Our correspondent finds Hamilton’s laid-back charm hard to resist, and summons up the courage to leap off the tallest building in the hemisphere
Sharda Ugra30-Mar-2015March 7
At Auckland immigration, the officer asks who is going to win the World Cup and looks up. His stamp is hovering above my passport. I point back at him and say, “But of course.” The stamp comes down. He does this, he says, to every World Cup journalist he has run into. Welcome to New Zealand.Getting to a World Cup after it is half over is like sneaking into at a day-long party during the post-lunch drinks. But the delayed gatecrasher is uniquely able to sum up the happenings with detachment and clarity of distance.India’s unbroken string of World Cup victories has grown to eight. Not a single close shave, and their campaign is supported in spirit by the rapidly growing beards of the team’s more superstitious.March 8
Kerin Coleman has let the ESPNcricinfo mob into her home, a short walk from Hamilton’s Seddon Park. She has cleaned up her rooms, packed the larder with groceries, offered us a bicycle to use, and if needed, her car. George Binoy, Arya Yuyutsu and I are the first three in and we don’t want to leave. Her house that is. We don’t want to work, we want to sit on her deck in the sun, maybe amble down to bush country that extends down from her “edible garden”.March 9
Hamilton gets a bad press, let’s say. But at least it knows how to laugh at itself. There are so many jokes made about Hamilton that its residents are happy to call it “the Tron”. Some say it began in the nineties, when Hamilton was dubbed by some ironist as the “city of the future”. That brought about much giggling and quickly the 1982 sci-fi movie , about some futuristic gizmo, was borrowed from. From “Hamiltron” was born the Tron. Or something like that.Seddon Park winds down after a match•Sharda Ugra/Sharda Ugra/ ESPNcricinfoAt Seddon Park, MS Dhoni has just finished a post-match TV interview and sees Niall O’Brien waiting on the boundary line to talk to the broadcasters. MS considerately checks with Niall whether it’s okay for him to get into the press tent and be done with the print reporters. So he can get back and play football with his guys. He thinks he’s talking to William Porterfield.March 10
On the bus from Hamilton to Auckland, reading the , whose front page talks about a green light given to the last leg of a billion-dollar Waikato Expressway and the death, at age 20, of Smokey, the region’s most famous cat, best known for comforting local hospital patients, after being hit by a car. The bus moves at a steady, senior-citizen pace that would vastly amuse bus drivers of all ages across India – which would have been no country for poor Smokey.March 11
Eden Park, the All Blacks’ legendary fortress and the only sports stadium in the world that has a French high-fashion label named after it. You rarely see pictures of stadiums from the outside, and if you do, they rarely stick in the memory. You usually see club houses, stands, backdrops of buildings, gasworks and mountains from the inside looking out. If someone had shown me a photograph of the exterior of Eden Park and said it was the Supreme Court of New Zealand, I would have believed him. But not when you spot the gravity-defying sculpture of Michael Jones moments before scoring the first try in the first rugby World Cup, in 1987 at Eden Park. The sculptor? The daughter of the press photographer who took the picture of the try being scored.4:43
Jumping off the Auckland Sky Tower
March 12
The SkyJump. Courtesy Tourism New Zealand, for whom the vast horde of us Indian cricket journos must be PR boot camp. Tourism NZ come through with Goweresque “fun, style and excellence”. In 2002, I did the SkyWalk, courtesy my own bank account, and swore that if I ever returned to Auckland, I would do a bungee. It is seven years later and head-first dives towards a river are not wise. The SkyJump, a controlled fall down a very tall tower with your back connected to tall steel cables, can be handled.The girls handling the jumpers at the top of the Sky Tower (“thetallestbuildinginthesouthernhemisphereat192m”) say, “Look ahead, don’t look down.” Don’t look down 629ft. Advice from colleague George Binoy, a veteran of various Iron Man-type jumps, climbs and dives: “Trust the equipment and go for it.” I do.I would like to believe I leapt off the tower, but I probably merely stepped off and dropped like a large boulder. There is a video camera strapped to the wrist and time to be goofy, but all you see are buildings whizzing past. As if you are the elevator about to be involved in a tragic urban accident. I land on all fours; it is not dignified.March 14
