MATCH REPORTS
DIARY
OTHER SPORTS
SLIDE SHOW
PEOPLE
ARCHIVES

Toronto revisited

The Sahara Cup is a homecoming of sorts. When I came to Montreal first, I'd never dreamt of watching or playing cricket.

Cricket used to be a kind of partitioner between afternoons and nights in India. Here in Canada, days and nights seemed to be never-ending. My circadian rhythms seemed to be lulled for want of a clockmaker. I remember once watching a pre-Ashes report on a BBC news clip. After seeing cricketers talk and play for two action-packed minutes on the clip, I felt a bit weak.

And then, in the slightly chilly September of '96 came the Sahara Cup.

I remember a cousin and I had driven down to a military air field in Toronto early on the morning of the fourth match, from where they had special coaches running to the grounds. It was the most amazing sight. A couple of hundred Indians and Pakistanis were milling about at the air field. I know it sounds silly, but my hair literally stood on end and life suddenly had a new meaning to it.

Everyone was smiling. The bus driver who was Canadian, had a curious, confused smile playing about his lips. So many people, passion written all over their faces. This, to watch a game that he'd heard could end in a draw after 5 days in the sun. If Bernard Shaw had met him that day on the bus, they'd have become lifelong pals.

In '97, our trip was more organized. A friend of mine and I were to get press passes from Cricinfo (www.cricket.org) to cover the match. We were more than a bit excited.

The Toronto Cricket and Curling Club ground in North York is a picture. Holding about five thousand, it is the right size for a Canadian cricketing enterprise. The day of the first match last year, it was the true cultural island. People had driven in from across the border. Toronto even otherwise is pretty cosmopolitan. It was more so that day. I remember from '96 a license plate which proudly said BHARAT.

The security personnel at the ground had similar expressions on their faces as our driver from the previous year. But, they'd begun to enjoy the atmosphere. Proximity to cricketing exhuberance had affected them. My friend got his press pass immediately on arrival. I'd some difficulty getting mine. So, for the time-being, I settled into a seat in the stands next to the TV commentary box with a friend who was a neighbour from good ol' Calicut (Kerala).

We spotted Akram, looking even bigger than usual in a light yellow suit, in the commentary box. Shastri came out with an ESPN crew member, left hand seemingly in readiness to be waved at the crowd at the smallest urging. He loves the spotlight, and the crowd warmed up to him. Cricketing audiences sometimes have short memories. A few years ago, he might have been booed.

Play started a bit late because of overnight dew. The Indian batting never really took off except for a nice little stand between Azhar and Jadeja. Azhar Mehmood always bowls well in Toronto, and seemed a shade faster than a year before. He holds a lot of promise. Saqlain I thought bowled better in the second match, but got more wickets in the first.

The Indian bowling had a new look to it. Srinath was recuperating, and Prasad and Kumble were being rested. The pasting in Sri Lanka had taken its toll. Mohanty had bowled decently in Sri Lanka and was being persisted with. Kuruvilla was the senior partner in the new new-ball combine. Mohanty was getting huge, late swing. Kuruvilla was steady as ever. Anwar was gone in a trice, clean bowled by one that swung in through the gate. Mohanty was to bother him a lot more in the matches to come. Anwar's strokemaking isn't suited to swinging conditions. He has to play a lot less square of the wicket to counter swing.

Kuruvilla was fielding on the boundary and I shouted a 'How are you?' in Malayalam. He ignored me completely. I felt a bit miffed.

But as the Inzamam incident later showed, he was just being prudent. After a bit, I went up to him and asked him how everyone was in Alapuzha. He nodded a they-are-okay nod. I felt a bit better.

Mohanty continued to trouble everyone with his late swing. Meanwhile, I'd got my press pass too. The press box was a motley collection of people. Some knew their cricket. There were some, like the Toronto Star correspondent, who knew close to nothing. The Star had a picture of Ganguly the next day, with a caption claiming it was Jadeja -- not that any of its readers cared.

He kept asking us the scores and reported live at regular intervals. When someone got out, his face registered some concern. There was G. Vishwanath of The Hindu, there was the Aaj Kal sports correspondent as well. I asked Vishwanath whether he was R. Mohan. Rather stodgily, he told me Mohan didn't work for The Hindu anymore. I was thinking of asking him whether he was Lokapally. I am glad I didn't.

