By Deepika Sarma
Covering a cricket match at a televised international tournament is a funny business: there’s plenty that takes getting used to. There are the walls of glass between you and the field when you’re in the press box; the tiny players down below and a game unfolding before your eyes in a way that is vastly different from the way it seems to when you’re watching on television, and the constant tap-tap by journalists typing furiously at their laptops while trying to keep an eye on the game, with the occasional “shot!” or “uzhoo!” escaping from their lips.
During the England vs Bangladesh World T20 match at Chinnaswamy stadium, the fourth in the group stage matches, and the second to be held in Bangalore, the press box was filled with a pleasant low buzz. It was the fullest I’d seen it so far – with a top foreign team like England here, there were a few members of the British press, in addition to three Bangla reporters and the Bangalore regulars who’d been around since the practice matches. Probably around 30 journalists in all.
For the first time at Chinnaswamy this tournament, there were radio commentators at the England match adding to the excitement – every four, six, wicket or otherwise interesting event was accompanied by an enthusiastic comment: “Powerful stroke!” “Oh, and she’s been bowled!” “Beautiful drive all the way to the boundary!” One of the British commentators was a young woman in a plaid shirt with a clear voice and a hearty, deep laugh that punctuated her sentences – a welcome addition to the usually silent women in the press box.
At previous matches, the voices I’d usually heard were those of cricket officials from Karnataka trying to keep track of the score. During practice matches, these were particularly entertaining as the atmosphere was informal, like having to be at school, but in “colour dress”, and scorekeeping seemed to be no fun without terrible PJs and constant arguments in Kannada. In the absence of TV crews and an active digital scoreboard before the tournament, scorekeeping, it seemed, involved a degree of wrangling between officials in the box and the officials on the field. Occasionally, an announcement such as “Four” (but said with little feeling) would be countered with an annoyed “Ey, illappa” (Hey, no man), and a mock-heated exchange would ensue. At one point during the practice match between India and Ireland, I even heard a bored and annoyed “Ey shattap” in response to a walkie talkie message from the field. Whether it was private grumbling or meant for the man at the other end to hear remains a mystery. But at the England vs Bangladesh match, with foreign guests in the box, everyone – officials, reporters, catering boys – was on best behaviour.
The last two matches played at Chinnaswamy Stadium (India vs Bangladesh and England vs Bangladesh) were televised, which meant the field was overrun with TV crews in orange T-shirts. On the opening day of the Women’s World T20, from up on high in the press box, you could see Lisa Sthalekar, Ian Bishop and Anjum Chopra, tiny people down on the field holding microphones. I hoped beyond hope that they’d come to the press box (ordinary reporters like me aren’t allowed to wander around the stadium or into the stands on match days), but had to be content with watching them on the press box’s TV screen, playing the match on mute. At Eng vs Ban I saw my hero Sthalekar again on the field, but by then I was resigned to the fact that I’d just have to watch her on TV to figure out what she was saying.
Covering a televised cricket match for the first time comes with several lessons: one is that Bangladesh’s national anthem is extremely long. The other is that unspoken peer pressure will probably force you to stand while national anthems are playing, particularly if India is one of them. Today, as neither of the teams playing is India, there are no disapproving glances at people who remain seated.
There is always a dedicated handful of women journalists in the press box for this T20 World Cup – at least four out of the maybe 15-20 journalists that have usually been in the press box are women. There’s a funny dynamic, not specific to sports journalism, where the women nearly always end up sitting near each other in the post-match press conferences or hang out together to eat (the men have their own crews anyway). But to have other women in the press box with me is an amazing feeling – there are a couple more today from the international media, and while the gender ratio here is nowhere near 50-50, for once it seems a step closer to a happy balance.
Being in the press box on match comes with some benefits: there’s the wifi, airconditioning, desks and charging points for laptops, and a superb view of the field. The part I love most, though is the food. There’s a constant supply of biscuits, tea and coffee at regular intervals. During the practice matches I once had upma and bondas at tea-time, and neer dosa, rotis and paneer makhani for dinner (followed by gajar halwa and ice cream).
Now this, I suspect, I’ll have no trouble getting used to.