Shortchanging the cricket fans

The biggest stakeholders in the game are also the most neglected lot in stadiums

A young woman looked lost at Gate No. 8 of the Green Park stadium in Kanpur. The security guards yawned and stretched when she asked where she could find a toilet. They feigned interest and asked around. More confusion prevailed. You could tell the young woman was growing impatient, not without reason.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said, anger turning into pain.

Actually, soon-to-be-married Shwetha (name changed) wasn’t able to find her fiancé in the melee as they turned up to watch the opening Test match between India and New Zealand. He had gone to pick up snacks but wasn’t where he said he would be. She wasn’t from Kanpur and she was frazzled.

During games, there is little or no network to make a phone call, jammers are installed from time to time, and even if you do get through, there is far too much noise to voice your message. Shwetha was still lost.

It’s, however, true that the unreasonably large police force entrusted with the smooth conduct of the Test match in Kanpur, was actually better than those at many other venues in the country. Even if ignorant, they were at least kind. If you didn’t know already, that’s a lot to ask for when watching a match in India.

The cops can’t be blamed, they’re doing their job. They’re under pressure to deliver and they can’t tell the difference between an unruly mob and eager fans. Basically they can’t leave anything to chance.

The problem isn’t isolated to second-tier centres like Kanpur and Ranchi. It happens at the M Chinnaswamy stadium in Bengaluru, at the Wankhede stadium in Mumbai, at the MA Chidambaram stadium in Chennai and every major stadium in the country.

Granted, the process to watch a cricket match isn’t as archaic in some of the major metropolises, but it’s far from perfect. And the Board of Control for Cricket in India doesn’t seem to care enough. Why would they when they make far more moolah off of broadcast rights?

Crores are made in selling rights to the likes of Star Sports Network and OTT platforms such as Hotstar. The tradeoff is that those who come to the stadium for that first-hand feeling, are often left wondering why they turned up at all.

In one of the uncovered stands in Kanpur sat Tripathi and his young son. Tripathi, nearly 50-years-old, runs a small general store nearby, and didn’t want to bring his wife or his two daughters because that would be ‘too much of a hassle’.

“I regret bringing him now,” he says looking at his 12-year-old son.

“There’s nothing here. At least, before these stands came up, there used to be trees and some breeze would keep the place cool. Now, it’s just hot,” said Tripathi, who clearly hasn’t been to the stadium in a while because these stands are a decade old.

“They used to allow us to bring our own food and our water cans. That also they asked us to give up at the gate. And they only sell some snacks and they’re all expensive and we need to finish even those before we enter or return to the stands. We only get popcorn and that’s Rs 70!”

Tripathi’s grievance isn’t isolated to second-tier venues. Even in Bengaluru, you can see a pile of the most bizarre stuff by the turnstiles. They belong to fans who didn’t expect policemen/ women to confiscate nearly everything on them.

“How am I supposed to not carry anything? Phone? Wallet? Sanitary pads?” remembered a young lady who was asked to do away with her belongings at an Indian Premier League game not long ago.

Basically, they want fans to enter stadiums empty-handed so as to assure the safety of everyone at the venue. But what of the primitive handling of fans? How do they enjoy the sport when they are all sweated out beforehand and on edge?

The BCCI is the most prosperous sports organisation in the country, but they appear to have forgotten where they came from. If it wasn’t for these fans, they wouldn’t be raking in the money.

Granted, a large section of the cricket-consuming demographic prefers absorbing all things cricket via phone applications or on the television but barring the benefit of instant replays, digital platforms don’t do justice to what the sport evokes in a crowd and what the crowd evokes in a person.

It’s akin to saying a pixelated Youtube clip of Sir Don Bradman or Sir Viv Richards is the same as having physically lived through the experience of the greatest batters of all time. Even Sachin Tendulkar’s greatness had to be felt at a stadium as a community and not tasted individually through the screen. The pandemic-induced absence of fans from the stands has made everyone realise the excitement they add to the sport. The fans at the ground make it a spectacle for TV audience. The two sets of audience aren’t mutually exclusive.

The BCCI must be aware that most of them were inspired when they, as youngsters themselves, went to these grounds to watch their heroes play. It wasn’t easy then too, but they now have the power to ensure they can make it better. It has come a full circle.

But the sheer magnitude of the world’s richest cricket body doesn’t allow them to be compassionate to those who want to enjoy the country’s favourite pastime outside a screen.

Outside of India, families experience cricket as a time to come together over beers and barbecue while resting on the manicured lawns. That may be a bit much to ask for here, but a seamless, maybe even pleasant, experience from home to the stands isn’t.

Maybe, just maybe, the very fact that people turn up irrespective is why the BCCI doesn’t care anymore. Then, perhaps, the fault is yours.

… eventually, Shwetha was led to the woman’s loo by a policewoman at the building meant for the media. “It’s often used by men so I have to make a scene about it before they leave,” said the policewoman. “Only so many women come to watch cricket so it’s normal to see men using ladies’ toilets,” she added.

The lesser they see and experience the lesser they play and pass on. The BCCI won’t take note, but at least you know you aren’t alone.

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