A grandee doing the rounds at the Ferozeshah Kotla is Bishan Bedi, who bowled high-quality left-arm orthodox spin with a smooth and beautiful action. He’s having a look at Cameron White, Jason Krejza, and Simon Katich. Over to Ram Mahesh.
The Australian nets wear the look of a Legends Conference. Steve Waugh, looking a touch fuller than when he was last dragged off a cricket field kicking and screaming (ok, so he went out in a well orchestrated retirement scheme; he didn’t want to, trust the diary), mumbles stuff through the corner of his mouth. The diary, which calls in sick, doesn’t make the great man’s acquaintance much to the annoyance of a colleague who has invested in the diary the l ightly-held responsibility of obtaining the signatures of every member of the 10000-Run Club.
The other grandee doing the rounds at the Ferozeshah Kotla is Bishan Bedi, who bowled high-quality left-arm orthodox spin with a smooth and beautiful action. He’s having a look at Cameron White, Jason Krejza, and Simon Katich. He leaves with an ominous warning to the waiting pressmen: “Don’t ever — I mean ever — underestimate the Aussies. Right?”
Tuesday, October 28: The officials of the DDCA clearly adhere to the DIY (Do It Yourself) principle. The press conference hall is empty, but chairs are stacked in high columns alongside the wall. Each journalist has to literally take his/her seat. Fortunately one alert soul notices in time that the seating area earmarked for the captains needs chairs as well. The festive mood is established once the presser starts.
Both Anil Kumble and Ricky Ponting wish everyone a Happy Diwali. Tender moments ensue. Ponting is asked if the calls for help to the former greats were an admittance of despair. “Well, we haven’t really asked for it. Steve was here with the MCC group and he looked in. Bishan, I don’t know how he ended up there. I turned up for training and there he was.”
Wednesday, October 29: It takes an eternity to enter the Kotla. The Delhi police certainly can’t be accused of politeness as the diary discovers. More nastiness in the Test: Gautam Gambhir holds out an elbow as he runs past Shane Watson, nudging him in the midriff, and later says it was an accident!
Simon Katich blocks Gambhir’s path, and the two exchange the sort of pleasantries that grown men indulge in when forced into small talk. The exclusive stump mic transcript the diary intrepidly obtains reveals that Katich asked Gambhir if he had a bit of duck for dinner. Gambhir said it was custard.
Thursday, October 30: After sensational news that the Nimbus control room at the Ferozeshah Kotla was flooded yesterday, the press box is threatened today. A ceiling-mounted AC springs a leak, and the diary’s neighbour comes close to being doused. The diary’s too busy laughing to help out, but Peter Roebuck, cricket-writing eminence and gallant gentleman at large, swoops in with a bucket! The DDCA officials are informed and despite a senior journalist’s caustic barb that no official would know his elbow from his backside let alone the complex details of rectifying a leaking AC, matters are resolved smoothly.
And play reprises this wonderful, uplifting spirit: Brett Lee ruffles Gambhir’s hair after the left-handed opener completes his double-century; Aleem Dar thanks Simon Katich after the occasional left-arm wrist spinner sticks a hand out, dropping a catch, but saving the umpire’s head from a fierce Dhoni hit.
In other matters, what stroke do you reckon Virender Sehwag’ll recommend to get to a double-hundred? We find out today. The world’s most dangerous bald man suggests V. V. S. Laxman attempt the reverse sweep. Does the Hyderabadi take the advice? Not quite. Laxman also celebrates a touch weirdly after the double, rolling his left arm over.
“It was something between me and Zaheer,” he says later. “I’d like it to stay secret.” Secret it stays. For ten minutes. One mole informs sources who inform journalists that Laxman, appointed Zaheer’s batting coach during the John Wright days, was being ribbed by his charge, who was playing up his batting exploits at Bangalore. This was Laxman’s response to Zaheer.
Friday, October 31: Oh dear, the AC fixed yesterday starts leaking again. Never again make disparaging comments dear readers of how cushy a life us sports journalists lead. We aren’t quite staring the dangers of a war with an unblinking eye, but surely a leaky AC is riskier than a political rally; the worst that happens there is getting stuck in traffic.
Well, well, well, what do we have here? Cricket or synchronised swimming? A swarm of bees that takes particular interest in the Ferozeshah Kotla track force the players and the umpires, as one, to flatten on the ground like soldiers during an air-raid (is that what they do? Not being a war reporter, the diary is making it up as it goes). For five minutes, all we are treated to is the sight of serious men sunning themselves. Interesting fact: Aleem Dar was involved in the last recorded incident of Bees at Cricket, in Sri Lanka in 2007, as well.
Saturday, November 1: The diary falls in love with the Metro, which reminds it favourably of the Tube it so admired last year in London. Wow, that felt good — just the touch of pretentiousness the diary had committed to when it started its pursuit of a hoary career in diaryhood during the tour of the West Indies in 2006.
It’s had some great times, several great lines, and although dreariness had infected its mordant wit, it appears set to renew its commitment. You lucky, lucky reader.
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