Eden Park on the inside. How could it instantly not become one of my favourite cricket grounds? Stop the fussing about the boundaries being small and the ground looking like it’s a cricket oval squashed on its head, turned into a shape that would have caused Euclid to throw tablets – the real ones, guys, made of stone – at his students. Who cares. In a world of Scandinavian minimalism, Ikea symmetry and square corners, Eden Park is marvellously eccentric. Like Calatrava and Gaudi were given contracts to design it, got into a terrific argument and walked off, leaving their drawings behind. It also offers utter journalistic joy – a large, open press box, set amidst the crowd in all its insanity and idiosyncrasy. On India v Zimbabwe night, insanity mixed with some dire Bollywood music, but you can’t have everything, no?After Dhoni finishes his press conference it is 11pm. Turn the corner from the press conference area and there awaits an act of kindness. Plates of warm samosas and , bowls of nuts and snacks. Tea and coffee. The way to sports journos’ hearts is not through revolutions or regulation, order or oratory. It is through their stomachs, with something warm to eat after a long day with copy still left to file. And press conference interview transcripts. Every time I see those two things, I love the ICC. Not the high-ranking officials, please note, the paid staffers. The kind ones who don’t poison you even when opportunity presents itself over and over again at a World Cup.Indian fans in the days before the party was pooped•International Cricket CouncilMarch 18
Two days before the quarter-final, an anguished journalist asks Shakib al Hasan, in Bangla, to put the fans out of their misery. “It is being said that the percentage of our chances of winning are from 10 to 33. Fans back home have expectations. Please tell us that our chances, those percentages, are more?” Shakib tries to offer some solace: “Actually it doesn’t help calculating percentages. It all depends on how one plays on the field.”March 26
On the Albert “Tibby” Cotter Walkway to the SCG, an English couple from Bolton, loyal followers of the England team, are heading to the India v Australia semi-final. When he runs into the first Indian he meets, me, David Kaye says, “Okay, now, we will have to be polite inside the ground, polite and quiet and maintain decorum.” Then he laughs. These Bolton wanderers have heard about the Indian fans but are here to see them for the first time in an ODI match. Their trip covers only the knockouts. They arrived in Australia knowing that their beloved England “would be gone before we got here”.March 27
Downbeat Indian fans in Sydney are hard to miss. They have travelled long distances to follow their team; they had startled, then surprised and for a while even worried the World Cup hosts in Australia with their energy and their ability to show support and generate a constant soundtrack of noise every minute, every match. A few from Zambia are crushed by what they called the “lack of fight” at the SCG the night before. Against bowling of high quality and high pace, I ask, how do you define fight? Hanging on till the end, maybe? Going-for-broke shots to cause flutterings of anxiety in the opposition? Like Shikhar Dhawan did for a while. The fans have found a term for it. It’s called “doing a Yuvi”.At the ESPNcricinfo “Lunch with Legends”, a memorable Michael Holding memorable quote: “Twittering is for birds.” #wisdomMarch 29
It is the World Cup final, the crowd has poured in. Australia shut the door on New Zealand in about the first over, removing Brendon McCullum, and the match ends with Aussie classic rock. There are celebrations, the bar at the press box has been opened, people are typing, others are talking rubbish. Inside three hours, the ground is empty, the stands are cleared, the confetti and glitter are being hoovered up. They have even begun to remove and roll up the drop-in pitch to carry away. As if a few hours ago this had not been the place where 93,000 people turned up and the home team won a world championship. The 2015 World Cup is over. On Thursday, the footy season will take over Melbourne. Goodbye, world. Be gone, now.
