The 3 Mistakes Of My Life (18 page)

hunters?'

'Say it,' Ish said to me in a hushed voice.

'Get your senior. I want to talk to him.'

'Why?' the hairy guard said.

I flashed out a card. It said 'Zuben Singh, Chairman, Wilson Sport,' Pandit-ji

had once met the chairman of the biggest sports company in India. I had

borrowed the card from his trunk.

I own Wilson Sports. We want to talk about some endorsement deals. Now will

you cooperate or...'

The security guard broke into a sweat and called his manager, I repeated the

story to him. He called the senior-most security person who came in a suit. I

made a fake phone call pretending to talk about ten-crore-rupees business

orders. He remained sceptical, I ended another call in Gujarati and his face

softened.

'Gujarati?' he said.

I stared at him, trying to decipher the better answer. In India you don't know

whether someone will like you or hate you because you are from a certain place.

'Yes,' I said guardedly.

'Oh, how are you?' he said in Gujarati. Thank God for India's various regional

clubs.

I just landed from Ahmedabad,' I said.

'Why have you come without an appointment?' he said.

'I came to see the match. I saw the Australians play and thought maybe we

could find a brand ambassador.'

'Why Australian? Why don't you take an Indian?'

A totally irrelevant question, but it hinted at his growing belief is us. 'Can't

afford the Indian team. The good players are too expensive. The bad ones, well,

tell me, will you buy a bat endorsed by Ajit Agarkar?'

The guard nodded. He spoke into a microphone hanging from his ear and

turned to us.

'One of you stay with us,' the security head said.

'He will,' I said and pointed to Omi.

'One guard will accompany you. What about the kid? He has

to go?'

'Oh yes, he is in the campaign. You see, we are doing a coach and student

theme.'

The gates creaked open. The guards frisked us to the point of molestation.

Finally, we made it to the enclosure. We walked through

the posh, red fibre-glass seats and sat down in an empty row. We had the best

view in the stadium. We came after the Indian innings had ended. Australia

would bat now. Apart from the batsmen on

crease, their team would be in the stands soon.

'Omi will be ok?' Ish whispered. I nodded.

'We will wait for the Australian team to come, ok?' I said to the security guard

lest he became suspicious again. He nodded.

'Are you from Gujarat?' Ish asked him.

'No,' the guard said. He looked upset, as if a Gujarati girl broke his heart.

'Hey, look slowly five rows behind,' Ish said.

I turned. There was a young Sikh boy in a burgundy turban wearing the Indian

team dress.

'Sharandeep Singh, the twelfth man. He may be in the team noon. Should I go

shake his hand?'

'Don't be nuts. One suspicion you are star-struck and they will kick our asses

out of here,' I said.

'Can I take that?' Ali said as waiters in white uniforms walked a round with

soft drinks.

'Pretend you own a two-hundred-crore company. Go for it Ali,' I said.

Soon we were all drinking Fanta in tall glasses. Thank God lor sponsors.

Murmurs rippled in our stand. Everyone turned back to see men in yellow

dresses emerge from the dressing room. Ish clutched my hand tight as he saw the

Australian team members. They came and sat two rows ahead of us.

'That is Steve Waugh, the Australian captain,' Ish whispered in my ear. I could

hear his heart beat through his mouth.

I nodded and a deep breath. Yes, everyone was there - Bevan, Lehman,

Symonds and even McGrath. But we didn't come here to check out the Australian

team like awestruck fans. We were he for a purpose.

'Ish bhaiya, there is Ponting, in the pads. He is one down,' Ali's scream ruined

my effort to act placid.

A few people noticed, but looked away as Ali was a kid. True VIPs never

screamed at stars even though they liked to hang around them.

A young white man, whom I did not recognise came and sat one row ahead of

us. He wore the Australian team shirt, but had a pair of casual khaki shorts on.

With curly hair and deep blue eyes, he could not be more than twenty.

The VIPs clapped as Adam Gilchrist hit a six. In the general stalls, there was a

silence of misery. Ish wanted to curse the bowler, but sense prevailed and he kept

silent.

