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Sunday, Oct 17, 2004

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Sport - Cricket

The Australians are feeling the heat

By Vijay Parthasarathy

CHENNAI, OCT. 16. Mohammed Kaif and Parthiv Patel score valuable half-centuries in the morning session. Patel hasn't been keeping particularly well — the cherubic teenager is dropping catches the way Santa Claus slips presents down your stocking — and the runs he scores today are particularly vital.

Kaif, meanwhile, starts cramping midway and retires soon after the second session begins. But he is forced to return with a runner after the tail-enders are dismissed; and dispatches the first ball bravely to the boundary. The next ball, however, he is run-out after a comical mix-up.

"I wasn't concentrating, I was feeling a little weak; I forgot Yuvraj was running for me and I started running myself and then got stranded," he grins, at the post-play press conference. "It was quite funny, to be honest."

***

The Australian batsmen are finding it a little hot out there and every time the umpire calls for drinks, the 12th man runs out with bottles — and also plastic chairs and a large umbrella for the batsmen. The first time it happens, umpire David Shepherd takes the opportunity to wipe the sweat off his brow and parks himself gratefully for a few seconds.

Test cricket has obviously adapted to the inexorable changes over the years, and now, it appears we are seeing shades of tennis in the sport.

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These days Wallajah Road, outside Chepauk stadium, could easily pass off as some sort of gypsy haunt. It's certainly a shining example of a self-sufficient economy: out on the pavement, a man sells the best pop-corn in the world for two bucks; a five-year-old kid thrusts a polythene pouch in your face and squeals, "water packet, water packet one rupee only." And you can't miss that glib young man, who nearly convinces you that the pair of binoculars he is selling for Rs. 50 will change your life.

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Here, you will also occasionally encounter the devilishly cunning auto-rickshaw driver, that supreme artiste, who takes a keen interest in these foreign types spilling forth from the stadium. As far as he's concerned, it's raining dollars, hallelujah.

"Park Hotel, uh? Rs. 150 only. Cheap only for you, sir," says one smooth operator unblinkingly, in his unimpeachable accent, to an Australian journalist. Interfere on his behalf, and our man emotionally accuses you of preventing him from earning his daily bread. "Three daughters I have to marry, sir," he confides to you in colloquial Tamil, as large tears magically form in his eyes. "How to pay off debt otherwise?"

***

Suresh, who operates the lift in the media-box section, is one chap at the ground who's caught very little of the action.

"I'm a very big Sachin fan but what to do; he is not here," he smiles shyly. "But I also like Sehwag a lot. I was unable to watch too much when he was batting, though, because I was busy here. The door opens and I catch a few seconds of cricket, then I have to take the lift down again.

"I hope India manages to win."

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