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For those of you who do not know me, I am the Chinese guy from ‘What the Chinese guy said.’ Ever since I have been living in Karachi, my Pakistani friends and colleagues have been asking me about cricket. People always questioned me, “Do you like cricket?” or “Have you played cricket?” It usually came after the question “Do you know kung-fu?” I am sure most of you would agree if I said that cricket is the second official national religion in Pakistan. I remember one reader of my previous blog mentioned that I had not yet experienced the real Pakistani life till I understood the spirit of cricket. Cricket takes a significant position in every Pakistani’s heart; from what I observed, at least half of the nation, even girls, takes part in street cricket. Just like how Malaysians are obsessed with badminton.
You would surely give me a flabbergasted look then, if I told you I was not aware of cricket (I swear did not know that such a ball game existed on Earth) two months ago, like I did not know the word ‘Pakistan’ plainly means ‘the land of the pure’ in the Urdu language. I remember, back in Singapore, my professor once told me “You will find it very fascinating to see local kids play cricket on the streets in Pakistan.” At that time, I really thought she was referring to the insect called cricket (the green creature which looks like a grasshopper). That would out rightly be extraordinary if kids made two crickets fight on the streets (I never heard about crickets fighting), like how we make roosters and fighter-fish brawl as our pastime in Malaysia.
I finally knew that cricket referred to the ball game when I was in Sri Lanka, just three days before I came to Pakistan. There was a banner at the airport that said ‘ICC Cricket World Cup 2011’ (Imagine what occurred in my mind at that moment “Cricket, the insect…and World Cup?”). Curiously, I asked around and finally got to know from a Sri Lankan about this baseball-like ball game (the Sri Lankan guy must be thinking this Malaysian is a fool).
Lesson one: Cricket is a type of ball game. It is very popular amongst subcontinent countries and British colonials, except for Malaysia and Singapore and other tropical countries.
A wise man once said ‘curiosity killed the cat’; yet, my curiosity never sleeps. Especially when everyone around me was describing how fun the game was. However, I had never got a chance to actually touch a cricket ball yet before the momentous Saturday evening came. It was another chilly February when I left the Dawn.com office with Nadir, my colleague, at around nine o’clock. We were heading to Burns Road (one of my favorite places now in Karachi: it is dirty and unglamorous and it is, certainly, not as well-developed as the Clifton area for tourists, but it shows the real image of the old Karachi. Burns Road is a living dictionary to study this city and its residents’ orientation. Rome was not built in a day; walking on Burns Road, I could even smell the filth from the drains from over a hundred years ago. Plus, there is FOOD! So we went to have dinner with three of Nadir’s friends. We went to an old restaurant which sells delicious Shawarma, fried kebab and brain-masala. After that, we went to Nadir’s house and began men’s talk along with a music-playing-session, surely with Pakistan’s favorite hot drink – ‘chai’ (milk tea). Out of the blue, one of his friends suggested, “Shall we play cricket?”
One thing that makes Pakistanis so interesting to me is that they argue and criticize everything; it could be something about politics and religion, or life, or small things like whether to play cricket or not. They are so enthusiastic about letting others hear his/her thoughts that it happens every time, even during a casual conversation, a Pakistani would voice out whatever is in his mind expressively (sometimes even aggressively). So, in this case, debate and argument came after the suggestion. Some of them (including me) loved the idea of playing cricket, and were trying to work it out, while others complained about the time – it was getting pretty late in the night. Most of the time, I would quietly observe the conversations, mostly because I was amused by the scene (sometimes I used to be frightened by these aggressive behaviors).
Finally, a decision was made. Pakistanis never let me down. The plan was on.
Lesson two: Decision making comes along with a battle, as well as sacrifice, if needed.
It was midnight. We were standing in the middle of the road. Nadir and his friends started marking territory while others were warming up.
“Are you familiar with baseball?” one of them asked.
“I have played it before…but…not really.”
“What about tennis? Or badminton?”
“Yes, badminton.”
“Okay then, I guess it is very similar to badminton.”
Usman, another friend of his, tried to visualise the game of cricket for me while explaining all the rules and the role-playing. Of course, everything was bewildering and it seemed nothing similar to badminton. From what I understood, the batsman had to hit the ball and make sure that it flies as far as it can so that both batsmen would have enough time to run. While the fielder had to catch the flying ball or run after it and try to hit one of the wickets before the batsmen are back from running – a batsman is out of the game if his wicket is hit by the ball. To me, it sounded more like ‘Quidditch’ which Harry Potter and his wizard friends played at school – the batsmen (the beaters) hit the Quaffle and the fielders (the seekers) are catching the golden Snitch. I was startled by the manner in which the ball was supposed to be bowled. It was different from what I expected and so much fun. Furthermore, it was definitely a good way to release stress and anger. Jawad, another friend of Nadir’s came to me and said, “Now, you are the fielder.”
