WHAT is played in coloured clothes under the lights; is telecast live with ball-by-ball commentaries, insets and slo-mo replays; attracts ‘insta-dia’ advertising and ads between overs; and provides nail-biting finishes to viewers and big prize money to players?
If you’re thinking of pyjama cricket, you’re right. And then again, you’re wrong. This is tennis ball cricket, Bangalore style, with the inspiration coming from Mumbai. The competition is more intense, and there’s more money in it than in leather ball cricket.
Almost every member of the Karnataka brigade plays the game with the softer ball, though not with the same proficiency as with the hard ball, and every budding cricketer is encouraged to do so, especially during the off-season. The only difference is it’s on cable television, not satellite.
The new kids on the block, bowler D. Ganesh and batsman R. Vijay, are said to be especially good with the tennis ball. And Brijesh Patel, otherwise very busy with his sprawling business interests, is just a phone call away from a game, come hell or high water, especially the latter. "It improves a batsman’s reflexes because the ball comes on so fast. It improves a bowler’s pace and flight because there is more subtlety involved. And it improves a fielder’s skills because the breeze is a big factor," says R. Sudhakar Rao, a former India reserve. "And above all, it’s all so frenetic, it helps you keep fit."
Usually limited to 20 or 30 overs a side, tennis ball tournaments are a rage. Prize money upwards of Rs 25,000 for the best side is assured and the top teams make up to Rs 1 lakh each year. One Bangalore team, in fact, has two Maruti Omnis—both purchased with prize money won in different tourneys—for its players to crisscross the state. And earn some more.
Safer and cheaper than cricket with the harder ball, tennis ball cricket is played all year round, even during the rainy season, and mostly barefoot. One fast bowler returned soon after his international debut for a match in hawaii slippers. The footwear snapped as he steamed in. But the speedster continued after procuring a safety pin from a spectator.
The former chairman of the national selection committee, Gundappa Viswanath, had no such luck. Caught playing in the prime of his career, he was warned—in good humour—by the state’s cricket Godfather, the late M. Chinna-swamy: "This is the last time I will see you playing tennis ball cricket."
But Vishy continued on the sly. As did the others who followed him. And it did not hurt.
