Cricket is not a sport, it’s a passion,

Thanks Dad…

My father the man who introduced me to the game of cricket, died more than three years ago, ironically my last conversation with him over the phone and across continents was amongst other things about cricket, I remember him asking me from his hospital bed, “do you think India will win on the tour of Pakistan” and I replied, yea get well soon so that you can watch Shewag plunder the Pakistani's on their home turf. Unfortunately my father didn’t live long enough to watch the upcoming series, as I often put it in cricket jargon, my dad was run out. (More so coz I believe he died due to extraneous factors just like what happens during a run out.) A Crazy analogy, but its true, my father’s passion for cricket was inherited by me and I am proud of it.

Cricket runs through my blood and controls my actions more than I can imagine, waking up at 4 am just to watch cricket is insane especially after you slept at one am after a long days work, but you still do it. There are days when I don’t even read the newspapers coz I cant read about India losing a match.
My memories of cricket honestly run back to 1985 and not 1983 when India won the World cup, I was just over two and don’t recollect much, I don’t think we even had a television back then, but I have heard a million times how happy my father was and how he bought sweets and distributed it amongst all his patients and staff (my father was a doctor).

1985, India the World Champs were in Australia playing the world series, matches would start at 4 am, and I would wonder why my dad and sometimes even my mother would wake up and sit before the big black and white box (they called a tele) over copious amounts of tea and cigarettes and cheer for the sport. On most occasions I would be up with him, sitting by his side, amazed at the color clothing and white ball (even though we had a black and white TV, my father did remind me that in world series they wore colors, a concept still alien to cricket which was primarily played in whites)

By the end of the tournament India beat Pakistan in the finals, Ravi Shastri was declared the Champions of Champions and was gifted a sliver Audi, the images of the entire cricket team riding on top of the brand new Audi were priceless and are etched in my mind for all times to come. That was my initiation to the sport, and I had passed the test, coz my father rarely ever watched another match without me.

I move on to 1986, the dreaded day when India was again playing Pakistan in the finals of the Australasia cup at Sharjah, my father was chain smoking, he was stressed and so was I, Chetan sharma was bowling the last over and it finally came down to the last ball, one ball and Pakistan needed 6 off it, an improbable but no impossible task, my dad though still tensed was convinced we would win, but Javed Miandad had different plans, Chetan sharma bowled a leg side full toss and Javed hit the infamous six, images of Javed running back to the pavilion, arms raised and running like he had conquered the world were the last images I saw on a tele for the next two years, coz my dad broke the tele with his ashtray and stormed out of the house. I was left teary eyed and broken, but my father was a shattered man. Cricket did have its sorrows too.

1987, the Reliance world cup had started, and it was time to put all aside and concentrate on cricket, my father would spend most of his times at the Club where he would watch cricket with his mates, I was confined to following cricket over the radio, (since Javed’s six we still didn’t have a tele). I think it was the second week of the tournament when my father came home one afternoon and found me glued to the radio, following every ball in the words of the radio commentators who were, now when I look back extremely useless yet funny.

I don’t know what happened to my father, but he was rather upset all afternoon and by the evening we had a brand new 21-inch color television, (a rather expensive luxury back in the days), I was over the moon, I was a 7-year-old boy whose cricketing dreams were just being fulfilled by his father. (It was only years later that my mum told me that he had secured a loan to buy that tele) (that television was though broken in 2003)

Between 1985 and 1988, my love for cricket was fuelled by my father buying my first cricketing gear, bat, pads gloves, ball et al. I don’t know where he got the money, (he was an under paid government servant), but he did. Not only that, but being a government servant, (and among the few perks) we lived on a sprawling estate once run by the British servants, there was a huge field which was duly converted into a cricket field, a pitch was created, and considering that the only time I could play cricket was after school and study sessions and by the time the sun had set, my father even installed lights so that I could play when it was dark.

It was my father who taught my how to hold a bat, I was a natural bowler, who couldn’t bat to save his life, but by 1987 I was plundering batsmen too, who enjoyed his batting and modeled himself on Krishnamachari Srikanth, the maverick mad cap in the Indian team who loved hitting boundaries.

