Ten Years Of Gully Cricket

About 10 years ago, my dear wife and I decided to shift to Bangalore from Bombay.  Our rationale was straightforward. Good climate during most of the year.  And equidistant from Madras (where my folks are congregated) and Mangalore (where she hails from).  But she had one distinct advantage in that many of her folks lived in Bangalore and I had none.  And between us, we had zero friends when we arrived bag and baggage.  Not one family.  All our other friends, strewn over India, tried to frighten us a bit by saying it would be so difficult to form friendships at our age, post 50! But then, we were veterans of so many moves in our lives, into various cities in different countries, where we found good friends  without fail.  So Bangalore should not pose a great problem; that was our repartee.  What made everything a breeze eventually was nothing but the game of Cricket.  Vista, the community into which we moved, had a fairly large cricket team, indulging in gully cricket every Sunday.  The moment I strolled across to the `ground', which is actually a T-junction within the community, surrounded by villas, a very warm welcome awaited me from some 15 co-residents who had assembled there. That was, until I said I wanted to play.  I would be prevaricating, if I did not mention the fact that my grey hair and build received a rather lukewarm reception and the doubts changed to outright disbelief when I mentioned that I have been a wicket-keeper all my life.  They took time to reluctantly hand over the gloves to me and many were very solicitous to ensure that I did not get hurt during my foolish escapade!  The rest, to use a cliche, is history.  My dear wife and I have some 50 families in our community, which we can call `close' and many of these relationships we owe to my initiation into gully cricket in Vista.

The name of the cricket club is Vista Breakfast and Cricket Club (VBCC) and the priority should be clear from that.  Mercifully, however, we do have a quick snack of assorted pastries, puffs and drinks AFTER the game, not before.  Having said that, we do organize a full fledged breakfast for members and their families a few times in a year and based on hard evidence, one can assert that on those breakfast days, the game gets terribly over-crowded!  The venue is a cul-de-sac with houses on all sides.  The only reason most of the residents of those houses do not complain is that they are all founders of the team and play regularly.  A couple of renters, who moved in later and resented the early morning noise and balls smashing into glass windows etc were coerced to join as players or cajoled into letting things be.  The game has never stopped!

First time one plays, one finds it tough to reconcile the physical age of the participants (the eldest being yours truly at 67 and younger ones are in thirties and forties, except for the occasional presence of some genuine youngsters) and the general behaviour on the field.  At the positive end, what contributes to this is primarily the zest, spirit, competitiveness and intensity involved in the game.  On the other side, pretty frequently people indulge in deportment that immature school children may find embarrassing.  Actually, when a couple of youngsters, about 16, stopped coming to play for a few weeks, I asked them why and the answer was very truthful and hilarious simultaneously. `Uncle, you guys sledge, talk and fight more than you play; we don't like that'.  Touche!!  Pretty much the truth, that.  But then, the players are not likely to change anything because the intended agenda includes just not cricket and breakfast, but also some serious sledging and genuine school-day fun.  If there is some meddling with the various components of the game, a lot of the lustre will be lost and things might degenerate to being mundane.

The process begins with a group WhatsApp message on Saturday from the ever-ebullient organizer, asking for commitment to play on Sunday.  If less than 10 commit, the game is off. Six fielders, aside from bowler and wicket keeper, are good enough because we have a plethora of trees, parked cars and frequent intruders in transit who get hit once in a while, who can all add to fielding muscle.  We need 5 per side minimum, even assuming everyone fields for both innings and the umpire is conveniently done away with, so that the room for fights and acrimony during the game increases multi-fold.    Even otherwise, the poor umpire who is from the batting side, is usually the last person to give any decision, after polling all those who have a say and generally the majority rules, seldom what is probably right.  Out of some respect for the oldest player who is keeping wickets, sometimes the decision is left to him only because no one else has seen even that little necessary to start a fracas.  And the most sensible course of action for him obviously is to say `I am not sure', so that others continue to indulge in verbal assaults after a short pause, while he gets to retain that modicum of respect that surfaces occasionally on the field.  There have been occasional successful attempts to cause grievous bodily injury to the wicket keeper, unmindful of his age. These were accomplished by batsmen over-zealously trying to cut a ball (which was too close and absolutely uncuttable), well after it had passed the wickets and then some distance, intruding into the territory usually occupied by the face of the wicket keeper. One more reason the old guy judicially maintains neutrality when a referred appeal involves some normally friendly chap who may decide suddenly to taste blood for no overtly explicable reason!