My friend and I were taking the stairs back up to the press box once when we saw Dravid come down them. We asked him for an interview and said we were from Cricinfo. He smiled a nice smile and said he'd have to ask permission. He said he checked the site often. He's someone you could easily spend an evening with. A very observant, perceptive young man, a bit different from your everyday cricketer, and hence might be a bit out of place in the dressing room.

Karim's another person who struck me as a bit different.

India won the first match with time to spare, and except for one brief, silken flurry from Malik, never looked like losing it. Someone in the crowd kept shouting Malik kithne rupye liye. Someone asked, Malik kahan gaye when he didn't come out to field in the second match. Some other friendly soul replied, Bhudda so raha hein. A bit of heckling, but generally in good spirit.

The next day during lunch, we caught up with Sir Gary in the members' area. Slightly stooping gait, grey hair. I could imagine him prowling the covers still. We asked him for an interview, he didn't seem to be impressed with the Internet in general. We didn't have much else to ask him. You're a bit at a loss for words when you see the greatest allrounder ever in person. It's a bit unreal. The second and only other question I could mumble was an enquiry about his arthritis. He glanced a bit strangely at me, and mumbled, equally at a loss for words, "It's OK".

Shastri was the next person we spied, sitting very importantly, on a couch. Of late he puts on a smile on TV, almost as if someone told him to. He hadn't got into flexing his facial features then, he wasn't smiling at all. He almost predictably, denied an interview. We let him be.

As we went on to the ground itself to get a few snaps, we saw the Haryana Hurricane, Kapil Dev himself. He was wearing a kurta suit, and had this dark blue suit on top of it. We paused for a photograph in front of him and spotting us, he stopped talking and said "Photo", and immediately Romi who was with him and a third person stopped talking. Kapil gave us his broad Palmolive smile. He remains a humble man. Such humility is the true mark of greatness. It is rare. It should be cherished.

In the second match, there was a short innings from Dravid. Admittedly, I'm hugely biased when it comes to him. But, he really is a sight to behold. There's something about the man that inspires confidence. Neatly ironed shirt-sleeves buttoned down to the wrist, pads clinging to his legs in perfect harmony, not a spot of soot on them. There was one particular turn off his legs, great power generated off the backfoot, Saqlain I think was the bowler.

Every shot he played, you felt he was doing a subconscious appraisal of himself, only willing to play it, if it were of the finest technique and style. He should learn to be less severe on himself. He has to give more free rein to his instinct. Only then will he flow.

We met Larry Gomes during the lunch break of the fifth match. He works in Toronto now, I believe. He didn't look very different from his playing days. I remembered that Lord's innings with Greenidge. I remembered a few on spinning tracks in India on his first tour. I'd thought he'd be a more serious person, for some reason. Maybe it was those gritty, ground-out knocks. He is the friendly, easy-going sort. He agreed to an interview, but, unfortunately, something came up and he couldn't come.

The Inzamam incident I won't elaborate on. Cricket should never be tainted so. During the post-match press conferences, Rameez was quizzed about it. Rameez was a bit too jovial about his not-knowing-English part I thought. Maybe he was put too much on the spot and couldn't help it. On the whole, the Indians who came to the post-match conferences looked more relaxed. The Pakistan group didn't seem very united. Once, Haroon Rashid was spotted at the back of the room and was asked to come up front. Nothing succeeds like success.

Tendulkar was asked why he didn't use Ganguly that much in matches past. He smiled and said he was his secret weapon. Ganguly gave a small shy smile. He has the soulful look of a poet. I didn't see any of the supposed Maharajah persona. Maybe he has mellowed.

Someone asked Tendulkar what he felt about the Aussie proposal for 4-innings one-dayers. He said he hadn't read about it. Feeling a strange rush of passion, I said from behind the room, "Cricket's a simple game. Its greatness lies in its simplicity. It should never be complicated."

I felt like Mahatma Gandhi on the Dandi march. My friend was acutely embarassed at my sudden babble.

Me, I am waiting for September, with a spring in my step.