Over the years I made it to the school cricket team, as an all-rounder and then a selfish captain who was sacked by the coach for trying to hit a six when all the team needed were two runs and getting out in the process. But that’s of irrelevance here.
1988- 1991- I don’t remember what happened but I guess India’s loss to England in the semi finals of the Reliance World cup in 1987 put my father off cricket, for three years I don’t think my father watched any cricket and neither did I, and suddenly the sport of choice was football, the 1990 football world cup was followed with the same love.

1989 Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar made his debut against Pakistan and I missed it, coz cricket was no longer a passion, it was shelved.

1991- My father by then had been transferred out of my hometown and I was living with my mum and out of the blue one October morning I rediscovered my love for cricket. That was also the first time I saw Sachin bat, like a dormant giant, like Russia’s invasion of Georgia, my love for cricket found its home. I spoke with my dad over the phone and realized that he too was glued to the tele, even though India lost to Pakistan yet again in the finals, the love for cricket was here to stay.

1992- Cable television was the new big thing; door darshan the Government run channel was deprived of its rights to telecast the 1992 world cup. Father was home and duly cable television was installed and used to watch all the matches. (India lost yet again, but beat Pakistan in the round robin matches,)

1992-1996- Father being a doctor was by 1996 appointed by the BCCI (Board of Cricket control of India) as a medical advisor, which meant free tickets to matches, and my first tryst with a live match was at the Mecca of Indian cricket, the Eden Gardens. The year was 1993 and India was hosting the Hero Cup. India had qualified for the semi finals against South Africa and I was there, awestruck and dumbfounded I found my self in the stadium speechless. Sachin bowled the last over and India snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.

The finals were a different ball game, India beat the West Indies and we were the champions. What a moment, Eden Gardens lit up with firecrackers and joy all around. Images that can never be described or forgotten
1996- The World cup was back, and my father had tickets for all the matches to be played in India, I was in my 11th grade and had exams round the corner, duly enough my father wrote out a medical certificate claiming that I was suffering from typhoid and thus had to be excused from school and the exams, and so I found my self traveling across the country watching all the matches of the world cup live. It was fantastic, a month on the road, watching every possible cricketer perform on the biggest stage of all.

Two matches stand out, the India -Pakistan quarter final at Bangalore, Ajay Jadeja launching Waqar younis for six’s and the ball that got Aamir Sohail out. India had set Pakistan a stiff target and Pakistan came out all guns blazing, hitting the Indian bowlers to all parts of the park. Aamir Sohail took a special liking to Venkatesh Prasad, hitting him for consecutive boundaries. It was after one such boundary, Aamir Sohail mockingly pointed his bat towards the boundary, gesticulating to the bowler that no matter where he bowled, the result would be the same. Everyone was livid including the bowler I am sure, Prasad came running in for the next ball and Aamir tried to play the same shot only to realize that the ball had crashed into his off stump. For me that was the high point of the World Cup, in fact the high point of my life, watching the ball of the century live, I can proudly say I was there.

But it all came crashing down a few days later, when India played the then marauding Sri Lankans in the Semi final. On a dirt track, India were outclassed and screwed over more by the pitch and the decision not to bat first on a rank turner after winning the toss, the crowd couldn’t handle it and pandemonium broke loose, bottles were thrown onto the field and stands were burnt down, I stood crying with my father as we watched Vinod Kambli walk back to the pavilion crying inconsolably. The match was abandoned and Sri Lanka was awarded the match and again I was there.
Later that night my father and I were sitting at Calcutta airport crying, a sight I must say.

Life moved on, my father retired and I moved to college, India kept playing and kept loosing more than winning, but we watched and talked about cricket over the phone.

2003 World cup, India made it to the finals, they played brilliantly but came up against the Mighty World Champions Aussies in the finals and were trounced, my father again broke the television which was bought in 1987 and I spent my evening sitting on the streets of pune crying not for the tele but for the fact we were so close yet so far.

2007 ICC 20./20 World cup- My father was long gone by then, but I really wished he was there to watch Sreesanth catch Misbah ul haq to hand India the world cup and a victory over its arch rivals Pakistan that too in the finals. The last time India had won a world cup I was barely 3 and the feeling was unparalleled, I cried out of joy, I jumped, ran on the streets, hugged strangers, even went for the midnight celebrations at India Gate in Delhi. Moments of joy unparalleled and yea I missed my dad.

This morning India beat New Zealand after 41 years, another feather in the cap. Cricket has changed over the years, but my love and passion for the sport grows with every passing minute and I have just my dad to thank for the same.