Sunday, November 2, 2014

MY CRICKETING DAYS

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.