MY
CRICKETING DAYS
Like
most Indians, I am an avid cricket fan, a cricket aficionado, an armchair
critic and occasionally a statistician. I remember many useless cricket trivia,
mostly from the 1970s and 1980s when our team was getting thrashed everywhere
in the world, barring the few purple patches in 1971, 1983 etc. I have picked
up enough technical jargon along the way to surprise and impress fawning
subordinates, who in any case are only too willing to believe in your greatness,
at least on your face. When somebody said on such occasions “Sir! You know so
much! You must have been a good player yourself”, I would preen and reply with
nonchalance, “yeah! I used to play for my college but did not pursue it later.”
Now that I have retired, I feel the time has come to let
the world have a few more glimpses of my illustrious cricketing past.
I spent my formative years in “Sapre wada”, a small
bungalow with a few latter day additions, in the company of the six Sapre
brothers who had devised their own version of indoor underarm cricket which
they used to play all the time, in their small veranda. As some doors
surrounding the veranda had glass windows, there were strict rules forbidding
any aerial shots. 3-4 of the Sapre brothers along with an occasional friend
were vociferously engaged in their quaint version of cricket played with a narrow
wooden plank and a tennis ball which was more often than not totally bald, which
I found very fascinating. We were the tenants of the Sapre family and lived in
an annexe. I was three years younger to
the youngest Sapre brother. Whenever I was free, I used to hang around with
them hoping to be given a chance to play which was not often. My idea of
cricket was attempting a big hoik at every ball while batting and hurling the
ball as fast as possible while bowling. So
my style was not compatible with the strict restrictions in force. When I
insisted on joining them, and when my dad, on rare occasions, requested them to
include me in their game, I was allowed to play for a while and kicked out
promptly when I infringed one of their ridiculous rules. What is the point in
playing cricket if all the shots have to be played along the ground?
In school, there was no place or opportunity to play
cricket. During the lunch break, we used to play hockey or soccer depending on
the season. We even had a devoted gang of marbles players but no cricket. My
interest in cricket was reignited by the inter university tournament held in
Jabalpur in the year 1970, when we were in our final year of high school. The
Mumbai team was led by a flamboyant, handsome and long haired Sunil Gavaskar who,
if I remember correctly, scored three tons in that tourney; and the Indore team
was led by the 6’4” tall Sanjay Jagdale. When these two teams made it to the finals,
it created quite a buzz in the staid town of Jabalpur. The ground where the
match was played was near our school. We were a dare-devil bunch of crazy
cricket lovers in 11A. We all decided to bunk the afternoon session, a totally
unthinkable move in our very old and reputed govt school; and watch the cricket
match. Imagine the chagrin of the school authorities when they found that they
were one line short in the post lunch prayer assembly. The principal was livid
and our class teacher had to bear the brunt of his wrath. The match was very interesting.
Bombay, expectedly, won comfortably. (Sunil Gavaskar went on to make his debut
in the Indian team immediately thereafter and the rest is, as they say,
history.) All hell, however, broke loose the next morning when we all reached
the school. (The really smart ones stayed away that day feigning illness.)
After the mandatory tongue lashing by the principal, we were left to the mercy
of our class teacher to do unto us as he deemed fit. And he did not show us any
mercy at all. After thrashing all of us one by one till his hands started
aching, we were given the punishment of standing on the bench for one whole
week. Imagine the entire section of 50 odd boys standing on their benches for 7
days continuously. It was a big pain but still well worth it. We also became
some sort of heroes for the rest of the student community, not only in our
school but also in the entire city.
In college, in 1971, when the Indian cricket was going
through a golden period when we defeated the mighty west Indians and the
pommies on home turf, we played our own inter class tournament. Here, some more
details are warranted. I studied in Agricultural Engineering College at JNKVV
Jabalpur. Our college started in 1967 and ours was the fourth batch. It was a 5
year course. Each batch had 35 seats. So after accounting for the casualties,
total student strength was around 120. 5 teams for 5 years. So, barring the
physically challenged and those rare species that were not bitten by the
cricket bug, almost everyone got to play in these hilariously played and
fiercely contested matches.
