My First Wingman

It’s 2:30 PM on a Wednesday. He is on a leave from office today. Listening to the radio while prepping the dishes for lunch, knowing his son will be home from school any moment now. The bell rings. His son runs in & drops the school bag by the side. “I didn’t really understand what you told me yesterday, let’s sit again, NOW!” the kid’s voice showed urgency. The father pushes for having lunch first but knows his son isn’t going to wait. So he gets a pen & paper and the two sit down at the dining table. “So, which part should we go over again?” the father asks his ten-year-old son.
“The follow-on system in test matches..” the son promptly responds.

The story above is one among the many cricket centric interactions I have had with my father, which as a matter of fact, started quite early. Remember how as a child, we used to practice maths by solving the addition & subtraction sums from the textbook? I had a slightly different curriculum at times, one where my father would give questions regarding different test match scenarios & I had to deduce the right answer – the 4^th innings target, the follow on margin, the lead, the trail, the result. Numbers and cricket, for me, a match made in heaven, entered my life at a very young stage.

I developed an interest in cricket from the age of 10 and my father was the one who introduced me to consuming the sport on TV. Little did he know that his interest in the sport would only grow manifold for his son, sometimes to his own dismay. The older I grew, the more mature & detailed our discussions became - the best cricketing moments, the most peculiar players, the match winning performances, the failure, the struggle, the jubilation. We would sit glued to the TV set & discuss the happenings, take a trip down memory lane when we went for a stroll in the park, and of course, the occasional game of cricket on the terrace between the father – son. 

As I grew fonder of the sport, I began to transcend the boundaries of “consuming cricket”. Staying up till late, waking up early, watching the entire 90 overs of play, reading through articles & magazines, collecting pictures from newspapers -  anything & everything that involved cricket.

We gradually reached a point where now I was his source of update about the cricketing events – big & small. Where once he used to wake me up at 5:30 in the morning for the test match in Australia, now I was waking him up after midnight because the India V Pakistan match had gone into a bowl out at the World T20 in South Africa.

Then came the IPL, one where our loyalties went separate ways. He was a Dhoni admirer and hence CSK supporter, & Pune for the last two years. I supported Rahul Dravid – so my loyalties moved from Royal Challengers Bangalore to Rajasthan Royals & then Delhi Daredevils for the last two seasons. Over the years, we developed this gesture of our own wherein we would congratulate each other on their team’s victory. And when the two sides were against each other, post the result, the losing team's supporter would graciously congratulate his counterpart. What first started off as a routine soon became a tradition as the years progressed.

And this tradition didn’t cease even after I left home to pursue higher education. We would text each other, sometimes words of congratulations, at others, of encouragement.  It was also quite funny, in a way that both our favourite teams got suspended for a couple of years.  And now when my job keeps me away from home, the tradition still carries on. We kept a track of the matches of the two teams – Pune & Delhi, and messaged each other the first thing after the game. And while sometimes I might forget, he never did.

It’s not a big thing. It’s not a small thing either.

I could easily write about all the things my dad taught me, the values I imbibed from him, those that made me who I am. But for today, I thought of sharing this aspect of our relationship, because it’s more personal, and dearer to me. Those who know me are aware of my love for cricket & the huge interest in its trivia & statistics, well now you know who lay the founding stone.

Cricket is my first love, and in that regard, my dad - my first wingman.

Thank you, Bajaj Saahab!
Happy Father’s Day!