“Out ‘ that was 100% percent out !!” AB my friend shouted as I made a desperate dive at the bowler’s end . ’ No I was in , one hundred and twenty percent in . Go jump ‘ . I knew I had just got my bat into the crease . I had my running shoes on , while some were playing barefoot and some were in their sandals or slip-ons . But everyone was fully enthusiastic and completely involved in the game . AB didn’t agree , his team-mates didn’t agree . My team-mates,as always, supported me . ‘ Ok boys , it’s your choice . Either you accept that I wasn’t out , or I’m leaving .’ “ Who cares if you go . We still have eleven players “ ‘ Ok fine then . I’m leaving , but WITH THE BAT . Ok ? ‘ This bat was a gift I got for my birthday , a bat made by the local carpenter with some vague logo stuck on the front but still it was a bat . And more importantly it was the only good bat available that day. ‘ As I started walking away from the ground , they had an emergency mid-pitch huddle and called me back , and the game continued . But I had won the battle . ‘ You guys are playing in the true spirit of the game , kudos ‘ I wish I had rubbed it in , but what would a 10 year old understand about the gentleman’s game and its true spirit ?
The ground was just outside the house . A lamp-post with a rounded cement base about half a foot high doubled up as the wicket at the batsman’s end . A white line drawn with a chalk on the rusted part of the pole was the cut-off for the height of the stumps . The bowler’s stumps – 3 small bricks piled one on top of another . Many fights and arguments would invariably ensue – the bowling team claiming that the ball did hit below the white line , while the batting team would say it was just over the line , with a special emphasis on the ‘ just ‘ . Same confusion for wides and run-outs . ‘ Heyyyyyyy, he just got in . I mean just , the brick fell down immediately after he reached ‘ while the fielding team would vociferously argue against . Every wide , every no-ball , every single would be fought for . I many times feel if me and my primary school friends had put that same intensity into studies , we would have all probably become CEOs of an MNC by now !!
Those days very few friends had a landline at home . The kind of landline which my 10 year old son J will never be able to understand . It had a round dial , and the numbers had to be physically dialled by turning it with a finger inserted into the appropriate number . I mean really dialled , not pressed ! Plus there were worries about the phone bills hitting the roof . So no phone calls for cricket was the rule at home . I and my brothers would run to the other houses in the campus , make a quick list of who all were able to join , divide into teams and enjoy a game of cricket . More often than not , we’d have enough numbers to have a decent game – inspite of all the ‘ just’ wide , ‘just ‘ run out arguments which was part and parcel of every game . Occasionally , Dad would join us too . He was the chief surgeon of the hospital , and the staff quarters where we were living had a sizeable number of kids . It used to be a bit embarrassing to have Dad joining us , coz he had a paunch and more importantly he was terrible at running between the wickets . But he was a great spinner . Neither me , nor my brothers , nor our friends could read his deliveries . That way he was a valuable asset . But for running singles , oh horrible . Running two’s – ahh don’t even think about it . His huffing and puffing would be embarrassing . Many a time after getting home , I and my brothers would discuss with Dad very seriously what went right or wrong in the game . If we didn’t discuss that extra wide or the unfair run out , the world would collapse . Some times Mom would interrupt ‘ You dad and sons , don’t you have anything better to discuss other than this cricket . I don’t know much about the game but I can assure you it’s not worth letting your meal go cold . Finish eating , then talk ‘ But it was difficult , we had to finish the discussion then and there . And sometimes Dad would bring in a bit of Hindi too , one of the six languages he was fluent in . He would just smile at her and say ‘ I know we keep discussing the game , but its so nice . It was and is great . Aaj ( today ) , kal ( tomorrow ) , and in future too I’m sure it will continue to be nice and enjoyable , especially if you have the right bunch of friends to play with. You know honey , there’s something about cricket ! ‘
As we grew up , our game improved . But we started becoming a sort of nuisance to the neighbours . Broken windows and glasses , flower pots , shouting , screaming and what not . Moms would send younger siblings to call their older ones back home . Oh how irritating it used to be , especially if you hadn’t yet got a chance to bat . And hitting the ball directly past the wall or if it touched the glass or the flower pot , that was an automatic ‘out’ for the batsman . No arguments here . No saying it ‘just’ touched the flower pot . Out . Period . And slowly Dad stopped joining us coz we were all too young and fast for him .
