February 11, 2002

Some memorable moments

- Jonathan Dyson

Due to the thematic nature of each of my columns in the backpacker's diary, there have been various incidents, characters and discoveries from my time in India that so far haven't been mentioned. So today, in the penultimate installment of the diary, I have picked out a few of these memorable moments.

Balls up in Bombay

Another day in Mumbai, I found myself browsing through a sports shop just across from St. Xavier's High School, where I came across one of the controversial SG balls. This has been used in Tests on Indian soil for the last fifteen years, and its raised seem has helped spinners produce significantly more turn than with any other ball. Indeed Amit Varma, in Wisden Asia Cricket , writes that "The SG ball has played the lead role -- and been the only common factor -- in every single series win India have had in the last decade and a half."

Evidence comes in the form of Anil Kumble's "non-SG average", which is just under 40. So why is this ball so effective for spinners? The owner of the shop picked a ball off the shelf, and let me have a close look. Yes, the seam is noticeably more prominent than on other balls, and certainly felt different in my hand, as I placed my normal grip over the seam. He explained that the balls have such a prominent seam because they are handmade. They are produced by a small company of just three employees, who make two or three balls each day. And, because of their rarity value, the shop owner can't actually sell any to the common public. Shame.

Bollywood hit for six

During my first trip to Mumbai in November, I saw the magnificent film Lagaan at the impressive Eros cinema in Churchgate. Before entering the cinema, I stood outside for a while, trying to decide which area to buy a ticket for. Noticing my hesitancy, a man walked straight up to me and exclaimed: "You must watch Lagaan from the upper tier. I know because I have seen this film fifty times." In the end I went for the lower tier because it was cheaper, but all the same it was a wonderful experience -- a film that is in turn moving, funny and exciting, watched by an audience who enjoyed it as though it was a live one-day international. Every boundary and wicket for the home side was applauded, and there was constant, hysterical laughter at the exaggeratedly English mannerisms of the away team. Everyone left the cinema in celebratory mood. I could have been at the Wankhede.

Murali, Warne eat your heart out

One thing I didn't expect before I arrived here was that I would actually play so much cricket. However, it didn't take long for me to realise that walking through the maidans and streets of places likes Mumbai, Calcutta and Madras means being invited to play in all sorts of games of cricket. Perhaps the most memorable of these took place in Ahmedabad. As a group of us were returning from a restaurant on the evening after the final day of the second Test, I was invited to play in a game of "day-night" street cricket outside the hotel. Never have I found batting more difficult. Using a hollow, plastic ball, each bowler, with just a causal flick of the wrist, was extracting prodigious amounts of turn. Both ways. On a flat wicket, this is hard enough to cope with, but on a bouncy road on a dark evening with just a dim street lamp providing light, it's nigh on impossible. Clearly, foot work was of the essence, and now and again I managed to come down the wicket (street) and drive the ball straight through the covers (nearby garage). Never have I received such heartfelt applause.

From an athlete to a Test star

While I was in Madras I visited the MRF Pace Foundation run by Dennis Lillee. Established in 1987, this academy has helped several Indian bowlers, including Venkatesh Prasad, Javagal Srinath and Tinu Youhanan. It also provides coaching guidance to overseas players -- Glenn McGrath, Brett Lee and Shoaib Akhtar have all attended the base at some stage. When I was there Lillee had just arrived for a two-week session with the latest crop of promising pacemen. They had come from various places, including Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Nottinghamshire in England. Also there was Tinu Youhanan. This young paceman undoubtedly represents the foundation's biggest success story. As a seventeen-year-old who had shown great promise as an athlete, and who had hardly touched a cricket ball before, one day he turned up at Lillee's camp. Despite a horribly wayward action, Lillee could see some potential, and after four years of hard work, modifying his action into in the process, he was playing a Test. It gives hope to any youngster looking for a way into the game.

