I Have the Streets: A Kutti Cricket Story

Highlights

Page 262

Weeks in advance, Appa and I have asked Amma to request tickets from her office. Her office, too, has a huge demand for tickets. They draw up a priority list, which Amma misses because the managers usually get the best tickets. So, she finds out who is getting those tickets and approaches those managers to request them. Meanwhile, Appa starts to queue up outside ticket centres the day the ticket window opens. Just in case we don’t get the complimentary ones, you know, he buys two cheaper tickets as a backup.

Note: The difficulty of getting tickets 😭

Page 799

We make it in time to report at the camp, but I am already regretting not taking up Thatha’s many offers to teach me Hindi. I can read and write Hindi, but the Hindi spoken in the world outside Tamil Nadu is nowhere close to what we are taught in textbooks. I have been cracking Hindi exams in school by using the old trick of flicking half the words from the question. If the question is, Who was India’s first prime minister? I don’t necessarily need to know the exact spelling of ‘pradhan mantri’. I can copy that from the question.

Page 904

Once I am on my way, I tell myself I am not coming back. I no longer want to be here. Where I’m going is my well, and I’m one of the best in that well. I’m happy to be there. I am returning to my well. Donning that India blue and batting with Tendulkar is the last thing on my mind. I don’t want to feel alienated, belittled, intimidated and humiliated anymore. Back home in Madras, I am more at peace with myself. I carry my India Under-17 kit to cricket practice. I help St Bede’s thrash Santhome in the traditional school cricket rivalry. I notice that I’ve returned as a better cricketer. The biggest difference is in my fitness level. Earlier, I would hit to mid-off and mid-on and just stand there. Now, I take singles every time. I am dropping and running. Without realizing, I learned all these things in the nets, from Venky speaking about it during idle time and watching others do it during the games. To score at a run a ball in school cricket is unheard of, but I am scoring 80s in 65 balls and hundreds in 80 balls, and am doing it regularly. I train in my India team gear. I can overhear people talking about how good I have become. They point to my kit. They call me the ‘India player’ behind my back. Bowlers are tentative bowling to me. I have a presence. Oh god, it means something. I enrol myself in private Hindi classes.

Note: Man good for him. Thats real mentality.

Page 342

I feel heartbroken. I don’t exactly know what I expected when I came to the nets. Yes, those fairy tales of selections of net bowlers are a thought in my mind, but not an expectation. It is something else that has hurt me. I tell my friend I have never been to a cricket match or practice session where nobody has acknowledged me. People try to find out which club you play for or which school or college you study at, but here nobody even asked me what my name was. I call up the nets organizer who had offered me the gig and tell him I will not be coming tomorrow. Instead, I go to Chemplast and train on my own. I think playing street cricket is more fun than bowling at these internationals. Over the next few days, though, I realize they didn’t do it to me because they are bad people. It is just that these are professional cricketers in their bubble, striving for excellence. They must be facing hundreds of bowlers like me. They can’t be acknowledging everyone’s presence. Worship your heroes from a distance; when you get close to them, be good enough to be one of them.

Page 443

I went up to Badri and asked him to put everybody back on the fence except the slip. Badri did, and we immediately got Yusuf out. I am lucky to have a captain who doesn’t take offence at my unsolicited advice.

Note: I can kinda see why some people don’t like him. This line feels like a dig against captains who objected to his advice.

Page 728

Just before we leave for Agartala for the matches, a reporter brings up the case of another batter who is sitting out and can also bowl seam-up. That is a rare commodity. I tell him that if Abhi doesn’t score runs, he will have to make way. I don’t put much thought into it and just say it off the cuff. Once the article comes out, Raman calls me aside and tells me I cannot say that. I tell him, ‘Sir, I just felt like it, but it’s not like we’re going to drop him.’ Raman explains to me what kind of impact it will have on Abhi. I realize Raman is right, so I immediately go and speak to Abhi. I tell him it’s not as though I’m targeting or cornering him. ‘I know you are the vice-captain of the side as well. So, I’m sure you will do well. But because he asked me in comparison to the both of you, I just made that statement. I shouldn’t have said that. It was wrong on my part,’ I say. I tell Abhi I am happy to retract the statement. Abhi says, ‘No, no, it is okay.’ It helps that he knows me, as we have played a lot of school cricket together. I know it is not easy to completely take it out of his head, but once we have had that conversation, I go into the matches with a clear head and heart. Abhi fails in both the quarter-final and the semi-final but we stick with him, and he responds with a century in the final as we lift the trophy. I tell Abhi again, ‘I did commit a mistake. It’s not like I didn’t believe you were capable of this.’ In my heart, I knew I hadn’t said the wrong thing, but Raman did me a favour by telling me I shouldn’t be saying it in public and that I should, as a captain, consider the impact my words could have on others. Raman has never held back when handling me as a captain.