The Australian team hi-fived at the six. The curly haired boy-man in f&nt

pumped his fists.

Ali finished his third Fanta.

'Go talk. I have done my job,' I prompted Ish.

'After a few overs, let the match settle,' Ish said.

Australia lost their first wicket of Hayden at a score of seventy and there was a

dignified applause in the VIP enclosure. Ponting was cheered by teammates as he

went out to take the crease. Srinath dismissed Ponting three balls later.

Ish could not contain himself any longer. 'Yes, go Srinath go,' Ish cheered as I

stopped him from standing up on his chair. A few people smirked at the quality of

lowlife making it to the VIP stands these days. Bevan, already padded up, left for

his innings. The curly haired boy-man turned around to look at Ish.

'Go, India go. We can do this. Series win, c'mon we are 2-2,' Ish said to himself.

The boy-man stared at us. Ish became conscious.

'It's ok. Good on ya, mate!' he said.

'Sorry, we...,' I said.

'I'd do the same thing if it were my team,' he said. Here was a chance to talk.

Maybe he was a team member's brother or something.

I nudged Ish with my elbow.

'Hi,' Ish said. 'I'm Ishaan, we have come from Ahmedabad in Gujarat. And he is

Zubin, he owns Wilson sports. And this here

is Ali.'

'Good to see you Hi, I am Fred. Fred Li.' 'You play in the team?' I asked Fred.

'Not right now, back problem. But yes, started playing for Australia a year ago.'

'Batsman?'

'Bowler, pace,' Fred answered.

'Fred, we need to talk. About this boy. We really need to talk,' Ish said, his

breath short with excitement.

'Sure mate, I'll come on over,' Fred said and lunged over to sit next to Ish.

The security guard relaxed as he saw us with someone white. We must be

important enough after all.

Ish finished his story in an hour.

'You want me to test him? Mate, you should show him to your selectors or

something.'

'Trust me, if Indian selectors were up to the job, we wouldn't lose so many

matches to a country with one-fiftieth the people. No offence.'

'We are a tough team to beat. There are several reasons for that,' Fred said

slowly.

'Well, that is why I want you to test him. I have groomed him for almost a year

now, and will continue to do so. We travelled twenty-four hours to meet someone

in your team because I trust you.'

'And what would that do? What if I told he was good?'

'If you say the boy has world-class potential, I will give up my life to get him out

there, I swear. Please, just bowl a few balls to him.'

'Mate, if I started doing that to everyone that came along...'

'I beg you, Fred. Sportsman to sportsman. Or rather, small sportsman to big

sportsman.'

Fred stared at Ish with unblinking blue eyes.

'I played for my district, too. Never had the guidance to go further,' Ish

continued. 'I wasted my studies, fought with my parents, threw away my career

for this game. This means everything to me. Not everyone coming to you will be

like that.'

Fred smiled at that. 'Mate, you Indians are good at this emotional stuff. Trust

me, I gave up a lot for this game, too.'

'So you agree?'

'Four balls, no more. After the match. Stay nearby,' Fred said and loped back

to his seat. 'And you better hope Australia wins so I remain in a good mood to

keep my promise.'

Ish's smile froze. I can't do that. I can't wish against India.'

'Kidding mate. You guys are better at emotions. But we take the-piss better,'

Fred winked.

Half the Aussie lingo was beyond me, but we smiled anyway.

'Call our friend, we need him,' I said firmly to the guard.

Two minutes later, Omi joined us. He came in so thirsty he grabbed Ali's drink.

'What the hell were you guys doing? 1 waited two hours?'

'Making friends,' I said, smiling back at Fred as Australia hit a four.

Australia won the match, but Ish didn't have time for remorse. He had to pad

up Ali.

We came to the ground half an hour after the final match ceremonies.

'He is a pace bowler.' Ish turned to Ali, 'Do you want a helmet?'

Ali shook his head.