Team selection is managed mostly by one individual, well yes, ONE. One, who wants to captain at least one side, if not both, even though he pretends to be satisfied with being just a member of one team. And he selects the team in way that enhances his chances of leading both; pliable chaps are  selected as captains to ensure this happens. All done in good fun, without any ulterior motive. Then this individual manipulates the bowling changes, batting order, field placements, who umpires etc for both sides, but is careful to ask his own captain where he himself should field, or when he should bat or bowl.  Just to be seen as a good soldier.

There are a few, very passionate Commissioners involved (you see, we may be chaotic but in a very structured set-up), who drive the rules etc, if necessary, on the fly.  What they decide better be accepted even if the majority is utterly unconvinced, because otherwise you have on hand, a couple of sulking and disinterested individuals, who were excited and very involved till the rule discussion disrupted the game.  Even if  these blokes are away for a month, we text them and ask for approval to amend the rule or just do the change for the duration of their absence and noiselessly slide back to status-quo-ante when they resume.

Sniping or sledging happens all the time and same-side sledging is a defining characteristic of VBCC. Actually between two balls, the umpire and the other players wait for someone to start and finish the sledge before resuming.  As a matter of fact, the umpire starts the sledging quite often. If the game takes about 2 hours for 12 overs a side, 1.5 hours are for the actual play, the rest dedicated to traffic interruptions and sledging/fighting.  This is pretty much the standard schedule and nobody worries about time being wasted, unless he is being sledged too much or he has no repartee to spare.

Serious fights break out, all verbal, seldom physical (being an optimist, I am not saying`never') but thankfully they never leave scars on the those indulging in verbal pyrotechnics, who are all neighbours, occupying the next or opposite house inside the community. But on the field, it looks like all hell has broken out and until the intensity of the fight subsides some members who are left as dumb spectators, just loll around on the lawns, watching the unseemly skirmish unravelling fast. After the game, all is forgotten and everyone joins in the aforesaid snack and tea regimen.  All is well.  I have a feeling that our gully cricket has survived and flourished over the past decade, primarily because of the implicit understanding that after the game or at least after a few days, all should be well.

No lbw, so one can stop straight balls impudently with legs; searing words might be directed at you and even faster balls at your legs.  The physical scars heal and there is no mental trauma in the first place!  No leg umpire, so it is a free for all when it is a stumping or run out at the striker's end.  Whoever is more voluble wins and either the bunch of fielders close to the wicket or the batting team are left miffed for a few more overs.  The straight umpire, as mentioned earlier, is the last person to be involved in most dismissals, with everyone else having a firm opinion and the umpire not even allowed to get in edgeways. There are rules regarding half-out (when a shot hits a prescribed wall directly and most of the time the word `directly' creates massive confusion due to interpretation), on deflection of a shot when some tree branch or something else gets in the way (not even the Commissioners are clear about this one, we get as ad-hoc as possible in this with imaginary measurements of the angle of deflection being brought in frequently) and runs to be granted if the ball gets into a bush or under a car (bush, car and all other terms are subject to liberal and outlandish interpretations).  These are the rules which cause a lot of dissension, rampant verbal assaults, eminent heartburn, but none of us wants the rules to be taken out because the character of our Sunday cricket will be irretrievably lost with that!!

Post game chai and snacks are of utmost importance.  This is the time when wounds are licked and healed; apologies, if any, are tendered half-heartedly and accepted enthusiastically (driving home the point once more vociferously) and technicalities not accepted on the field are conceded and positions reconciled.  Hence the collective pride in the name and penchant for the breakfast part.

Disclaimer: No offence to any one, please.  But if many are offended, I might write a sequel, with detailed delineation of characters in VBCC.  And, please leave that poor, old wicket keeper alone!

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