Last night as I sat on the roof top terrace of our five-room Inn, just a short steamy walk from the Queen’s Park Oval, I finally asked myself the question. This is my second in-person test match, in as many countries. I suppose for someone who isn’t obsessed with cricket the way my dear husband is, it is a lot. So as I sat in the cool evening air, watching Subash type up his view of the day, I thought I’d finally ask myself, “What does cricket mean to me?”
First, I feel the need to preemptively state that I don’t really like watching any sport on TV. Usually, I find it boring, and the rare times when I do care about an outcome are far too anxiety-ridden. It is much easier just not to care.
I DO, however, like watching sports in person. Provided there are snacks.
The truth is, though, that me watching cricket at a stadium is more like me watching a stadium at cricket. I spend most of the time looking around at people and getting distracted by that bird’s nest built on top of the loud speaker, or wondering if people in that neighboring apartment building can see the match from their balconies.
Missus Cricket Couch keeps herself busy at Cricket
As a person who used to play sports, I can appreciate a good effort. But I know there is some part of cricket I am missing. I have read enough and spoken to enough people to know there is some other level to the game I do not grasp—some kind of mental battle, a subtle beauty, like a language I am not fluent in. I wonder if I am too lazy to get it. Maybe I spend too much time wondering what the closest hawker is selling, or watching the Australian fan dance with every boundary and wishing I were more fun, like her.
Since I am not fluent enough to get the nuances of bowling and batting, I mainly watch the fielding. It is a game with a lot of watching and waiting, eagle-eyed for the moment to sprint for the ball. I like the bend-and-scoop move fielders do, and I like watching someone run after a ball all the way to the boundary, even when they are sure they won’t get there in time.
The more I watch test cricket the more it seems like some madman’s insidious torture device, the fielders and fans just a ruse to try to break the spirit of some unsuspecting bowler or batter. I cannot imagine standing in the middle of a giant circle of people and throwing or facing ball after ball, one at a time, for hours on end. Knowing that they have to be as sharp and attentive to detail the 100th ball as they were on the first. Knowing they need only let the bat slip an inch in their grip to send a ball sailing into the waiting hands of their opponent, fingers ready like teeth to snap shut around their prey.
While I am still figuring out the game, I already know that I like the crowd. Or at least the crowds I have been a part of thus far. The respectful adoration of the Mumbai fans, intensely focused on the green circle below, living and dying with each ball. The jovial atmosphere of the West Indies, calling to each other like old friends, drums and dancing announcing the latest good news. I like the common excitement and good-natured ribbing. I like that people are mostly assumed friends until proven otherwise. I like that everyone is in the same boat. And of course I love the food.
It seems possible that the more matches I go to and the more I soak in the talk of the terminally cricket-obsessed around me, the more I will understand. Perhaps there will be a day when I will be the first to clap when a bowler has forced the batter to make a split second decision and finally snap under the pressure, instead of the one elbowing my husband and whispering “wait, what just happened?” Perhaps I will join in the liquid conversation that flows in the stands, the bar, the breakfast table, and argue why Lara was a great batsman but why Sobers was a great all-around player.
Or who knows! Maybe I am just doomed to wonder if that bird flitting around the boundary fence is a grackle or some new species I haven’t seen before. Whatever the outcome, the one thing I am certain of is that I am lucky to be part of this and am looking forward to the journey.