Read this article in cricinfo and it invoked many a sentiments:
There have been multiple phases I have been following cricket in.
Apart from the recent past, I observed that I had never watched cricket alone. Along with the advent of 20-20, this has been one of the major reasons cricket viewing has changed drastically for me.The advantage is definitely any match that happens in England. I immensely enjoy the deep discussions as well as bantering. Cricket as well as commentary definitely takes a very different form in the place where cricket was born.
But otherwise watching cricket alone is a dredge. Here are different phases in my cricket watching career:
Early childhood, I remember my Dad regularly stuck to the radio. I still remember that cold winter Divali morning when he woke me from my slumber and told me that India had won the world cup. I had started liking the game before I actually saw it being played. The whole Divali days my dad just talked about cricket and nothing else. He was always a very big and secrete fan of Viv Richards. There is a small anecdote about his cricketing abilities. Actually I never saw him play except once.This was years after the world cup win. There was a match between students and teachers in his school. The teachers were about to lose. Just like almost everybody, my dad also had made several silly mistakes. He did not run fast enough, fielded miserably and definitely a stark different between the quality of the two. He went in to bat 6 down.He started biffing the ball all around the park. When he eventually got out (and most prob lost the match), somebody compared him to Viv Richards. I have rarely seen him happier. He kept on the cricket hat till we reached home and carried around that Richards swagger for many days :)I do not recall much about 85 champions trophy-87 world cup. I sometimes sneaked in some television when I visited my rich friends. I faintly remember watching some moments of West Indian trip to India. But both, (the moments and rich friends)were few and far between. Though I remember Gavaskar scoring his only century in one dayers in his last one day match, and we losing it to England in the semis (most probably).
This era changed to very serious and dedicated cricket viewing when my uncle, who stayed just next doors, got a color television. We all, nephews and uncles got big kick out of watching channel 9 coverage of Aussie cricket. My uncle loved cricket but loved his sleep almost equally. We used to wake him up early morning(sometimes even 2.30-3.00 A.M.). He usually used to be torn between cricket and his sleep. We used try to tilt him toward cricket. I do remember watching Sachin's debut. This was India's tour to Pakistan. Srikanth was the captain and definitely at his nadir. Akram just killed him. Most probably this was the first time I saw a human being completely dismantled on the cricket field. It was a shame that a free spirited cricketer of Chika's caliber should face such a fate.And of course everybody remembers
The quality of cricket peaked at 92 world cup and maintained through till the 96 world cup. Most probably start of the golden era of cricket viewing (my as well as for the public in general, in my opinion). 92 world cup was played during my S.S.C. examinations. I couldn't view a lot of matches completely. But South African athleticism along with breathtaking telecast took this experience to a different plain. New Zealand tactics(Martin Crow-Mark Greatbatch's attacking cricket, Srikanth and almost every team failing to play Patel's spin in first 15 overs)and it going horribly wrong, Pakistan flair helped by generous dollops of luck.Jonty Rhode's athleticism(Inzy's run out especially)are some of the things I will never forget. This left a number of unforgettable images etched on my mind. But the most I remember are not happy ones. This can be called the theme of cricket. Its tragedies are lovelier than its triumphs. Somethings I do remember most vividly. Srinath's last ball heroics which triggered a comedy of errors where Venkatpathy Raju foolishly lost us a place in the semis is one of them. The South African tragedy of 1 run of 22 balls is the biggest. But the most interesting tragedy is the personal one. I had my last exam on the same day as the finals. It was geography, I think a smaller paper. I ran out half an hour earlier, as soon as finished writing the paper.I had calculated that I will still be able to catch half and hour of cricket where England will defeat Pakistan. But it was never to be. Half way to-wards home, I saw one of the regular cricket viewers walking slowly away dejectedly. I tried to stop him, but he just motioned me away. Pakistan was winning !! I stepped inside my uncle's house just to see final few moments where Neil Feirbrother was scratching around, delaying the inevitable. England had collapsed under the pressures of last innings dramatically. A recurrent tragedy in world cups was played again.Where England reaches finals just to lose it to somebody.
The next two years were pretty quiet, spent studying for HSC, make of break exam for the life. Cricket was even a lesser footnote during those times.
96 world cup came at the right time, just after I had settled down in PICT,first time in a hostel,first time away from home. We had only one television in the canteen. We used to gatecrash into the canteen every night. Everybody used to watch the matches very quietly in the beginning. But Once Sachin (and India) started to do exceedingly better, we lost control. Our strict administrator somehow overlooked the noise we made. It was as near as it can reach to viewing the match in the stadium. We used the tin covers of utensils as musical instruments, banging them together as loudly as possible. Quarterfinals with Pakistan was the match to remember. First half belonged to the final burst from Jadeja's blade. Second half was the Sohail-Prasad incidence. From the beginning something was amiss for the semifinals. We were restless and fought with each other. Despite the first over wickets, India allowed the Lankans to build back the innings. The disintegrating Eden Garden's track destroyed India's dreams in the second innings. Most notable picture for this edition? Indulger on song, Kambli in tears, Disilva masterfully guiding the run chase. This was the first time a team won the world cup chasing.
Then I moved to Bangalore and hit the golden age of cricket viewing. Abhya-Amya-nikhya-Ravi-mugz(reluctant)-Pad-Dina-gortyaa gang were the best companions anybody could have while watching a match. Many-a-times we watched it live at Chinnaswami. I saw Sehwag's debut, Kumble's 400 th wicket and a lot many events live.On the eve of 1999 world cup we went out and bought a television. (and a refrigerator). The cricket was sometimes exhilarating but the company was always !! Lara-Tendulkar discussions were as serious as Gandhi-Nathuram discussions. Match fixing was as big a black mark as was coffin corruption.
Slowly guys moved out, getting married one by one, jumping companies, making sense of their lives and those moments kept slipping though the fingers.
Now-a-days, cricket watching life has come a full circle. We, me and my Dad are the only ones following it together. We just have switched places, he do not *get* the 20-20 and I vainly try to explain it to him. He knows very little English, but sometimes delightfully understands the strategies discussed by the commentators as if by magic. Cricket has grown more aggressive and my viewing passion has actually mellowed a lot.
The cherry on the top will be if this full circle completes. My son will be almost of the same age in 2011 as I was in 1983.I will be almost of the same age as my Dad was then. If I could just say the same words that my dad said to me that morning "Bharataane worldcup jinkalaay", and initiate him in the family tradition of cricket watching, that will be a deservedly remarkable peculiar thing for this remarkable peculiar game.