Best view in town

Later on in that same week in Madras, I watched the fifth one-day international at Delhi. No, not on the television in the house where I was staying, nor even at a local bar. In fact I saw the match on the big-screen recently installed at the Chepauk. The game was being shown for free, to increase publicity for this new addition to the stadium. As I sat in the Anna Pavilion, with a group of around hundred local fans making a constant racket in the Essar Stand to my right, I had the best of both worlds. Replays, statistics, commentary and all the other advantages of televised cricket -- and a live atmosphere. And the crowd were just as sporting as they were for the Madras one-dayer, even producing applause when the screen provided the unremarkable news that Darren Gough was playing in his hundredth one-day international. The only down side was that I was the only English fan in the stadium, so whenever England took a wicket, in the midst of a sudden silence round the ground, I would feel a little embarrassed as I jumped up out of my seat, punching the air and shouting "get in there" at the top of my voice.

What's the score?

During the Singaram Trophy match I saw in Madras, I met a young man who quite possibly has the perfect job. Since the company he works for has closed down, he has found part-time employment as a cricket scorer. Working three or four days a week, he is paid to score at various local matches. As he diligently compiled the scorebook with his different coloured pens, he explained to me that in order to score in certain tournaments in India, you have to pass exams, and adhere to strict rules. I had noticed before, during the school games I saw in Mumbai, how the scoring in India is done with such love and care, making sure that details like whether each batsman is left or right handed are recorded, along with the bowling action of each player. Scoring is not taken as seriously as this in England. It is seen as a dull, laborious chore and the reserve for old men in their retirement. Anyone who does enjoy scoring is seen as rather strange. The care taken over their work by scorers in India is perhaps another sign of the deep respect Indians have for the game.

Widening the horizon

While reading Lonely Planet before I arrived in India, one fact in particular took me by surprise: 75 per cent of India's population live in rural areas. As a Westerner constantly provided with images of India's urban poverty and chaos, it was particularly startling. It also seems at odds with the common breeding grounds that have existed throughout the history of Indian cricket for its Test players -- the great majority have come from the major cities. Now, however, largely through the widening influence of television, more and more players from rural areas are playing for India. Of the current side, Harbhajan Singh, from Jalandhar in Punjab, S S Das, from Bhubaneswar in Orissa, Virender Sehwag, from Najafgarh, on the outskirts of Delhi, and Mohammed Kaif, from Allahabad in Uttar Pradesh, have all emerged from unfashionable cricketing outposts. And although I didn't venture into rural India, through the regular, lengthy train journeys I couldn't help but notice the amount of cricket being played in these areas. Everywhere, boys were playing cricket - by rivers, in empty fields, along narrow, dusty streets, in fact anywhere with enough space for a short run-up, a pitch, and a swing of the bat. I even saw one game taking place in Shimla, just south of the Himalayas, on a railway track. If enthusiasm for cricket in these areas can be further tapped, the results could be phenomenal.

A woman's game

In Madras, I was taken by a friend of my host to PS Senior Secondary School, to see the presentation of the PC Sekhar Memorial Cricket Tournament. Presenting the trophy was former Test player VB Chandrasekar. He provided a stirring speech in which he called for the tournament, currently played over thirty overs per side, to extend to fifty at least. Later, huge cheers went up from the hundred-or-so school pupils looking on as both the trophy and individual prizes were presented, and most of all for the head of physical education at the school. This was followed by the national anthem. Again, it was just another world from England, where displays of such pride and cheering for a teacher are rare to say the least. Afterwards, I got chatting to the star of the final, twelve-year-old Abhinav Mukund. With him was his proud mother, an extraordinary character who displayed a remarkable enthusiasm for her son's exploits, filling me in all his statistics, regaling stories of a hat-trick he had taken earlier in the season, along with his ten centuries, and also telling me about the great time he had while playing cricket in Kent in England last summer. I had noticed before how keen many women are on the game in India, certainly more so than in England. The recent Test series and one-day internationals attracted crowds that are unheard of in English women's cricket. And, as I have discovered, not only do women enjoying watching the game here - they talk a good game as well.

GE Features

Backpacker's Diary archive

Mail Jonathan Dyson

Illustration: Bijoy Venugopal