"¿Un juego de 5 días? ¡Hostia, no me jodas! ¿Como puedes ver un partido por más que 90 minutos?"
<A game of 5 days? Don't fuck around with me. How can you watch a game for more than 90 minutes?>
Literally that's the reaction you would when you begin explaining a game of test cricket to a Spaniard. Or anyone for that matter from the non-commonwealth nations. But it's still a game that captivates the imagination of a nation that accounts for about a sixth of the world's population, and the millions more living away from their motherland.
To understand cricket, one must first realise the magnitude that India encompasses: 1.1 billion people from different religious backgrounds (Sí, viven gente que no son solo Hindus), speaking different languages (the census of 1962 recognized 1652 languages), divided now by vote bank politics, but there is just one thing that unites us all, whether rich or poor, black, brown or white: cricket.
That's probably because it is the only sport we can stand up to the world and say "We're much better than you." And it is probably the only thing which treats all Indians equally: it doesn't matter whether you're rich or poor, what religion you follow, what your father does and who he knows in the upper echelons of the political hierarchy. There are no special quotas for certain sections -- neither can you just pay and get into the team-- and thus in the eyes of the public the 11 men that represent the country are the real champions for having overcome all the obstacles that one faces in a nation of 1.1 billion people. They are there because they deserve to be there. And the champions of champions take a demi-god like stature.
Some tell me it is akin to football in the Latin countries. Having lived in Madrid for about 6 months now (including just before and after the time when Spain were anointed world champions in football) I can confidently say it is far greater. Italian football still seems to be struggling from the post Calciopoli fall out. The match-fixing scandal in India, which was far greater in magnitude and seemed destined to finish the game, was only a mere aberration. A Barça-Real Madrid match might have political connotations with the Catalunya-Castilla face off, but is eons away from what an India-Pakistan match is.
Even if we lose 7 or 8 test matches in a row, the Indian team will always have a massive support: they always did. Whether they were down in the abyss in the late 1990s or when they became world beaters in the 2000s. Yes we do become hysterical when the team does badly, but no one expects Gods to be humiliated by ordinary humans, do they? And moreover, no one complains "it's too much" when we raise them to the high pedestals when we win.
It's a pity that a sport keenly followed and played by a quarter of the world's population (probably only football and athletics have greater numbers) isn't considered worthy of an Olympic berth. But Olympics or not, it will always be more than just a game for us. You can take an Indian out of India, but you can't take theIndia cricket out of an Indian.
<A game of 5 days? Don't fuck around with me. How can you watch a game for more than 90 minutes?>
Literally that's the reaction you would when you begin explaining a game of test cricket to a Spaniard. Or anyone for that matter from the non-commonwealth nations. But it's still a game that captivates the imagination of a nation that accounts for about a sixth of the world's population, and the millions more living away from their motherland.
To understand cricket, one must first realise the magnitude that India encompasses: 1.1 billion people from different religious backgrounds (Sí, viven gente que no son solo Hindus), speaking different languages (the census of 1962 recognized 1652 languages), divided now by vote bank politics, but there is just one thing that unites us all, whether rich or poor, black, brown or white: cricket.
That's probably because it is the only sport we can stand up to the world and say "We're much better than you." And it is probably the only thing which treats all Indians equally: it doesn't matter whether you're rich or poor, what religion you follow, what your father does and who he knows in the upper echelons of the political hierarchy. There are no special quotas for certain sections -- neither can you just pay and get into the team-- and thus in the eyes of the public the 11 men that represent the country are the real champions for having overcome all the obstacles that one faces in a nation of 1.1 billion people. They are there because they deserve to be there. And the champions of champions take a demi-god like stature.
Some tell me it is akin to football in the Latin countries. Having lived in Madrid for about 6 months now (including just before and after the time when Spain were anointed world champions in football) I can confidently say it is far greater. Italian football still seems to be struggling from the post Calciopoli fall out. The match-fixing scandal in India, which was far greater in magnitude and seemed destined to finish the game, was only a mere aberration. A Barça-Real Madrid match might have political connotations with the Catalunya-Castilla face off, but is eons away from what an India-Pakistan match is.
Even if we lose 7 or 8 test matches in a row, the Indian team will always have a massive support: they always did. Whether they were down in the abyss in the late 1990s or when they became world beaters in the 2000s. Yes we do become hysterical when the team does badly, but no one expects Gods to be humiliated by ordinary humans, do they? And moreover, no one complains "it's too much" when we raise them to the high pedestals when we win.
It's a pity that a sport keenly followed and played by a quarter of the world's population (probably only football and athletics have greater numbers) isn't considered worthy of an Olympic berth. But Olympics or not, it will always be more than just a game for us. You can take an Indian out of India, but you can't take the
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