Revealed: What went into the Kotla pitch.

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On Bored DDCA: Married to the mob

The Delhi Underground.

Today, 8 year old Vasu and I took our cricket rivalry to the basement. The pitch was ceramic tiled, far more even keel than the Kotla, and the lights didn’t give in like Eden. It was an advert for taking cricket indoors. And had our short duel been telecast, who knows what could have been.

Equipment was standard, tennis ball and a MSD bat. The pitch was around 25 ft; not a speck of grass. It was liberating to chuck ball after ball. I even played left handed, got caught in front like Sanath.

Our match was abandoned abruptly. It was my tea break. Vasu and I shifted to the England South Africa game; just seeing Ntini play his 101st test put me off. I asked the boy how his football was coming along? Clearly two abandoned games in one day puts your mind of cricket. Then why am I writing this?


On Bored: You son of a pitch!

Open.

I read this fan report by a 17 year old from my old school, St Columba’s. Fan claims he’s watched all the internationals at the Kotla for the last 8 years – that is, he started his Kotla journey at 9. At 9 I didn’t know where the Kotla was.

When I was around 17, I went for this net. Dhaiya the captain was bowling at me.

After a round in the nets, he thought I should open. One little snag though, I had to turn up for selection the next day after school.

I didn’t make the team. But then I didn’t go for practise either.

Delhi in my belly!

Delhi in my belly!

“Next time you buy free tickets, take me also!”

That’s Vasudev, who turned seven in March, and an IPL backer in April.

I had every intention of taking him for Delhi Daredevils’ first game at the Feroz Shah Kotla.

Fact is, I had every intention of taking a lot of people.

One guy backed out because he was watching soccer.

Others were either babysitting their kids or their wife’s guests.

Guess both take a lot of handling, and don’t come naturally to men.

Both cause a lot of men to miss a lot of games.

But not the guy who made it: he didn’t have any kids. He didn’t have any wife’s guests. Heck, he didn’t have any wife. Not yet.

Fits that his company is called Happily Unmarried then?

Anyway, the reason for inviting him was somewhat selfish. The three T20 games we had watched together (2 vs. Pak and 1 vs. Oz in the World Cup), we won. And the solitary T20 thrashing in Australia, we watched in isolation.

I assumed with master Happily Unmarried as company, the Delhi Daredevils would win too. I hadn’t realised that in the Rajasthan Royals, the IPL had the perfect ingredient for a successful tournament: a minnow.

First, everybody will bash the Royal’s up, and then almost Bangladesh like, they will upset all equations by beating the best team (as in the South Africa or chokers of the tournament). Imagine the surprise when Rajasthan Royals beat Kolkata Knight Riders. Where will Shah Rukh Khan and his wonderfully gifted entourage hide?

I looked for a red ‘n’ black tee. Not quite Delhi Daredevil gear; but then, I wasn’t prepared to invest in them as yet.

Of course that changed once I put on my red ’n’ black tee. I had taken the colour- combo oath – the full import of which kicks in when you’re on the ground. With McGrath, Sehwag and Vettori in the same colours.

They are one of you. You are one of them. It feels just fine. Put on a show for me - beat the hell out of royalty. Power to the masses!

But it’s a little more complicated. How do you reason Kaif being knocked over by a firang? Do you still think, a bad T20 club performance can effect his test chances? Or say, if Raina rocks, will he enhance his India chances?

Once the game starts though, you abandon all that muddled thought. You are sucked in by the partisan crowd, hell, you become the partisan crowd. You enjoy, for once, being just a face in the crowd. Being invisible in a metaphorical sea of red ‘n’ black. The red-black sea, eh?

The high point of the game is much delayed. It’s when Delhi’s icon player, Virender Sehwag takes strike – and blasts one straight over mid on. You realise, if you hadn’t before, you’re in Delhi. And Sehwag is Delhi, as Tendulkar is Mumbai, Ganguly is Calcutta, and Laxman is Hyderabad. Never mind about M.S. Dhoni and Shane Warne. They are something too: mercenaries?

Three balls and two more fours later Sehwag is out. Frankly felt like walking out then. But then, you don’t walk out on your team. No matter what.

So, I stuck it out. And though Delhi won handsomely, or rather, Rajasthan lost ugly, it wasn’t a great game to watch.

But then, when you watch 9 out of 10 games, prepare for the odd heartbreak, even when you win.

Later, long after the game, way past midnight, the Rajasthan Royal’s team bus was blocked off by an errant Delhiwallah’s badly parked car. After a bad evening, the Royals were now having a worse night.

Looks like we Delhiwallahs sure like to rub it in.