a better grip with it to counter my sweaty palm. As I grew up, cricket was the only game I knew, played and thought worth playing.
In class four, we shifted home to a new place. Suddenly my every other neighbor had a TV set and the local news paper was readily available in the paan shop near my home. With the change in place, I lost the advantage of having a cricket bat as the place had a proper cricket team who played in hard balls. Young boys of my age were happy playing with partially broken bats and plastic balls. We would accompany seniors to the cricket matches to carry the kit and fetch the balls when ever it crossed the boundary. We were proud of it. When I learned to listen to the cricket commentary and read the paragraphs under the photos of a batsman / bowler in oriya newspaper’s last page, “Tendulkar” happened to be the most frequently used word. Although I hardly understood the English commentary, I could easily guess that they are talking of someone named “Tendulkar”. With time I learned to identify the players with their batting styles. Till then every one having a pair of pads and a helmet looked similar. Whenever the batsman ducked and adjusted his abdominal guard before taking strike, it brought cheers and a sparkle in my eyes. But at the same time it was accompanied by a sense of fear also because Indian Team’s fortunes were depended on how well Tendulkar plays the very next delivery. Every boundary Sachin scored made me feel that there is no better place on earth other then the small piece of area I occupied in front of a TV. I had an neighbor who had a curly hairstyle like Tendulkar’s and was of similar height and I boasted among my friends that I lived next door to him (he has changed his hair style since but height are still comparable).
Just before the world cup of 1996, Television made debut in our home in the form of a black and white portable Onida TV. That day I felt that I have fulfilled almost all perquisite of a cricket fan. Since then my mood in a match day fluctuated with the performance of the Indian cricket team. A bad performance from the team in losing cause had the ability to prevent me from taking my dinner. The gloominess would persists until I criticized the players in the after match discussion next day in school. At the same time an Indian win was considered and celebrated as a personal achievement. Sri Lankans were villain when India lost the semifinal to Sri Lanka in 1996 and I seriously thought Azharuddin was bribed to choose bowling after he won the toss. Seven months later Shahid Afridi was my hero when he blazed away to the fastest ODI century in Nairobi because he did that against the Lankans.
I have always felt a sense of personal satisfaction in the achievements of the Indian players especially that of Tendulkar, Dravid, Ganguly, Kumble and Laxman. These were the players I grew up watching and provided me a sense of pride for being an Indian. With age I matured and had better control over emotions. From a jingoistic cricket fan I was transformed to an admirer of performance. I rejoiced when Steve Waugh hit that brilliant 120 not out against South Africa in 1999 World Cup, hated Allan Donald for that run out and wanted to catch a cricket ball like Mark Waugh did to get rid of the Pakistani Opener Wasti in the Final.
In 1999, I was introduced to the word “Physics” and was immediately impressed when the subject had answers to the questions cricket had thrown at me. Soon I fell in love with the subject because it explained almost everything happening around me. I learned why Rahul Dravid keeps his bottom hand loose when defending a bouncer and why Wasim Akram wanted the ball to shine only on one side of the seam. “Bails” falling towards the batsman when he is clean bowled off a fast bowler was also explained. I understood why the fielder at point should be the best among the eleven and why he should stand squarer on a slow pitch. I understood why a fielder pulls his hands back while taking a catch. With more grasp on the English language I was exposed to the vast knowledge of the cricket commentators.
In the 2000s, Australia was the second “Pakistan” for me. Nothing was sweeter than an Australian defeat. But I admired and most of the time envied their dedication and commitment on the field. Under the leadership of Steve Waugh, a man when batting was like a monk, they were the team to beat. Laxman’s and Dravid’s innings in the March of 2001 imbibed self confidence in the Indian team and which I feel was the turning point for Indian cricket. The scar of that partnership and the new found belongingness of the Indian Team in the biggest stage were too much of a pressure for the Australians. They crumbled and wilted. Ironically Steve Waugh, who was considered one of the mentally toughest cricketer, was out in one innings “handling the ball”. Waugh was a cricketer I admired most. When he walked into the shades at the SCG in 2004 after being caught by Sachin off Kumble in his final test the cricket fan inside me was sad not because he had saved the test for the Aussies with a fighting half century that was filled with all the characteristics of the man himself but because I would miss him at short cover.
While the fan inside me improved day by day the player inside me made zero progress. That’s because I was destined to be a Chemical Engineer in an Oil Refinery but primarily because improving as a player needed much more effort than sitting in front of a TV.
The Indian team under Saurav Gangly reached the finals in 2003 World Cup and was beaten comprehensively by the brilliance of Ricky Ponting. We lost not because we lacked skill, but because we were in awe that we were playing a WC final and probably we were a bit surprised too.
8 years and 1 day later on 24th March 2011, when the ball raced past the cover fielder in Motera, the ghosts of 2003 were gone. Although the Semifinal vs Pakistan was not of the same class as that of the 1996 Quarter Final or the Centurion game in 2003 but the results was what every Indian wanted. The inspired performance of the bowlers and fielders revived the believe that we can win.
On 2nd April 2011 1430 hrs onwards, the “fan who loves good cricket” inside me will die a brief death and a selfish jingoistic Indian will cheer for the men in blue. I hope Sachin once again make the small area infront of my TV (this time it’s a color one) the best place on earth.
Do watch the match closely because some day you will proudly tell your grandchild that you watched the match live when India won 2011 World Cup Cricket.
(That doesn’t mean that Indian Cricket will not have any more moment of glory after 2nd April 2011 and till the time your grand child asks you “How did India win the World Cup 2011?”)
-rabindra-