Lesson three: Bowling is a good way to let go off some steam.
“What does a fielder need to do?” I asked.
“Well, you run as fast as you can to the ball, grasp it and throw it back to the nearest fielder/bowler near the wicket.” So the game finally began, with many question marks still in my head, plus the curiosity about the magic of this tiny white ball that it plays on Pakistanis’ minds. The balls that we played with were not exactly cricket balls you see on TV. They were actually tennis balls. We bought them from a nearby petrol station and covered each of them with a sticky tape used to join electrical wires so that the balls were more visible. Everyone stood at their positions and looked a lot more serious than they did five minutes ago, prior to the game. As a beginner, I really hoped that I would play well. The first ball was hit by the batsman and I knew the game had started. Usman was the one who caught the ball while people were shouting and running, for reasons that I did not really know yet. Then, before even realizing what had happened, the next ball was bowled and things were repeated. The pace on field was very fast, and no one except me was so unoccupied that I asked, “What happened?” while I was waiting for a chance to catch the ball. Too bad the ball had never been flying in my direction. I waited at the side, still studying the game when abruptly I heard, “Jia Wei, run! Jia Wei!”
I did not know why I should run but I did so when the tiny ball flew past my shoulder. I ran to the direction where the ball fell. From behind, I heard someone shout at the batsmen “Run!” while Usman, who was now standing beside the wicket shouted at me, “Pass the ball to me, here, over here!”
The ball was in my hand now, but I did not know where to toss it. Initially, I wanted to throw it to where the wicket was, though it was very far from where I stood. Should I pass it to Usman? Before my brain could make a worthwhile decision and send the reflex order to my body, the ball was already tossed and it flew across the field and passed through the gap between Usman and the wicket. It happened within seconds and it was too late.
Lesson four: Cricket is an incredibly fast-paced game. Be very wise when making decisions.
It was our turn to bat this time around and I was the first batsman. Despite how panicky as well as excited I was, I told myself “Try your best, it is very easy – hit the ball when you see it”. The cricket bat is so much bigger than a baseball bat that I did not think it would be harder than batting in baseball. What I expected was I should be able to hit three balls out of six, at least. Two minutes later, I realized it was not as simple as I thought. The -------- ball is so small. It might not be that hard to actually hit a ball hurling towards you, but the most challenging part (also the fun part) is to be able ‘to see’ the minuscule ball at night. So I stood there and watched the bowler toss the ball. Gosh, where did the ball go? I completely missed it! “Lucas, hit the ball, hit!” When I finally did see the ball, this time it was speeding towards my direction and was very close to where I stood. Five seconds later, I missed the -------- ball, again.
Lesson five: At night, it is harder to ‘see’ a cricket ball than to hit it.
The next day, we went to the beach. Of course, how could we not play cricket there? So first we prepared some barbequed food and then played some cricket at a rented hut. It unquestionably is more entertaining when one is more familiar with the game. At least I knew what was going on this time around. I practiced more and my game was getting better. Cricket is the kind of ball game where you need a lot of practice before you can play well. Frankly speaking, morning is a better time for a beginner to practice cricket!
Lesson six: That’s not cricket!
That is not fair. The British soldiers had never introduced cricket to Malaysia and made it popular amongst the nations during their colonization. Otherwise, we would have known about this game, and maybe, we would play better than Pakistanis and Indians do. However, I noted one thing: cricket is not a game for the rainforests. Back in my motherland, Malaysia, it rains everyday. On the other hand, cricket is a sport played predominantly in the drier period of the year – it cannot be played in wet weather because humidity affects the bounce of the ball on the wicket, and so forth.
In Pakistan, there is something more to cricket than an ordinary ball game – it is an evidence of their civilization’s progress. Pakistanis have been playing cricket since the day the British landed on the soil of Indus and created their empire on this land. Decades later, the Pakistanis gained independence but never let cricket leave their generations.
Nowadays, when extremists squabble about the dire influence of westernization they never argue about the existence of the game called cricket – the sportsman spirit that the British left for the nation, because cricket is just too important to everyone in this country. Cricket is part of the development of Pakistan as a nation in the global sphere; the cross-cultural combination between the west and the Pakistani customs. A Pakistani cannot live without cricket, just like how a shot can only be lived through the meeting of leather and willow.
The views expressed by this blogger and in the following reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.
