Love in the time of World Cup 1999


The 1992 World Cup had aging stars and new ones, Imran Khan and Ian Botham rubbing shoulders with Sachin Tendulkar and Brian Lara

It had a testing format in which each team played each other at least once and was played in superb grounds

An entire nation yearns to relive the tournament which produced several nuggety moments including the much-mentioned ‘Cornered Tigers’ toss interview and those two deliveries which sealed the final

For me though, the ’99 world cup tops everything and not just because of cricket

World Cup 1999 arrived in my late teens, an age with infinite possibilities and all the time in the world to achieve them

As Wordsworth said: “Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven!” Memories of youth are usually sharp and flawless and the ‘99 World Cup stands out like no other

Cricket was by then a real passion and not something in which you take interest only when Pakistan is winning

Sixes and fours were appreciated and applauded but so was seam bowling and intelligent field placements

The World Cup coincided with another happy occasion in any teenagers’ life: the start of summer vacation

It started at the end of the school year and I watched the opening ceremony and the Sri Lanka-England match that followed it at a school friend’s home

J lived close to St Patrick’s High School and we bunked the afternoon class to make sure we wouldn’t miss a ball

To this day, the summer hues of green remind me of Pakistan’s jerseys and the grass of the cricket grounds

I had also recently gotten my heart broken and took to cricket like an Indian movie hero would take to a bottle of Vat 69 whisky

Personal reasons are one thing but the nostalgia is all the more poignant for a different time and era

The World Cup took place before the war on terror began and the country became a security state

Karachi’s saga of violence was being sung sotto voce, flanked by the cacophony of early 90s and the concerto that was to come soon after and continues to this day

Doors, while not completely ajar, were still not barred and walls were crowned with shrubbery and not razor wire

Family visits were not bound to big occasions and everyone seemed to have more time for each other

Instead of gathering at different commercial spots to watch matches on large screens, we would troop into each other’s homes for cricket and get tea and pakoras in the bargain

For weeks, it seemed the entire neighbourhood was one vast cricket stadium

We would play cricket on the roads until start of play and I can recall with lucidity the matches I saw at relatives’ or neighbours’

Pakistan’s opening match was against the West Indies and our play was interrupted by a cousin announcing that Shoaib Akhtar’s first ball has gone for a six

In fact, it was a top edge and only increased our awe for Pakistan’s latest speed merchant

Glenn McGrath’s demolition of India in a must win game was witnessed at an aunt’s who lived two streets down and Shane Warne’s magical spell against South Africa in the semi-final was cheered on at another cousin’s

Pakistan’s depressing slide against Venkatesh Prasad spoilt an otherwise perfect family barbeque and Neil Johnson’s all round performance against Australia was celebrated with biryani at an aunt’s, known for her mastery of the dish

There would be screenings but only by happenstance and courtesy of a small TV and a considerate host

The Pakistan-Australia group match was seen at a family function with only one TV to satiate the guests, and dinner was delayed until we closed out the game

The antenna was precariously balanced and the host’s son spent most of the event twisting and turning the dials for uninterrupted play

Dodgy antennas were one thing but our ire was reserved for the KESC

With generators a luxury and summer load shedding a common theme, the best friend a cricket tragic could have was the trusty radio

Steve Waugh’s epic century against South Africa in a must win game was played out in my head as I lay on the terrace in complete darkness with Chisti Mujahid’s commentary for company

He did a superb job but faltered when Herschel Gibbs dropped Waugh and in the process the World Cup

Even his eloquence couldn’t do justice to what was, in fact, an indescribable moment

Radio was also a constant companion when we were on the move

With no smart phones and mobile internet, no Cricinfo or social media, the radio was all we had to keep with the matches

I didn’t have exams but those giving their A’ levels would hide them in their rooms as they ‘studied’ and only the sound of muffled cheers could uncover the deception

Pakistan’s famous victories would be celebrated with oodles of ice cream and meethai, the fusillade of gun fire that marks them now is still an unknown phenomenon

After the semi-final victory over New Zealand, we begged an indulgent uncle to take us for ice cream to the nearest Snoopy’s ice cream parlour and the whole way were serenaded by honks of passing cars and impromptu singing sessions of Dil Dil Pakistan

When someone knocked on the car windows, it was to flash a victory sign or give a flag we would wave with delirious pride

Today, a similar knock would usually mean a mugging or worse and public celebrations are considered gauche by many

When the festivities finally ended at the final, we were left distraught, but it had been a great summer, the memories of which still invoke laughter and heated discussions

So much has changed since then and with it how we interact with cricket

Homes are secure forts, neighbourhoods no more a backdrop for a vibrant community

There is much razzmatazz but the comradeship is missing

With the World Cup imminent, the mind travels back to the summer of ’99, the summer of my bygone days

I had started with a broken heart but along the way found a new love

It wasn’t cricket

It was my neighbourhood, my mohalla



Date:12-Feb-2015 Reference:View Original Link