Looking up Down Under
A brave young squad of cricketers has rekindled an old flame for lapsed fans
Few cricketing competitions are able to revive the dormant fan in me, exhausted by the sound and fury of the hyperactive IPL. But India’s tour of Australia, which began unremarkably in December 2020 with an ODI series loss, evolved into an unforgettable Test tournament. When India were dismissed like kids in Adelaide against the backdrop of Kohli’s paternity leave, few would have imagined a mature fightback. And yet we saw a supremely disciplined Indian response, entirely devoid of theatrics, not far from the iconic Sydney Opera House. An example of the best of the sport, so often hijacked by annoying commentary, meaningless records and uninspiring contests.
A running joke
The big takeaway from the Test series was the emergence of virtually unknown players, replacing their battered seniors with skill and resolve. At one point, I was heartened to see the “familiar” Mohammed Siraj bowling – a veteran of three Tests. As if one needed any reminders for the big 40 approaching, here’s one – none of the heroes from my growing-up years of feverish cricket-watching are part of the team anymore. The era when TVs were switched off once Sachin Tendulkar’s wicket fell, exams were sacrificed at the altar of World Cups and Australia won the big competitions with monotonous regularity.
Such is my ignorance about the game I grew up loving that I was shocked to find a hobbling Hanuma Vihari not being allowed a runner in the Sydney Test – because the rules don’t permit such kindness anymore. Ah, the glory days of running mix-ups resulting in comical run-outs. If you’ll allow me my litany of memories, I also miss the era of packed stadiums (circa 2010); of watching every single ball of a 50-over match (circa 2003); and the complementary beauty of Imran Khan and Wasim Akram, cricketing and otherwise (circa 1992).
Don’t turn off the (flood)lights
I once was far closer to the game than these generic memories let on; there’s more than Old Monk and Camus in my misspent youth. I edited cricket websites around the time India won the World Cup in 2011 – a period marked by intense envy on the part of my cricket-loving friends, and low-grade existential questioning on my own. How is it that I’m eating kosha mangsho and luchis in the Eden Garden press box? And is this really me at an Enrique Iglesias concert at the opening ceremony of a T20 tournament in South Africa? And will I ever be able to get out of this Dhaka stadium, outside which thousands of fans have assembled?
Quite apart from the action on the field and the politics around the sport is the drama inside a press box, where the passionate, the ambitious, the jaded and the hungover come together between smoke breaks. In this classic male-dominated space, it’s both amusing and challenging to negotiate the dynamics as a woman professional. From the insight of veteran journalist Sharda Ugra to the proficiency of anchor Mayanti Langer, my respect for the tribe is immense.
IN THE CLASSIC MALE-DOMINATED SPACE [THE PRESS BOX], IT’S BOTH AMUSING AND CHALLENGING TO NEGOTIATE THE DYNAMICS AS A WOMAN PROFESSIONAL
The game of glorious clichés
Socially distant from cricket for many years now, it’s odd to see the old flame rekindled by this steely unit. Now that I’ve been lured back into the world of glorious clichés, however briefly, I’m allowing myself to dream. Here are highlights from my wish list for the sport, in no particular order: 1. A ban on stats like ‘Slowest half-century by a player born after 1990, scored on a Tuesday in rainy conditions outside the sub-continent.’ This one’s made up, but you know what I mean. 2. An immediate and universal consensus on DRS – especially the umpire’s call rule. Life is complicated enough without having to freshly ponder the issue every time an LBW decision is debated. 3. A ‘Thou shalt not state the obvious’ commandment imposed on commentators.
None of the exciting victories in limited overs cricket come close to the joy and pride in witnessing a tough Test improbably saved by a depleted team. I’m embarrassed by how inspired I am, long after all the action has concluded. Goes against all my carefully cultivated indifference. For all the masala of instant cricket, it’s the slow-cooked format that leaves the best aftertaste.