Bharath Ramaraj in Bengaluru
There are numerous ways to process a game of cricket. If you belong to the modern era, perhaps through video streaming via a mobile phone. If you’re slightly old-fashioned, it would be through TV or even the good, old radio. Better still, pick up a book or two and relive tales from another era. But a visit to the ground and watching the match live gives you a different perspective, especially a nearly-packed house at the M Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bengaluru.
It wasn’t an IPL game involving Royal Challengers Bangalore. It wasn’t an India game either. Yet, there was more than enough action at the Chinnaswamy. First, there seemed to be some psychic connection between the DJ at the ground and David Warner, Australia’s opener. It seemed as if as soon as the DJ said, “Warnerrrrr, Powerrrrrr”, Warner either got inside the line to tonk one through fine leg or crunched a drive past cover. It happened once, it happened twice, and made you wonder whether preternatural connections actually exist.
As Warner neared his 150, he seemed to be tiring. The DJ was at it again. This time in Kannada, the local language, which basically translated to – Cheer so loudly for Warner that your voice will be heard in Sydney.
Nevertheless, this time his sorcery didn’t work as Warner soon fell to a rather fatigued shot. As he trudged back, the Chinnaswamy crowd was up on its feet to give him a standing ovation. It was a moment to capture and frame in the mind. At 36, who knows how many more times Warner would entertain the Bengaluru crowd with his pyrotechnics?
The story of Australia’s innings wasn’t just about Warner’s century, as Mitchell Marsh, his opening partner, also lit up the stadium with his sturdy blows. With the birthday boy, there wasn’t any connection between the DJ’s words and his game, but his shots alone brought out a different perspective. Almost every single time Marsh employed the pull or cut, the thud of willow meeting leather filled the air. And this at a stadium that had a sizeable crowd.
Two shots stood out: A cut off Hasan Ali and a front-foot pull off the tearaway Haris Rauf. Both times, one could hear the sweet melody of bat striking ball. And the power of the pull stroke was such that the ball ended up somewhere on top of the corporate stands.
For the first 30 or so overs, it was all Australia. Those few spectators who were wearing yellow shirts with Warner, Smith or Maxwell written on it raised their pitch. Those rooting for Shaheen Shah Afridi and Babar Azam had to take a back seat. But at the back end of Australia’s innings, Afridi showcased his skills to the Chinnaswamy crowd by bagging a five-for. It was a gritty performance indeed.
At one point of time, he was even on a hat-trick as Australia suffered a mini-collapse. Even the DJ’s prowess proved to be futile. He had announced “The Run Machine, Maxiiiii”, as the middle-order bat made his way out to take strike. After facing just one ball, he was walking back, dismissed for no score. With Pakistan taking a string of wickets, the DJ also thought it was the right time to play “Dil, Dil Pakistan”. Alongside Pakistan’s fine show in the slog, that tune must have cheered up Mickey Arthur, Pakistan’s Director of Cricket.
The memories from the game weren’t just confined to the DJ’s words or the fireworks from the bats of Australia and Pakistan. There was a Mexican Wave too for a few minutes. It was perhaps the fans at the Pavilion End that started it and soon the wave caught the entire stadium like wildfire. One round, two rounds and then three full rounds. Such was the spontaneity of the wave that, for a very brief period, it felt as if a home match was being played.
After a few hours, the result was flashed on the screens at the ground – Australia beat Pakistan by 62 runs. But the game was so much more than that. You just had to experience it first-hand to understand the splendid cacophony of a frenzied Chinnaswamy Stadium.