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from the boundary by Sarb Johal |
India v. Pakistan, 21st August 2004, Videocon Cup, Amsterdam
Arriving in Amsterdam, it was clear that few locals knew about the momentous occasion that was about to take place. I discovered that the
Tourist Information Office didn't know much about the tournament when I was directed to the wrong cricket ground, about 10km away from the correct venue. A friendly local deliveryman gave me a lift to the right place, the VRA Ground in Amstelveen.
"One of the Indian players' wives came to buy bread in our shop yesterday", he said. "She said the players were really nervous about the game".
Three of the biggest one-day international cricket teams in the world - India, Pakistan and Australia - were about to play in a specially arranged warm-up tournament for the ICC Champions Trophy, the Videocon Cup. In the next 24 hours, ten thousand fanatical followers from far-flung places were converging to watch a cricket match between two huge rivals - India and Pakistan - playing in a neutral country, far from home, where the host nation only played the game on a non-professional basis.
As I wandered around back in the city, I noticed the number of fans arriving for the match steadily increasing. I heard a London accent in a group of Indian voices, so I trailed them to an Indian restaurant at end of a street of Leidseplein, one of the main nightlife squares in central Amsterdam. Around 100 people were gathered outside, part of a party of 450 Indian cricket fans who had made the trip from London. Grandparents to small grandchildren - all had made the trip to see the match.
Across the square, a younger generation of Pakistani fans were beginning to fill-up the bars and
coffee shops. The square itself was sprinkled with Pakistani emerald green and Indian sky blue, both sets of fans mingling in the twilight, looking forward to the game tomorrow.
The next morning on the way to the ground, the packed bus swirled with laughter and rumours, despite the damp from heavy overnight rain. A ripple of applause broke out.
"Have we started?" quipped one fan.
"No, it was a maiden" another replied.
"I heard 10 tickets on eBay were going for €1000", said another fan.
"Sachin isn't playing today", an anonymous voice called out.
Time stood still as the bus fell silent. Nobody wanted to believe it, but no one questioned it. Fans silently exchanged meaningful looks, communicating the same unsaid thought. If someone risks lynching by saying something like that out aloud, they must be pretty sure of their facts.
We filed off the bus and joined the mass of blue and green walking towards the ground. Horns and klaxons blaring we marched on, banishing thoughts of the injured Sachin in favour of the moment. Here we were in a strange non-cricketing but friendly land, an international expatriate throng from India, Pakistan, UK, Germany, Denmark, Canada and the USA, heading towards a match rich in history and cultural significance.
As we approached the entrance, it was obvious that the organisers were woefully under-prepared for the size of the supporting cast. Trying to get a crowd this size funnelled through a gate 3 metres square was a bad joke. The crowd took it in good humour, but an hour later smiles looked a little more forced through gritted teeth. The Police ceased to get the joke and ordered the gates to be opened to ensure public safety (just after a few unlucky punters had paid €100 each for their tickets from touts).
Although the rain delayed start of play until 1330, there was no stopping the crowd. The eastern stand dominated by the sky blue of the travelling New Bharat Army from the UK and the t-shirted Videocon tours from India pounded out desi beats, clashing with the chants of the Pakistani dominated Western stand. Fans made regular incursions through the perimeter of the outfield as they sprinted and danced around the ground with banners and flag training behind them. The stewards looked on, helplessly shrugging their shoulders as they grinned at the boundless energy of it all.
As the Indian tour groups lined up for their lunch (they had brought their own chefs), Farouk Engineer and Kapil Dev came over to wave to the crowds and shake some hands. Some of the Indian tour groups had flown over for the scheduled India games of the Videocon Cup, only to return home and then fly to the UK for the ICC Champions Trophy next month. Ali from San Francisco, USA had flown in today and had met Ghafoor from Peterborough, UK and was staying until Thursday - just for the Pakistan games. Supporters seemed to rack up phenomenal mileage (and spent serious currency) to follow their dreams.
As the start of play approached and the news that Sachin was not playing was confirmed, the sound built to a roar, momentarily drowned out by a low-flying 747. As Amstelveen was on the flight path to Schipol International airport, the scream of the jet engines regularly competed with the crowd, though it was often hard to tell which was which.
Ashish Nehra was given the responsibility of the first ball of this reduced overs game, and he was unlucky not to take a wicket as he slung a late in-swinging yorker at the Hameed's pads. At one point in the Pakistan innings, India had them pegged back at 58-3 in the 14th over on a sticky, turning wicket. However, the Pakistanis fought back every time India looked to be dominating, culminating in a final flurry of 42 off the last 3 overs of the innings. Agarkar felt the full force of the assault conceding 57 runs from just 7 overs, including 20 from his last. In a ground where the straight boundaries were rather short, the most memorable shot was a six from Youhanna high into the trees beyond long-on. Although it would have finished some 50 metres beyond the rope on this pitch, it was worth six on any ground.
India began their run chase in a hurry, taking 30 from the first three and a half overs. However, the rapid fall of Sehwag (throwing his wicket away in the covers yet again) and Dravid (who looked embarrassed to have been run out by Inzamam-ul-Haq) meant that the Indians were always up against it. The Pakistani fans were suddenly bathed in warm sunlight as they turned up their volume by several notches. On the opposite side, the Indian fans stood solemnly in stunned silence, as their stand fell into shadow
The match ended mercifully quickly as the Indian batsmen meekly folded the bats and trooped shame-faced back to the pavilion in rapid succession, to lose by 66 runs. As well as anchoring the Pakistani batting, Shoaib Malik gave a convincing display of controlled slow bowling, ably assisted by Shahid Afridi. However, it's probably true to say that the Indians threw this match away as much as the Pakistanis had won it.
Hundreds of Pakistani fans whirled around the pitch, running their own laps of honour in a blur of flags and tears. There was nothing left for the Indian fans to do but leave to re-group for another day, after the second defeat to their major rivals in rapid succession. The emerald festival continued later onto local roads where an impromptu party broke out for two hours, the local Police watching with relaxed amusement. The bus home was packed with raucous Pakistani supporters at one end flying their flags out of the sun-roof, and deflated Indian parents at the other, comforting their crying children.
Back at the hostel, the two Indians sharing my dormitory room looked distraught.
"Did you enjoy the game?" I asked, shrugging helplessly.
One man looked at me and smiled sadly.
"Not really", he said. "I wish Sachin had played".
I wondered out loud whether this meant India might be out of the tournament. He turned his back on me and turned out the lights.
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