Page 795

I immediately realize the said member of the support staff is trying to put me in my place. I tell Palani I am a hard-working cricketer and will not have my commitment questioned. I say to Palani but loud enough for the member of the support staff to hear, ‘If Mahi has to see me only on optional practice days and pick me, I don’t want to get picked. If it is mandatory for me to come, why call it optional practice?’

Note: Dude fights with everyone lol

Page 120

I ask him why I am being removed from the squad. ‘What wrong did I do? What must I do to get back?’ VB clearly doesn’t like it and tells me they know what they are doing. It’s about what they want to do, and they are clear about what they are going to do. He goes on to tell me that I should know that the decision-makers are there because of what they know about the game. I am not satisfied with that, and I keep prodding him. The conversation doesn’t end well. VB, though, has always been a well-wisher. He has always told MS of my ability. He knows my parents. He has always relayed news of my selection through my cousin, who is a good friend of his. This time, his call to my cousin is not a pleasant one. The gist of his communication is: What does your cousin think of himself? My cousin calls up my parents and tells them that VB is not happy with Ashwin. My parents get extremely worried and ask me what I’ve done. They even ask me if that is the reason I have been dropped. I tell them this chat happened after the drop. In fact, it happened because of the drop. Appa scolds me and asks me to be humble. I don’t understand what humility has to do with it. I had direct and honest communication with VB, but he didn’t reciprocate. Appa tells me VB has always wanted the best for me. I tell him I didn’t say anything disrespectful to VB sir. Appa tells me he doesn’t have to explain everything to me. I walk out in a huff because I’d much rather play with my RUCA friends than have an argument where nobody wants to see my point. We are playing in the middle of the street when the young man returning from the hospital hangs around to make sure I am the same guy who failed to score 1 run off 2 balls at Chepauk against Kings XI Punjab.

Page 148

When I get there, he is in the lobby and hands me an envelope. I open it to find it is a ticket for the A Stand. I am a CSK player, and he is giving me a ticket for a stand with a side view of the action. When I used to go with Appa, I would make sure to buy Pavilion Terrace tickets even when they were beyond our means. When I ask for a better ticket, one with a straight view, I am not prepared for the outburst that follows. I am told I am too small a player to be making such high demands or asking so many questions. That I should be happy with what is being given to me. I become conscious of people looking at us. I speak in a low tone so as not to draw more attention. ‘I’m not questioning you, sir, I just want to know if it’s possible to get a better ticket,’ I say, adding, ‘I am asking for a straight view so that I can enjoy the game as well as learn something.’ He flies off the handle, telling me I am completely out of my depth as a cricketer. I can’t even focus on the exact words. The embarrassment of people stopping what they are doing and looking at us is too much to handle. I leave the envelope at the reception desk, tell him I don’t need his ticket and walk off. I feel so little that someone not in charge of the cricketing side of operations is also taking a dump on me. The next day, Kasi Viswanathan, the right-hand man of N. Srinivasan and the CEO of CSK, calls me. He is nice and respectful, the complete opposite of what I had encountered yesterday. He says he heard I had an issue with the tickets offered to me. He says, ‘We don’t have better tickets, da. We have already given the Pavilion Terrace tickets to someone else. There are only A Stand tickets left. Now take it and go watch the game. For the next game, we will arrange better ones.’ I tell him I could have been told that yesterday instead of being humiliated. I politely decline the A Stand ticket, tell him I will take him up on his promise in the next match and instead watch the match on TV with my RUCA friends.

Note: Damn, this dude.

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