It was a hot afternoon following a late night of drinks in the garden with friends. I was expecting the day to be lazy and uneventful, filled with reading, writing, snacking, and napping, all in my pajamas. Only moments after rubbing my freshly opened eyes, my boyfriend announced that we’d be going to watch the cricket. To be honest, the thought of sitting outside in the blistering heat to watch a sport that took, in my opinion, far too many hours to complete seemed dreadfully daunting. However, being the sports and competition lover that I am, I agreed to pull myself up by the bootstraps, splash some water on my face, and head off to the bus. My only demand was that I be allowed to get a sandwich before committing to a woozy day at the ballpark- after all, sports arenas aren’t typically renowned for their vegetarian options. As luck, would have it and in a form typical of my life, the bus that we needed to catch rolled up just as I was about to enter the sandwich shop. We had to make the decision to make a run for it or wait for the next one; I was in favor of the latter, but was apparently overruled as my boyfriend took off at a sprint.
Hunger and Heat
We arrived at the WACA a few hungry minutes later. An extremely cheerful and equally helpful volunteer showed us to Will Call, where we retrieved our tickets and entered the world-famous stadium. Upon entering the grassy sitting area, I was greeted by the thundering sound of patriotic Indians celebrating another fine wicket by their national team. The circular stadium was filled with waves of brilliant blue jerseys and colorful Indian flags; here a group of women jumped up and down to grab the attention of the cameramen, there a bunch of men danced and chanted in harmonious unison. In fact, I never did see a single United Arab Emirates supporter during the entire game. If there were any, they were clearly lost in the sea of Indian pride. Even the announcer repeatedly asked the fans to do a loud cheer for all the fans back home in India; never once did he say anything about the UAE. One thing that did unite the crowd, however, was the well-planned presence of hats. “Note to self: when planning to sit outside to watch a game that could potentially last the entire day, bring a hat,” I thought.
A Gentlemen’s Game Watched by Party Animals
Although I have been a lover of sports and competition for my entire life, I couldn’t help but feel bad for this team. It was almost like a little league team stepping out into Fenway Park to play against the Boston Red Sox. Try as they might, the UAE team just couldn’t manage to get very many runs- they were 102 and all out within the first hour and a half. The energy of the Indian fans was infectious, and I unintentionally found myself rooting for them, clapping and dancing along with the excited crowd as their favorite batsmen stepped to the crease. In actuality, this only happened twice, as the UAE only managed to get one wicket off India through an incredibly impressive catch by one of the fielders. Even with the 45 interval, which to be honest was completely unnecessary, as it occurred when India needed only 16 more runs to win, the game lasted a mere 4.5 hours. I was glad that the humiliation of the UAE team was over, but slightly disappointed that my first true cricket match ended so prematurely. After all, I’d always been intrigued by how long the games lasted and how they still maintained to hold the crowd’s interest.
My Future with Cricket, Twice Cut Short
Needless to say, my first professional cricket experience was not all that I’d hoped it would be. While I enjoyed the atmosphere and am now quite fond of the game, it was certainly very difficult to watch such an excruciatingly mismatched set-up. However, not many people can say that they’ve got to experience a World Cup game (in any sport, really) in person in their lives. Although the WACA was fairly empty in comparison to its threshold of seating, the fanaticism of the Indian supporters was strong enough to make it feel as though I had been pulled in to a riptide of 50,000. I could only imagine how passionate and riled up the Australian fans would be later that week, when the home team would travel to Perth to dominate Afghanistan as predicted. I was very much looking forward to experiencing the energy and atmosphere of the hometown heroes in their natural element a few days later. “This will be real cricket,” I though to myself. Little did I know that one short phone call would change all of that.