In high school and college , we switched to hard ball cricket . All padded up , with a box to protect the essentials , helmet , thigh pads and forearm guards . All protective gear was freely shared between the players . Could play shots all around the ground . No flower pots or glasses in danger of being broken here . Through the years in medical college , I and my friends managed to graduate as doctors too . And then a few years ago , on a temporary job in the UK , I got to play with a local cricket club, all thanks to a casual conversation with a friend VMB over a cup of coffee in the hospital canteen . He knew a colleague who owned and actively played for a club and within no time I became the club’s latest member . All friendly games would be played on a week day during the summer months when the sun doesn’t set even at 10pm . And the tournament league games used to be a full day affair on weekends . Again all pads, boxes , helmets and the rest . Could play shots all around the ground . Oh what a pleasure that was . To be able to try and hit all possible ground strokes , cover-drives , on-drives , flicks and the likes all around the ground without having to hit in the air unless it was a juicy full-toss , was a joy in itself . But few major differences here – all the protective equipment had to be your own , you had to carry your kit yourself to the ground for every match , plus one would need to be dressed in all-whites . Even too bright-looking shoes were officially not allowed . We even had to get our bats professionally ‘ tempered ‘ . It was a hefty fee of 10 pounds per bat . Thankfully I had only 2 bats . Some of my team mates used to carry five or six in their kits . And there would be an umpire , a neutral umpire . So no point saying I think I was ‘just’ in . Out or not out . Umpire’s decision . Period . Our home record was pretty good . But while playing away , we didn’t do that well . A few months later , when my wife and kids joined me there , I gave up cricket . Not because I didn’t enjoy the game anymore , but because I knew fully well that I would have to go back to India at the end of my job contract , and I decided travelling and exploring the UK and Europe was more important than spending time away from the family in a cricket ground . Coz I and my family may never get that chance again . And travel we did . Driving from UK to Paris was much easier and significantly faster than driving from Vellore to Hyderabad to pay a visit to my brothers and mom . In a 45 minute flight from London’s Stansted , I could land in a different country while a flight from Chennai to Delhi takes almost 3 hours ! In our short time there , we got an opportunity to visit about a dozen and a half countries . All by giving up on my cricket , something that would occasionally bother me . Slowly my cricket friends stopped calling me for games . The cricket kit was just lying dormant in the house .
I’ve now got back to India , but had to sadly give away my entire cricket kit when I left because we had too much luggage . All that remains as a cricketing souvenir from the UK is a pair of gloves . I now live in a new campus with three high rise buildings that has been provided for the staff working in the hospital . There is a nice ground which has a basketball court too . We have a whatsapp group , discuss who all are playing , see if there’s enough quorum , and what time to start . And we have a good number of staff who do join the games on a regular basis . We have all types –batsmen , fast bowlers , spinners , all rounders and not to miss out the ‘arguers’ who add that extra zing to the game . Many fit , some not so fit – like me . Aged 3rd decade to the fifth , but each one young at heart . Some may not have been born when i was playing hard ball cricket in college . Some are my friends who I have played with and against in college . No runs allowed on the leg side because there’s an area beyond the campus’ boundary wall where many balls have been lost . No pads or boxes or gloves here because we use tennis cricket balls . But everyone plays . We still argue about ‘just’ wides , and ‘ just’ run outs but so far nobody has threatened to walk away with the bat . I don’t think anyone will . We’re just too grown up for that !!
‘Papa , I’m going out to play with my friends ‘ J said as he was leaving . Carrying his entire kit with him which includes a set of stumps , bails , and a Decathlon bat . ‘ I’m sure all you grown-ups will play after we finish .’ I nodded . I watched him play from the gallery . He got hit for a boundary but came back strongly to pick up two wickets . And the same day during the grown-ups game , I had a bad time with the bat but managed to hold on to three catches , one a difficult chance so personally it felt good . Every kid on the ground had shoes on , one was wearing slip-ons , but none bare-footed – something I couldnt help but notice .
Years have passed . Times have changed . It’s now the millennium . The Gen Next . Bricks have been replaced by proper stumps . From calling friends personally either by running to their houses or using the ‘dialing’ landline phones , to smart phones and cricket whatsapp groups. From local carpenter-made cricket bats to factory-built BDM and SG ones . Red ball . White ball . Now Pink ball too . Stumps with flashing bails with a built-in microprocessor to see if the bails have lost contact from the stumps . From bare-footed sole marks to Nikes and Reeboks leaving their imprints on the ground . Cricket has had its fair share of controversies too including betting and match-fixing . But there’s a joy in being able to play with a good bunch of friends . The thought of having to give up on hard ball cricket and saying a goodbye to the local UK club doesn’t hurt anymore . Play and enjoy is the mantra , whether running between the wickets is a cakewalk or an ordeal , like it used to be for dad , and now for me . A friend recently fell down and fractured his shoulder when he dived trying his best not to get run out . I agree we’re getting old , maybe our legs can’t take us fast anymore , maybe our reflexes have all slowed down , but it is good fun . A lot has changed across generations , but one thing has remained the same . Cricket . A game of absorbing enthralling cricket . Appealing and arguing for wides , run-outs , no-balls and was it a 6 or a 4, are you a 100% sure is a wonderful experience in itself .
I don’t see myself joining my son and his friends in their game because he has his set of cricketing friends , and I have mine . But I wish Dad had played more games with us , and I feel sorry about being embarrassed whenever he joined us , all coz of his inability to run between the wickets . I have taken after him , running singles is just about manageable . Two’s is an outright ordeal for me . As I got back home that evening , I was seriously discussing with J his two wickets and was telling him excitedly about my three catches . My wife couldn’t make much sense of what was going on and with a big grin said ‘ I wonder if my son’s a 10 year old , or if his dad is . I don’t see a reason why you and your son can’t finish dinner first instead of discussing catches and wickets ‘ Unfortunately Dad is no more , I lost him to a heart attack three years ago , but I remembered him fondly as I answered with a smile on my face , ‘ Cricket is a lovely game . Aaj , kal , and in future too I’m sure it will continue to be nice and enjoyable , especially if you have the right bunch of friends to play with . You know honey , there’s something about cricket ! ‘
Nice one, Dan..