As I’ve mentioned previously, the primary reason for this trip was to watch some good Test match cricket in Delhi, and hopefully Sachin Tendulkar’s last game for India. Or at least that’s what I’m telling everyone.
I’ve seen a lot of special moments on cricket fields around the world, but I’ve only twice watched a game on Indian soil.
The first time was the 1984 Irani Trophy, in Delhi, in which I saw a young Mohammad Azharuddin score a match-winning unbeaten half-century for the Rest of India. A few months later he went on to make a phenomenal entrance on the international stage. Oh, and there were the likes of Vengsarkar, Kapil Dev, Gavaskar, Shastri, Sandhu, Sandeep Patil and countless other big names. Of course, since I could count my age on my fingers at the time, I don’t remember anything other than the heat, flies and watching the players walk onto the field.
The second time was New Zealand vs Kenya at the recent World Cup in Chennai. Enough said.
Anyway, the first challenge was getting tickets for the game. My expected source of tickets was not in the squad for the game, and that messed with my plans. The only other time I’ve had to struggle like this for tickets was for the India-Pakistan game at the 2003 World Cup in South Africa. Couldn’t get a thing, and then on the morning of the game I had 6 tickets for 2 of us and couldn’t give them away!
This time around, there was nothing available online until a few days before the game. At that point a few tickets in bad seats opened up, but I still had all my contacts working overtime, so I didn’t buy anything. A day later, the good seats in the South Stand above the sightscreen opened up online, but before I could buy them, they switched to being sold out. As a result, I boarded my flights with no tickets lined up for the game.
It turns out that everything went into sold out status because good old Arun Jaitley hadn’t finished handing them out to friends and family. There’s an awful lot of politicians in New Delhi, and they all need to be taken care of. It didn’t help to hear stories of people in previous years buying tickets on a will-call basis, and then showing up at the ground to find that the ticketing booth was not staffed because of some holiday or the other, thus leaving them unable to watch the game.
In the end, it all worked out - in fact it more than worked out. I had good seats every day, including access to a box if desired, and even some spares to share with friends, our drivers and a couple of desperate strangers. It was a huge relief when I found out in Frankfurt that everything had been taken care of - after all, I was going to land in Delhi just 7 hours before the first ball was bowled.
After breakfasting alongside the umpires at the hotel, the first challenge was getting to the ground. Every route our driver attempted to take was blocked, and the Delhi Metro construction around the ground didn’t help either, but we eventually found our way to something approximating the entrance.
It was there that we ran into the famous Tendulkar fan who you see on TV at all India games, along with his up and coming Dhoni worshipping counterpart. Once I learned that the Tendulkar bloke (the one pictured below) is taken to all games within India at the BCCI’s expense, it was pretty clear what the Dhoni fan was aiming for! Credit to the BCCI here, incidentally - not only do they fund this guy, but they also fund Dharamveer, the disabled ball boy (and captain of India’s disabled team) to travel around with the players. Talking to Dharamveer you find that he’s simply a great kid who still can’t believe his good fortune - something that is really uplifting when you consider that most of us would take one look and think he had had anything but good luck given his disability. The human spirit really is something.
The Tendulkar fan in full body paint
imitation is the best form of flattery
Anyway, back on track, and the first mission was to get through security. It was clearly printed on the tickets that mobile phones were not allowed in the stadium, and so I had left mine behind. As I went through the first round of security along with the pat-down, the officer asked me if I had any coins in my pocket. Apparently they were cracking down on coins and pens, for fear that they may be thrown at the players. Phones however, despite the statement on the ticket, were permitted. As were the half a dozen apples we had brought with us. Because it’s clearly a lot easier to hit a player with a ball-point pen from 75 yards than it is with an apple.
We were seated in the shade, in the South Stand (the old clubhouse), with a perfect view of the pitch, and an even better view of the hideous monstrosity that is the new North Stand. I’d be surprised if the architect who came up with this ever gets a contract for another stadium again.
Explain to me what the architect was thinking?
We were right underneath the commentators, and right in front of the air-conditioned BCCI box, which was largely empty throughout the game, apart from a couple of player’s wives and Michael Kasprowicz. I quickly realized that the seats we were on were very narrow. Now that may work in stadia in China and elsewhere, but, with no offence intended towards the denizens of New Delhi, those amongst them who can afford the Rs.4000 tickets for our stand (That’s USD 80 for 5 days) are not exactly slight in stature. In fact, I saw some of the biggest young children I have ever seen. The obesity epidemic is alive and kicking in India. Scary stuff.
At lunchtime I was feeling thirsty and went in search of some cold water. It seemed like a fairly reasonable thing to want when you’re sitting in 100 degree heat, albeit in the shade. Or so I would have thought. The concession stand had none - only soft drinks were available there. Nobody could point me to a source of water, and it too a lot of exploration before I found a table at the back of the stand near the turnstiles on which I could see a bottle of mineral water. I won’t repeat what went through my head when the “vendor” asked for Rs. 10 (a quarter or thereabouts) for a small cup of water. Which was warm.
