Soaking in Wanderers and SuperSport Park

My oldest memory of South Africa is from the mid-nineties - not that I came here then – and cold winter nights in India. It was the winter break from school, I would come home tired from a whole day of cricket in the freezing cold, get a nice hot-water bath, and watch India play Tests in South Africa.

Apart from how Venkatesh Prasad became a monster in those conditions, and how Allan Donald celebrated Sachin Tendulkar’s wicket more than he has ever celebrated any other wicket, from what I saw on TV, I remember how much the spectators enjoyed their cricket. The grounds seemed to have the right mix of character and comfort: the brick structures gave them an old-world charm, people on portable chairs on grass banks on sunny days made me want to be there. So from the moment I was told I was going to travel to South Africa for this Test series, I have been looking forward to visiting these grounds. What’s more, coming early has allowed me to soak in the Wanderers and the Supersport Park when they were empty, on cold, overcast days despite this being summer. Perhaps just to remind me of the winter nights back in the day.

What I saw on my first two days in the country has lived up to what I expected and more. I was not allowed to walk onto the playing area at the Wanderers, but I could imagine the Bull Ring effect when the stadium would be full. For a ground supposed to be intimidating, the grass banks seemed pleasant. I walked up the famous tunnel, and to the players’ balcony with the plush chairs. It is not a steep climb, but still takes an effort. From there I took a step down, then turned left, and then right into the tunnel. I walked down the 36 steps of the tunnel, and I realised how lonely those 40 to 50 seconds would be for the batsman. There was enough time for doubt to creep in, for the moment to soak in, enough time to contemplate success and failure, enough time to fly out of the present moment. Enough time I thought to wonder how bad it would feel to walk back up after a failure. With so much drama happening when nothing is actually happening, cricket can do with these pauses; dugouts be damned.

Thirty-five kilometres north was an even better experience, a ground as pretty as I have seen. The Supersport Park has vast expanses of grass banks, behind which are a few bars with wooden benches, and barbecues are not too far off. There are suites that are like houses, with viewing balconies both on ground floor and first floor. I actually don’t want to work here, just watch in peace. If that were to happen, I would pick the old hut around the square-leg area to watch from. It’s all wooden, and has a viewing balcony, but seems deserted. Wonder what purpose it serves.

I went and stood next to the pitch, looked down one end with stands down the ground, and the other with nothing behind the sight screen, just vast open skies. What kind of an adjustment would it be for a batsman? Or does what is behind the sight screen even matter when they are in the zone? I walked around the field, sat in the Captain’s Deck where Tendulkar would have upper-cut Shoaib Akhtar for that six. I walked to other third man, and sat under the giant screen where Virender Sehwag upper-cut Waqar Younis for the six that followed that six.

Sitting there I visualised what would happen when Dale Steyn - this is his home ground - would bowl to Sehwag, come the first Test. What I visualised doesn’t matter, in fact I leave you with two days to visualise what would happen, and also hope that India bat first so that we don’t have to wait for the contest.