The 1970s and 1980s were the golden era for youngsters who indulged in outdoor play. Cricket matches of yesteryear had a vibrant flavour. I mean “street cricket” that we played at a young age. Bricks or even coconut trunks, if not a small gate, formed our wickets. Or the stumps and bails were drawn on a compound wall.
The bats used to be the hard middle section of a coconut frond. The few who bought a decent bat from a sports store counted their blessings. Though linseed oil is recommended to season the bats, we used castor oil available at homes.
We used tennis and rubber balls, and the bounce improved our skills. For the adventurous ones, there was the slightly harder cork ball — not the ones used in nets today. Also, the fruits of large red-flower trees doting our roads were made into balls after being mashed along with its sticky glue-like substance and dried in the sun over a few days. Another invention was the tennis ball strapped by rubber-bands that were evenly spread, which reduced its bounce but made it move faster on hard surfaces.
A cricket ball stuffed in a sock and tied with a string to a hook in the ceiling served well for indoor batting practice.
We played with gusto where the street served as our pitch, neighbourhood as stadium, and neighbours as spectators. A few good ones encouraged while a few not-so-good ones cursed and confiscated the ball if it fell in their house or broke their windowpanes.
Open fields welcomed a game of cricket, except that they were dirty and full of thorns and wild plants. We used weekends to cut down the plants, sweep the field, and tilled a patch of land in the centre to prepare a pitch over a week or two to facilitate tournaments.
Unwritten rules
“If you bring your cricket bat, you shall open the innings.” “If you bring your wickets for the match, you will play first down.” “If you bring your own tennis ball, then you will get bowling chances.” “If I bring two pencils, will I get to play in the eleven?” These were the rules.
We played friendly matches where we wagered pencils. We extracted a batting order thus — numbers written on the forearm of one player while others lined up in front were assigned an order based on their standing position, or numbers written on the ground and covered with a bat on the same logic, or a person blind-folded called out to whom the number is assigned when another person displayed a number with his fingers.
Necessity is the mother of invention, but innovation is the mother of all happiness when scarce resources are used to maximum benefit. We played the entire day in the hot sun — substitute and concussion replacements were common. The score cards were drawn out on sheets of paper, sometimes inscribed on sand or with counting sticks.
The umpires were mostly players from either side who did not make it to the playing eleven. They were a force-fit, with a captain’s promise to accommodate them in the eleven for the next game. The best umpires were players who got out; rather than heading back to the pavilion, they donned the umpire’s hat. Umpiring standards evolved and often were the sole reason for an abrupt end to a good game of cricket.
The 1983 World Cup triumph popularised gully cricket to encourage more people to play, especially rural talent, and hone their skills. What was otherwise a rich man’s game, had a serious advent of players from hitherto-unknown places to represent our country in the highest forms.
Cricket is a religion and players have godlike status. India popularised the philosophy of inclusiveness through cricket. I have watched with rapt attention many girls playing street cricket. The growth of women’s cricket in India and the emergence of class players can be attributed to this approach that scaled from the ranks.
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