I was the opening batsman and opening bowler for our team.
Those were the days of the famous spin quartet. So, everyone was bowling off
spins (leg spin was a little trickier). We needed somebody to bowl the first
few overs till the ball lost shine. Since I had continued with my policy of
hurling the ball as fast as possible, I became the opening bowler by default.
It is a different matter that Prakash, our main off spinner, was faster than
me. The spinners came along after 4-5 overs. Even when I was having my brief
place under the sun, I was repeatedly told to roll the ball on the ground while
throwing it so that the ball would lose its shine quickly. While batting, our
side needed some scape goats to face the fiery trundlers of the opposition teams
during the initial period. After that the middle order, the guys who fancied
themselves to be ‘Vishy’ or ‘Tiger’, strolled in to maul the slow bowlers.
Hence, I was the unanimous choice for the opening slot. I rarely lasted the
opening spell. But I remember one match in which I was on fire and went after
the opposition attack which was quite ordinary, with a vengeance. After I went
past the magic figure of 10 runs, there were frantic messages from the pavilion to throw my wicket so that the
stars could join the fun.
Now we have to solve the mystery as to how I got to play in
the college team. We had an interesting character in our college called “Badde”(
i.e. elder brother in Hindi slang). He was crazy about cricket and a walking and
talking encyclopaedia on cricket. He appointed himself ‘captain’ of the college
team and went around challenging other colleges for many a friendly match on
Sunday mornings. After fixing the match, he went around looking for enough
players to put together a rag-tag team to take to the ground. My enthusiasm and
persistence paid dividends sometimes when he ran short of players. I also had
two distinct advantages. One, my house was a stone’s throw from Badde’s house;
secondly, I had a white shirt and white trousers ready on Sunday mornings. I
was normally number 8 or 9 in the batting order. So I rarely got to bat. (I had
continued to spurn all the efforts of Badde and others to teach me the right
‘grip’ and ‘stance’. Although Viru was not around then, I strongly believed in
his policy of hand-eye co-ordination only, and technique be damned). And, as
‘Badde’ himself was an opening bowler, I did not get a chance to roll my arm. I
was, however, a very active fielder and even took some catches at times. Other teams being much stronger; we
normally ended up playing the veterinary college team which was as bad as ours.
We had some really crazy guys and we played some really hilarious matches. As I
mentioned, this guy Badde was the opening bowler. At the beginning of the
match, when he opened the attack, he would stand at the beginning of his run
up, with his back towards the batsman. Then he would suddenly turn back and
start running towards the wicket. He had a long run up but neither the speed
nor the accuracy to be a serious threat to the batting side. We were often
deeply embarrassed when his deliveries failed to come anywhere near the wicket.
Once he hit the silly mid-off fielder on his rump. After that, nobody wanted to
field in close in positions when he was operating. We had another guy Kishore,
a lanky and gauche character, who fancied himself to be ‘Vishy’ and had more
mannerisms than Ian Chappel. Kishore would more often than not strut in to bat,
make a big show of taking guard, adjusting his pads etc and promptly get clean
bowled on the first ball he faced. To be fair, he did manage to play an
occasional elegant knock once in a while.
During these matches, normally the umpire used to be from
the batting side. So he was under strict orders not to concede any LBW/run
outs/catches taken close to the ground. Clean bowled and caught were the only decisions
given. Even then, I once had the ignominy of getting stumped by a mile when I
was deceived by a wrong one. In my memory, only once did I have the privilege
of hitting the winning stroke. Jubilant,
when I went to Badde, who was batting at the other end, to ask what stroke it
was, his reply was- that swipe could only be described as a Kanhai shot. ( You
may know that Rohan Kanhai of West Indies was famous for playing unconventional
shots). I was quite pleased to be bracketed with the great Kanhai and missed
the sarcasm completely.
As I was saying, I regularly played cricket for my college
eleven. I also played Kabaddi for my college. But that story is for another
day.
