Tour Diary
Watching ... painfully
As one tries to make sense of what exactly happened in the cricket today, when Pakistan gorged themselves in batting heaven, one needs to spare a thought
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
As one tries to make sense of what exactly happened in the cricket today, when Pakistan gorged themselves in batting heaven, one needs to spare a thought. For a talented young batsman who had to spend 141.2 overs in the dressing-room, watching his team-mates plunder runs to their heart’s content. Poor ol’ Salman Butt.
He spent ten minutes in the middle, faced six balls and hit just one measly boundary while his gluttonous friends spoilt themselves with 86 between them. Obviously he was happy for them, but surely, at some point, he wondered what he could have achieved on this pancake-flat surface, masquerading as a Gaddafi Stadium cricket pitch.
Full postMore than magic
There isn’t much that Sourav Ganguly hasn’t done on a cricket field, but what he did around 2:20pm today was quite novel
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
There isn’t much that Sourav Ganguly hasn’t done on a cricket field, but what he did around 2:20pm today was quite novel. Here was a game that, barring a miracle of biblical proportions, could not be won. Here was India, in the opening Test of a crucial series, being butchered silly. Here was 668 runs conceded, shoulders drooping in every direction, morale trampled upon, and only a declaration to look forward to. And what does he do?
Misjudge a catch as Rana Naved-ul-Hasan lofted one over his head at mid-off. Fair enough. But wait, what does he do now? Keeps his eyes on the ball, back-peddle, extend his right hand upwards, realise it may be too late, propel himself backward and let the instincts take over. Sometime over the course of the next second, he must have felt the ball in his hand, and sometime during the next few milli-seconds he must have realised it hadn’t popped out.
And sometime soon, just for a few moments, he might have forgotten all that had gone before and all that is likely to happen later. He leaped, he pumped his fist, and he stood in his spot and celebrated as his team-mates mobbed him. It was a little more than magical. He had pulled the rabbit out of the hat, but importantly had done it without he himself knowing he would.
Full postOh hundred, my hundred
The moment that a batsman reaches an important landmark always assumes an importance at a cricket match
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
The moment that a batsman reaches an important landmark always assumes an importance at a cricket match. Some spectators anticipate it with a rhythmic clapping; others watch attentively, sometimes nervously. Those outside the press box usually make sure they’re in place, jotting down the details. The fielders know it’s a time to cash in on the tension; the batsmen knows the world of a difference that a hundred makes compared to a score in the nineties.
When Younis Khan was on 96 on the first evening, those at the half-filled Gadaffi Stadium watched expectantly. Those in the Sarfraz Nawaz Enclosure had already begun waving their Pakistan flags; those at the Javed Miandad Enclosure were already on their feet. Younis faced up to Irfan Pathan, bowling over the wicket, with Rahul Dravid stationed at a short straightish mid-off, not too far from the non-striker. Younis took a bit of time and surveyed the field. Pathan ran in – somehow he appeared a bit more charged up – and delivered a full-length ball on middle stump.
Full postEid with the Akmals
I had, with great difficulty, managed to get a SIM card during Eid in Lahore
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
I had, with great difficulty, managed to get a SIM card during Eid in Lahore. It had been a freezing evening, as we later found out, the coldest in 37 years. There was a piece to be filed, hunger to be satisfied, plans to be made for the next day. Barging into the Best Western Hotel, I headed straight to the lift and pressed the button for the third floor (when I actually had to go to the fourth), walked up the stairs, headed to the room and realised I had forgotten to collect the key at the reception. It was that kind of evening.
Down I went, collected the keys and re-entered the lift, followed by a bubbly lad, who appeared to be in as tearing a hurry as me. "Oh new SIM card? Where are you from? Oh India? For the cricket? Oh journalist? To cover the series? Hi, I'm Adnan Akmal, brother of Kamran Akmal, Pakistan national wicketkeeper." It was all too fast for me to digest.
Slowly the facial familiarity began to unfurl – similar face, sharp nose, pocket-sized body. He was here to meet Mansoor Amjad, a promising legspinner, and disappeared in a flash since a friend was waiting for him downstairs. In one minute, though, walking from the lift to Amjad's room, he showed his mettle: "Of course, I play first-class cricket. For ZTBL. Ya, I am also a wicketkeeper. We both love keeping. Oh, you want to meet Kami? He's at a team meeting at the moment, but he maybe coming home in a few hours. Actually no, he may not. You see, our mother has had a heart operation and he is very close to her. So he will be in the hospital. Some valves in her heart were blocked. Inshallah all will be fine. You want to come home? Sure why not. Take down my number. Call me anytime. Mansooooor …."
Full postDeserted outside, bustling inside
It's Eid and Lahore has shut shop - empty roads, hardly anyone to ask for directions, and no foreign exchange
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
It's Eid and Lahore has shut shop - empty roads, hardly anyone to ask for directions, and no foreign exchange. The Pakistan team hadn’t practised for the last two days; the Indians did so in a largely funereal atmosphere. Coming from a land where most occassions are heralded by loudness and bombast, it was a stark contrast. Having rarely stayed at home on holidays – either bursting crackers or joining the Ganpathy processions - it was a different feeling.