You walk around a ground like the WACA in Perth, and there is cold water and free sunscreen available at every corner (yes, I know it’s an oval...). Find yourself at the DDCA owned ground in Delhi, however, and apparently nobody believes that spectators might want to stay hydrated and cool. Absolutely pathetic. I’d love to see the 49ers try to charge people a quarter for a cup of warm water at their new stadium in Santa Clara.
And then just after lunch, the rather large gentleman seated beside us gets handed three bottles of clearly chilled mineral water, condensation dripping off the sides like it was a Sports Illustrated swimsuit photo shoot. We jumped up to ask where it had come from. “Not for you,” was the immediate response. Turns out the rotund individual was a big shot in the police force - clearly at a desk job and not working a beat, that much was obvious. For him, cold water could be found on demand. The rest of us would have to stick with warm cupfuls.
During the lunch break, I had noticed the scoreboard displaying SMS messages from people in the stadium. A little odd when you consider that every ticket says “No phones allowed” on it. It was the content of the SMSes that was most interesting though. Almost all were some variation of “My life is complete! Sachin looked straight at me”
If you’re not a cricket fan, you may not be aware of the sort of adulation Sachin Tendulkar faces in India. It’s so bad that he can only leave his house if he wears an elaborate disguise. Having been through this Test match and stayed at the same hotel as the players, I can safely say that there is no sportsman or celebrity on earth who has to face what Tendulkar does. Perhaps the most incredible thing I saw was the way the crowd literally moved with him. If he chased after a ball, 5,000 people would get up from their seats and run wherever they had to to be closer to him. If his fielding position moved, entire stands would arise and move with him. If you can imagine the crowd at a Manchester United game all migrating to one end of the ground because Ryan Giggs is back in his own area defending a corner; and then, en masse, getting up and running to the other end along with him as he embarks on a counter-attack - well that’s what Sachin Tendulkar has to deal with. Only it doesn’t stop inside the stadium. Unbelievable.
In general, it was apparent to me that the crowd was more interested in seeing and being seen than it was in the cricket itself. This may have been exacerbated by being in the expensive seats which is also where all the VIP’s, VVIP’s and VVVIP’s (this is India after all) are seated. There was a pair of camerman (each accompanied by a tripod-wielding assistant) in our stand, and while few people could have told you the score in the game, most could have told you exactly where the cameras were pointing.
The lack of understanding of the game was perhaps best exemplified by the pair of friends seated right in front of me on the third day. They had already attracted my (politely expressed) ire several times for standing up and moving about in the middle of play. Try doing that in Australia or England and see what happens to you! One of them asked the other what India had scored in their first innings. Had either looked up at the giant scoreboard, that number was displayed in the equivalent of 30-point font. Instead, the guy pulled out his Samsung Galaxy Note and went straight to Google. I swear I don’t usually do this, but I couldn’t help looking at what he was typing in. He started with “what is the score?”, and then progressed through “What did India score?”, “India first innings score” and “India first innings score Delhi Test match Australia 2013”. I’m not sure “fans” of this nature should be permitted to enter sporting venues.
Speaking of fans, the other great irritation was Gautam Bhimani. He’s a roving reporter for ESPN/Star Sports, and goes into the crowd to interview fans during the game. As far as anyone can tell, he doesn’t actually understand the game of cricket. This was made abundantly clear when he came and stood right in front of my father, blocking his view, in order to talk to the lady seated next to him. My father asked him if he could move, which I thought was a pretty fair ask. Bhimani looked absolutely stunned, which bemused me until the pair of clowns in front of me turned round and said to my father, by way of explanation, “But this is Gautam Bhimani, from the TV”.
Gautam Bhimani and his cameraman stayed in our section the whole three days. Irritating, to say the least!
All that said and done, the roar that this crowd generated when Sachin Tendulkar came out to bat for possibly the last time in International cricket was the most spine-tingling feeling I’ve had as a sports fan. An incessant crescendo of “Sachin....Sachin” with 20,000 people on their feet was matched only by the pin-drop silence when their hero was dismissed cheaply and had to trudge back to the pavilion. I’ve sat with 75,000 people baying for South African blood at the MCG, but this was something else altogether. TV doesn’t do it justice.
One final comment on the Kotla experience - the food in the stand. I only ate on one of the three days, because I was saving up for the quality dinners we had planned the other nights. Good decision. The day I had lunch, I opted for a Rs.50 chicken curry with rumali roti. It was tolerable, in the same way that the (Rs. 600) chicken curry with rice at the WACA is tolerable. Quite pathetic if you think about it! Though how can you complain about a one dollar meal?
Have to set up the Tandoor somewhere, so why not on the single stairwell leading up to the corporate boxes.
A note for the few cricket fans reading this -- it was perhaps telling that Tendulkar’s brother, Ajit, was at the game. Telling, because Ajit Tendulkar never watches Sachin’s games live, not even on TV. He is known to wait until play is complete, and then watch the recording without knowing any of the details. To break a superstition like that after 24 years has to suggest that there’s a good chance that my inside information was on the mark.