Test Match Special

07 March 2013

Australia. Probably 7 for 50 odd at this stage.

Cricket. It is the greatest game in the world. It’s the national sport and undeniable passion and obsession of India and a matter of life itself.  It’s the game God himself plays. And to the one billion plus population of India, that God’s name is Sachin Tendulkar.

We decided to start our journey through this vast country in Chennai (nee Madras) to experience the one thing that is quintessentially Indian, cricket, in India.

Flannel shirts are compulsory uniform for Indian cricket matches

Thank God for the cricket, as Chennai isn’t of any use to tourists. There is nothing exciting to see in this oppressive over-crowded city, although a quick ride in the back of beat up car took us to the odd mid-highlight of a temple and a long beach, so I won't say we saw absolutely nothing. The streets are as dirty and dusty as they come but some have the added depression of being filled with immense poverty and despair. Families make a living out of slim pickings from filthy rubbish dumps that border the chaotic streets alleys. Children barely out of infancy are crawling on top of these piles adoring tin cans as toys while their parents beg for money in desperation to attempt to end their lives of squalor. India is booming as a nation and is made out in foreign presses and probably local ones that it is a financially healthy and stable country, but the gap between the haves and have absolutely nothing not even a shirt on their backs is the confronting metaphorical punch in the face you receive when you first experience the poverty first hand.

The cyclist was ready in case of any emergency milking requirements

For what she lacks in beauty, Chennai wins major points in her exceptionally friendly locals, who are always up for a chat or a quick hello, and quite often these greetings lead into a conversation about the national passion, cricket.  To say the Indians are nuts about cricket is an understatement as the sky is blue (although with smog in Chennai this is somewhat of a misnomer). We spent three days at Chennai’s Chepauk stadium with 30000 plus screaming locals, and the odd Aussie in awe of the environment they were in. This experience is on every cricket mad Aussie’s wish and must do lists. Like Boxing Day at the MCG or Ashes Tests match at Lords, a game in India is a must do. And according to Chennaites, there is no better place to see Test Cricket than in Chennai. It’s famous and dear to Australians too as the venue in 1986 of only the second ever tied test match, where we all remember Dean Jones vomiting on the pitch at regular intervals. And with the probability that this would be national superhero and God Sachin Tendulkar’s last ever Test in this city, the locals sure were excited for the forthcoming few days.

John Farnham's Last Time tour was very popular.

 

The day before game day, we were required to go to the stadium to collect our tickets. Upon reaching the ticket window the seller enquired as to whether or not I was ex Australian legend Ricky Ponting. Despite the fact that he had my ID in front of him with correct name, I said, “Sure I am, champ” His eyes lit up as he left his post and came outside his box for photograph, and subsequently his mates whom he had called did the same. He then asked for an autograph. Going along with the flow and assuming that he hasn’t seen the news for six months to know that R.T Ponting has retired to his greyhounds, I fulfilled his request, asking him “My real name or Ricky’s?” “Both he said” So I signed away on his piece of paper and waved goodbye as he called his mates with the introduction of “You will never believe who I just met…. no shit, I’ll text you the photo now…. it’s coming…yes its him!”

Ricky Ponting. Famous

Being famous didn’t let me avoid the security checks the next day. Kylie thought being a WAG was rather overrated. Entry to a Test match is about $1.50 a day, but we splurged on the bowler’s arms seats at ten bucks a day. Glaringly, this is disgracefully cheaper than what we pay at home. And the food was also about 20 cents an item. Yes it was only samosas and curry and rice rather than the pies and burgers we are used to at our sporting events but it doesn’t matter; a day at the cricket in Australia usually requires a visit to the bank manager beforehand to loosen up some funds. But no beer. In fact Chennai is a very difficult place to get a famous Kingfisher, so the after game drinks were mango lassis rather than amber frothies.

Sachin Tendulkar is so idolised here that even whenever he touches the ball the crowd implodes with excitement and giddiness. When he scores a run they are on their way to tearing the house down. You don’t come to cricket in India for a relaxing day in the park watching men in whites run around. On the third day, closing in on a ton, he was dismissed, and the silence could only have been broken by the faintest dirge.

Chennai Stadium . Sharma to an excuse for a batsmen.

Australia had the better of the first day. The crowd enjoyed the proceedings and even appreciated our players fairly and squarely. I tried to explain to some fans that we usually abuse opposition players, sing wanker chants at them, and audibly question their gender from time to time, especially if they are English.

The second day was all India’s, as was the third day, and if it wasn’t for Michael Clarke Bollywood dancing to screaming fans in the stands, the day would have been rather miserable indeed. We also met a very friendly Chennai chap named Vela, who became our good friend throughout the week and would save us seats in row 19, as we discussed cricket and all things Chennai for hours on end. We were late getting in on the third day due to me having more runs than India’s top order courtesy of the dreaded Delhi belly, but Vela was there at the entrance waiting for us my the time we got into the stadium. Mind you I would have been in the gates earlier except the delay in the frisk from police who thought my man bits was a camera and said I wasn’t allowed to bring it in. They get really thorough in their body searches here in India.

The TV cameras love the odd looking people in a crowd. We managed to become famous in India thanks to our constant appearing on local television and on the big screen at the ground. It seems Kylie’s good looks attracted the cameraman often. In fact, he seemed to be stationed in front of us all the time. However, to this stage no Bollywood contract offer has been presented to us, so we may just stick to our original plans in life.

Lulled into photos, the supporter gladly accepted the tourists wallet.

The one thing all guidebooks and tourist information guides guarantee you’ll get when you travel in India is sick. On day four, I succumbed to something nasty that turned my intestines into murky water with the feeling that they were trying to escape at race car speed through the eye of a needle. Kylie of course suffered similar symptoms later on in the week, but eventually after swallowing the entire contents of our first aid kits and ensuring the local pharmaceutical companies are kept in business, we came to and now we don’t have to plan any more activities that are close to a toilet.

Oh, and India won the first test. Easily too.