 When cricket was life…
A journalist friend is attempting to unravel the mysteries of the beginnings of cricket played in Madras. In particular, he would like to understand the cultural, sociological milieu that facilitated the entry of the local young into this and other British games. What were the forces at work? Did parents encourage their children in this time-consuming pursuit? How did it percolate from the upper echelons of society to the middle and lower classes?
Trying to find answers to my friend’s queries in my own childhood, I realised that in my case, as in the lives of my contemporaries, cricket had been handed down by our elders. The passion for the game had been in existence in our extended families for at least a generation before we started playing the game. I do not remember a time when I did not play cricket, as a grand uncle had played for the state in his youth, the family ran a club in the Madras league, and the children were initiated as soon as they could walk!
My friend wondered if most children played rubber ball cricket first before they graduated to playing with cricket balls. As far as I can remember, we did both at the same period, not waiting impatiently like some other kids, to be allowed only when old enough, to play with the harder sphere. That was made possible by the used cricket balls that came our way after the family club’s league matches.
Therein lies a clue to why so many of us grew up to be bowlers and not batsmen. We played in the vast open spaces in the neighbourhood - long before the construction boom in the city swallowed most of them - on unprepared wickets marked out by us, usually on pedestrian paths denuded of grass by constant walking. These were often of uneven bounce, especially after it rained, as cattle walked over them and they dried out into dangerous surfaces full of ridges. Batting on these wickets was quite hazardous, especially as we possessed no protective gear, not even footwear. The result was that fear of injury produced poor batting technique, our initial movement tending to be towards the legside in order to avoid getting behind the ball!
In contrast, our bowling skills were sharpened by our having to land the ball “in the right areas” in current cricketing parlance. (Kids in Bombay mostly learned the ropes through tennis ball cricket on the streets. The bowling usually consisted of throws from about 15 yards on cement or tar roads, and lofted and cross batted shots meant the batsman was declared out, as they would end up smashing someone’s windows. By the time the boys graduated to cricket ball cricket, they would have learnt to play in the V, and play along the ground, a good formula for success in competitive cricket).
Growing up in Alwarpet meant opportunities to play on a huge patch of land on Murrays Gate Road, completely engulfed by Venus Colony by the time the seventies came round. More formal cricket was played inside Mangadu House on Moubrays Road opposite where the road was met by Sir C V Raman Road. The league team, MRC ‘B’ had net practice there. Nageswara Rao Park and the ‘cemetery’ ground at Mandaveli were other venues of informal cricket. The P S High School ground at Mylapore was a beehive of activity, with several cricket and football games taking place there simultaneously on days when no inter-school or league match was scheduled. The one common factor was the huge enjoyment boys derived from the game. For all of us, cricket was life.
V Ramnarayan
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