Tour Diary

India's favourite game returns to the Brabourne Stadium, one of the glorious old ladies of Indian cricket, and it is in some style that this is happening. Those fortunate to be watching matches at the Cricket Club of India will find it difficult to return to the Wankhede Stadium, where difficulty and inconvenience prevent good viewing, unless you're in one of those plush corporate boxes.

The Cricket Club of India is a far more attractive venue - it's stands are orderly and welcoming, a far cry from the concrete monstrosities that intimidate at the Wankhede. The outfield is superbly even, and the one complaint could be that the boundary ropes are as short as 65 yards at some points, and this might mean the spinners take a bit of tap. Then again, that's what the spectators love.

As I made my way to the Wankhede Stadium this morning, most of my thoughts centered on how Michael Hussey would bat.

It was the first time I was going to see him, Ponting and Symonds at a live game, albeit just a practice match. However, a few hours later with Shane Watson hogging the bowling I began to feel drowsy in the comforts of the air-conditioned press box.

So I decided to take a stroll and found myself in the middle of around 100 raucous fans (there were only about 500 in all) intent on proving that Indians could sledge too. Their favoured target: Ponting. "Remember 434" they chanted, "Gibbs is back" they roared. Ponting had fallen for 24, a sharp low catch at point. "It wasn't out, fight with the umpire" quipped the jeer leader, no doubt aware of Ponting's run-ins with officialdom. Someone even brought up that touchy matter of Ashes defeat last year and they chorused "Flintoff, Flintoff Flintoff".

As the Indians went through their paces at the Rajasthan Cricket Academyground, a couple of software engineers, stationed at one corner, went about setting up their equipment. From a distance it looked as if they were examining a drinks trolley but one needed to go closer to realise that this was serious business.

What they were actually trying to test was video-analysis equipment involving high-speed cameras. Designed by Play View, a company specialising in providing video tools in sport, and implemented by Eight Hills, a USA-based company, the machinery is one of the several infrastructural additions to the Rajasthan Cricket Academy, one that is expected to be one of the best in the country. The equipment allows one to capture footage and stores it in a database that allows for future analysis.

It’s one the most vital aspects of any cricket game and ironically it’s something cricket board officials across the country pay uniformly least attention to. While the lives of players have changed dramatically with decent wages finally being paid for domestic cricket, umpires’ fees and pensions being hiked, officials – though honorary – have prestige and power to show for their efforts, the scorers’ lot shows no sign of improving.

Here at the Sardar Patel Gujarat Stadium, there are seven scorers on duty. Two each at the press box, the official scorers’ desk and the main scoreboard, while one loner gets to man the small scoreboard. When we walked into the ground for the second game at Ahmedabad, the painters were frantically painting the last panel on the Zimbabwe team for the main scoreboard – Tafadzwa Mufambisi.

Makhaya Ntini doesn't usually walk, he bounces. He believes he's the fastest in the world, doesn't mind letting the world know. Ask him about the slower ball, and he says his job is to bowl fast; ask him what he's thinking when he gets hit for runs, and he booms, "I try and knock the batsman's head over". During the media conference in Delhi, he barged into the hall with bluster, almost challenging the awaiting pressmen to a duel. There's too much energy in him, and no sign of it drying up.

Shoaib Akhtar doesn't usually walk, he strolls. He too believes he's the fastest and doesn't mind letting the world know. Ask him about people comparing him with Brett Lee and he sniggers, "There's no comparison, mate"; ask him how he copes with so many injuries and he says, "I just wish I could get through one day of cricket without pain". During the same media conference, he casually walked in a good five minutes after the rest of the team and tried his best to stay inconspicuous. Obviously, he ended up hogging all the limelight and was soon whistling his way down the red carpet, taking a dig at his team-mates who were busy with interviews.

There’s something about cricketers. I have to admit, that one of the biggest apprehensions, as years of cricket journalism rolled by, was that I’d meet my heroes and they’d turn out to be awful human beings and my image of them would be shattered forever. It’s happened once or twice, when someone you thought was a legend of a man turned out to be merely someone who handled a bat well, and not much besides.

But still, I’m old fashioned that way. Just that fact that someone has played cricket at a high level, forget international – but a good spell at club cricket in a competitive league, or first-class – and you have me. I’d be glad to have a chat, preferably over a few drinks, at an old club, and listen to stories about games that took place when I was still in short-pants.

