Cricket Fever ... where did it go?

There was a time, just a few years back, I loved watching cricket. Keeping scorecards and tallies were part of the normal routine in life. If nothing else, I would watch our neighborhood boys playing from my balcony(patio).

There would be at least 3 to 4 teams playing on the field. The older boys taking the maximum space of the field, the younger boys on a smaller pitch and the little ones on the colony road – my building was at the end of the street so the traffic was very low and from my vantage point atop the fourth floor, the view was fantastic. Of course, we never admitted to the boys that we watched them play, but I am sure they knew that we did. Ah! The tricks they would do to impress us – running around if they caught a ball, yelling at team-mates if someone missed the wicket or did not make that crucial run.

The field being very near the railway tracks, one good hit and the ball would go flying across to the tracks. Then there would be a debate on who should get the ball, often the batsman had to do it (since he threw it). This was great fun to watch too. For I often would have seen exactly where the ball landed. The poor batsman would climb up the wall that created the division between the track and the field and start to carefully look for the ball in-between all the trash that would be piled up on the tracks. (Of course we all new which tracks had trains coming and even roughly the in-between gap between each trains arrivals so no-one ever got hurt.)

Anyway, getting back to the point of cricket, it was a great times. I remember times (summer vacations) when we girls tried our hands on it. We would get the younger boys rounded up and play against them. We would either boss them up by saying that we have never played the game so needed more leniencies or never admit a catch, a six or anything in-between. Looking back, I think we enjoyed the arguments better than playing itself.

And then there were the real shows – the Indian cricket team play-offs. Discussions would flow on how well they or they did not perform. If it was the world cup or some crucial game no one would be out playing that evening. After the game, there would be discussions on how the team played or not.

Then there were the superstitions – one of the girls claimed that if she watched, the Indian team is sure to lose. She said it often enough that I started to believe it myself … (ah such stupid trivial stuff)

When I moved to US, it was this excitement that I missed. I tried to keep track of the games through the internet. But reading about a game is very different than watching it, living it. Slowly over the years, I kept little to minimum track of the every day plays. I still loved the game, but somehow the former glory disappeared.

A month ago, we moved from Comcast cable to DIRECTV cable and now have 24 hour access to the cricket from all over the world. And can you believe it; I barely tuned in. What have the last 7 years turned me into? Is it the game (I hope not), is it me (I hope not either)?

This also brings up another point – what will my son like a few years from now. If its one of the American sports, could I sit with him and follow it? I probably will need a crash course in understanding all the rules & players for game so I will at least be able to make a decent conversations. The trails of parenthood continues ...