Indoors, though, is the place to be. The aroma of the biryani impinges on you the moment you enter and there is an unmistakable sense of something different – the spotless attires, the exaggerated 'Eid Mubarak', the overt embraces, the joyous chit-chatting ... The gulab jamoons tasted that much richer; the portions appeared that much bigger. And as if one hadn't been overwhelmed already, the hospitality was that much warmer.
Full postSad to happy, happy to sad
The Indians take a look at Imran Khan’s “biggest achievement” – the Shaukat Khanum Cancer Hospital
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
The Indians take a look at Imran Khan’s “biggest achievement” – the Shaukat Khanum Cancer Hospital. Imran reiterated that building the hospital had been the only reason why he had continued playing till the 1992 World Cup. He remembered India’s 1989 tour, Tendulkar’s first, and spoke about the benefit game that the Indians and Pakistanis had played to raise funds. He talked about the number of patients escalating and said they were planning to start another branch at Karachi. He hoped the Indians would like it.
They went in with smiles on their faces and came out pretty sombre. A witness to the scene described the scene aptly – "those who were fit and hearty became sad; those who were really suffering became happy."
Full postEnd of the mad, bad world?
A stone-throw away from the Gadaffi Stadium is the National Cricket Academy
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
A stone-throw away from the Gadaffi Stadium is the National Cricket Academy. Security personnel abound guarding a setting more resembling a mini castle than a cricket institution. Considering the deluge of raw talented cricketers in these parts, the NCA can only be a good idea. Growing up on tales of Tauseef Ahmed and Javed Miandad being hand-picked from gully cricket, one was drawn towards Pakistan’s premier grooming centre.
As the Indian side went through their net session, it was interesting to watch the local net bowlers helping out in practice. One doesn’t get to bowl at the likes of Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid every day, and there were some fiery young men going flat out against the world’s best. More pace led to more waywardness. So they tried harder, made their run-ups longer, got faster, and, inevitably, got waywarder. In short, all was well with the future of Pakistan fast bowling.
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He described the nature of the problem, why it was occurring, what side effects it could lead to, what injuries it can trigger, how one could overcome it and what sort of gym work one needs to do to solve the issue. The boy listened with rapt attention. Hopefully he will hit the big time.
Full postA different sort of leggie
A legspinner brings with him a certain allure; more so if he's Pakistani
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
A legspinner brings with him a certain allure; more so if he's Pakistani. Abdul Qadir blazed a trail, Mushtaq Ahmed followed suit and Danish Kaneria carries on the tradition.
Nineteen-year old Mansoor Amjad wishes to be spoken of in the same breath. He never saw Qadir bowl and missed watching Mushtaq in his prime but the power of television, where he had Shane Warne for inspiration, kept the flame burning.
Full postDeep freeze
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
In 1955 India played their second-ever game in West Pakistan, at the Bagh-e-Jinnah ground in Lahore. They arrived amid much fanfare, especially since it was their first visit after partition. It's been fifty years, but greybeards insist that nothing much has changed. Under the British Raj, when it was called Lawrence Gardens, the annual Lahore Pentangular, a tournament held on communal lines, used to be staged here.
The ground still retains a pastoral look - different shades of green adorning the periphery; pickets giving it a park-like setting; the pavilion house picked straight from a hamlet. Unlike in first-class games, where spectators are allowed to sit behind the boundary line, the crowds had to endure standing all day, with close to 500 watching from behind the fences.
Full postForeign?
It’s been over 24 hours since IC 845 landed in Lahore
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
25-Feb-2013
It’s been over 24 hours since IC 845 landed in Lahore. Five days in Delhi, prior to take off, had groomed one for the Lahore experience – a shivering chill, broad roads, Punjabi attires, grassy footpaths, the Pakistan High commission ...
Usually, while visiting any country, the contrast immediately splashes on your face the moment one exits the airport. In Lahore, one looks first for the similarities and spots them pretty easily. Then occasionally, often unexpectedly, sometimes overwhelmingly, the difference strikes.
When do you actually realise that you're in a foreign land? The moment currency notes don’t fit in your wallet; the moment you don’t fit in the auto rickshaws; the moment you act really polite, as you instinctively do while in another country, and get gaping stares from the locals, who have not a clue that you are a foreigner; the moment the locals learn you are an Indian and numb you with their hospitality ...
Layer by layer, mostly when you least expect it, the difference begins to unfold. Therein lies a great thrill. The charm is in two-way discovery – when the locals find out that you are Indian before you find out their reaction. Whether it is a security guard outside the Bagh-e-Jinnah, or a shopkeeper at Liberty Market, there is a certain joy in introduction.
Full post