So imagine my surprise, when at the end of a long queue for accreditation – the efficient ICC desk at the Library at the Sardar Patel Gujarat Stadium was handling every pass issued, from media, to ball boys, to sponsors, to catering staff – was an unassuming man of average build, a letter in hand, quietly waiting his turn. “Myself Mukund,” was all he said, and to some of us journalists from outside Ahmedabad, this meant little.

The gentleman in charge of accreditations asked Mukund to wait till he was finished with the media, and off he went. There were plenty of niggles for the ICC to handle – improperly filled forms, forms that never reached, people who had wanted to collect their passes from one city but changed their minds later – and unlike the BCCI and its state associations, a majority of which act as though they’re doing you a favour by granting you accreditation to cover a game, every request was handled patiently and efficiently.

"Humbled, it was a humbling experience," muttered Imran Khan, the media manager for the West Indies team as he walked in to the Sardar Patel Gujarat Stadium in Ahmedabad where the West Indies kick off their Champions Trophy against Zimbabwe. Just minutes later his Zimbabwean counterpart showed up, muttering the same words, only adding, "I like this sort of thing. I'm going to keep this," he said, pointing to a garland he had been given at the Sabarmati Ashram for Mahatma Gandhi in Ahmedabad.

Before they arrived for the usual motions – net and fielding practice – the two teams visited the ashram, situated on the banks of the Sabarmati river. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi stayed at this very ashram for close to two decades, and left on a note that no-one can forget – the 240-miles salt March that he and 79 of his supporters embarked on. When he was looking for a suitable site for the ashram, and came upon the place it was located, Gandhi is reported to have said, "This is the right place for our activities to carry on the search for truth and develop fearlessness - for on one side are the iron bolts of the foreigners, and on the other, thunderbolts of Mother Nature."

The main attraction at the ashram today is "Hridaya Kunj", the hut in which Gandhi lived. In it you can still find some of the items he used every day – a writing desk, a khadi kurta, yarn spun by him, and even some of his letters. The players had a look around, and as you can imagine, the young children who were present when Brian Lara entered were rather un-Gandhian in their exuberance, and quickly the place was enveloped by excited chatter as the players mingled with the children.

Even as his team-mates walked back to the pavilion to get changed for the game ahead, Irfan Pathan remained on the field, bowling at one stump. After more than two years of being India's first choice new-ball bowler, he now faces the arduous task of regaining the team management's confidence, after a succession of insipid displays with the ball.

Greg Chappell, who has never shied away from expressing his faith in Pathan's allround ability, stood a couple of paces back and watched, and there was another interested onlooker. Jeff Thomson bowled a fair few miles quicker than Pathan in his '70s heyday, and was one half of a duo - a certain DK Lillee was the other - that decimated even West Indies at their peak. Chappell captained that legendary side, and had little hesitation in calling on Thommo's services with his pace bowlers struggling for rhythm and accuracy.

When India journey to the Caribbean next March in a bid to win the World Cup for the first time in a quarter-century, they certainly won't be lacking for support. The Desimators, a fan club based in India, have tied up with the rather better known Bharat Army to set up a Caribbean Resource and Information Centre that will help fans journeying across the world to support India. The two groups made the announcement at a press conference in Kuala Lumpur on Saturday morning.

The Bharat Army is now supposedly 62,000 strong, and made their debut at the World Cup in 2003. Established by Shailan Tank, Sukhwinder Nijjar, Harvinder Mann and Rakesh Patel, the army have been a regular presence at India matches since. The Desimators, who claim a membership of 2,000, came into being in September 2003 as a platform for fans to watch and support Indian sport. In addition to cricket tours of Australia and Pakistan, they have also been to Malaysia before for the F-1 race at Sepang. They were also involved with the organisation of the Bradman Cup, India's first Twenty20 tournament.

Down the years, the stereotypical Australian cricketer has been characterised as a hard-drinking, foul-mouthed bully. Such a perception is grossly unfair to many, and when you come across Stuart Clark, it's easy to see why such labels are half-baked and dangerously inaccurate. Clark is affable and soft-spoken, and in a suit, he would have no difficulty passing for the real-estate agent that he once was.

He also has one of the more intriguing nicknames in the game, Sarfraz, after Pakistan's reverse-swing king of the 1970s, and India will be hoping that he doesn't replicate the mustachioed wonder's performances if they face him on Saturday. In five one-day matches against India, the original had taken eight wickets at 15.50 and caused quite a ruckus with short-pitched bowling that prompted India to concede a game at Sahiwal in 1978-79.