'Wear it.' Ish strapped the helmet on to Ali's head.

'Ready, mate?' Fred called from the bowler's end.

Ali nodded. Ish took the wicketkeeper's place. Fred took a ten-step run-up with

a ferocious expression. The ball zoomed past Ali. Ish stepped back to catch it.

'Gifted?' Fred said to me as he prepared another run-up.

'Hey, what's up Ali?' Ish said.

'I cannot see. The ball is white. And the foreigner makes scary faces.'

'Ignore the face. Look at the ball,' Ish said as he pulled out the helmet. Omi ran

to adjust the black screen on the boundary.

Fred bowled a perfect second delivery. Ali struck this time. The bat deflected

the ball forty-five degrees. The ball stayed low but did not bounce until it crossed

the boundary. Six.

'Bloody hell! Where did that come from?' Fred said.

'Two more balls,' I said. I was aware of what was happening inside Fred's head.

The feeling of being trampled, mutiliated and vanquished by a mere boy had only

begun.

Fred's third ball went for a four and the last one for a six. His face looked more

humiliated than scary. And no matter how many times he said 'mate', his tone

had turned from calm to anxious. He looked like someone who had been shaken

of all his convictions about cricket.

'How did he do that?' Fred muttered, tugging at his curly hair.

We looked at Ali. He sat down on the floor and held his head.

'You ok?' Ish said. The pressure had gotten to Ali. 'What's up?' Fred said.

'Being extra focused takes a lot out of him. He needs to recoup after a few big

hits. I taught him to play a full innings in the neighbourhood but today...'

'Stress, mate, all that travel and you shove a scary white guy in his face,' Fred

said.

'He has to face this,' Ish said. He bent down to remove Ali's pads.

'Yep, needs stamina and training, but will go places,' Fred said.

'You think so?' 'That's Fred's verdict.'

'Hey guys can you hang on, I need to make a call.' Fred said and stepped away

to dial a number on his cellphone. I couldn't hear Fred but he had a ten-minute

animated conversation before he returned to us.

'Thanks, Fred,' Ish said. I could see the pride in Ish's face.

Goodonya. Why don't you guys bring him down to Australia for a while? Hang

out and practice in my academy,' Fred invited like going to Australia was as

simple as taking an auto to Navrangpura. 'Really?' Ish said.

Yeah right, I thought. We had scraped to get second-class tickets for Goa. We

were leaving the same night to save money. Yet, Ish wanted to go to Australia.

'We can't, Fred,' I intervened.

'Why?' Fred asked.

'Can't afford it. I don't own a cricket business.' 'What?'

'I run a small cricket shop. We lied to get into your enclosure for this.'

The air became tense.

'Holy Moly,' Fred smiled, 'You guys! Some gumption. Anyway, I am no rich guy

either like your Indian team players. So that's cool by me. But you could have got

into trouble there if caught.'

'I had to make sure Ali gets tested by the best,' Ish said.

'Then get him to Australia. I leave India tomorrow. How big is your business?'

'It is kind of small,' Ish said. 'And tickets are expensive.'

'Well, one of my ex-girlfriends works with Qantas. Let me see what I can do,'

Fred said as we walked back. 'It is just Ish and Ali right?'

'That's fine,' I said quickly.

'No, we are partners Fred. Either we all come together or not. We need four

tickets,' Ish said.

'Hang on,' Fred said as he stepped away to make another

call.

'All right,' Fred said as he returned, 'I can do four tickets.' 'Wow,' Ish exclaimed,

'look Ali, this is because of you.'

Ali smiled.

'But July is better,' Fred said, 'it is winter in Australia and tickets are cheaper.'

'July works,' I said. 'We can't come in the summer vacation, that's peak sales

season.'

I figured apart from the tickets, there would be expense on
passports, visas and

living expenses during the trip. I needed some time to save for that. I didn't have

to do it, but it's not every day you get to go international.

Twelve

There is some junk around here. But it will be a great store for your shop,'

Mama said, opening the door of a dilapidated godown.