Kolkata Knight Riders

I’ve been to the New Home of Cricket today, Calcutta (or Kolkata) to be precise for this month has seen the start of the inaugural season of the Indian Premier League. I’m not sure if it’s making ripples in Europe but its waves have been rising to a crescendo in this part of the world. In many ways it’s bigger than cricket. It is a potent symbol of the emergence of a new world power and encapsulates its brash confidence perfectly. And last night I was there to witness it first hand as I saw Kolkata Knight Riders play their first home game of the season versus Hyderabad’s Deccan Chargers. When I arrived at the Eden Gardens stadium the atmosphere was pulsating. The mid-afternoon heat blazed down on a roaring crowd of 75,000 people who were singing and dancing and may even have been there to see some cricket. Except the cricket was often little more than a break between the cheerleaders, the celebrities, and the Bollywood beats blasting out of speakers. It was like cricket had been crossed with American Football, wrestling, the circus, and a Roman gladiatorial battle. To see how far the game has come you just have to look at the new kits. Gone are the days of whites, and in their place the Knight Riders wear an absurd kit that is mostly golden spangles. Even the helmets and shin pads are gold. Overnight it’s like the sport has mutated from an old respectable albeit slightly dull gentleman into a raving masked wrestler. Presiding over all of this was Shah Rukh Kahn who is officially India’s king celebrity. His God like status dwarfs anything Beckham was able to muster in his heyday. Any time this man waved or talked to a neighbour or stood up the whole crowd went crazy with enraptured adulation, chanting his name cheering and standing on their chairs to get a better look at him. You just don’t see that for Roman Abramovich.

I must confess I felt rather English at times, rather politely tapping on the back of the bloke in front of me who was standing on his chair gyrating maniacally. ‘Excuse me squire I’d dearly like to see some of the game if that’s alright with you.’ No chance. Luckily I’m taller than the average Bengali by a good foot or so which meant I could see most of the game. I’m quite new to cricket but I couldn’t help feeling a buzz of anticipation when Gilchrist and Symonds teamed up at the wicket (is that the expression?) for these players represent some of the best talent in the world. Ponting was out off the first ball and Ganguly did nothing in particular but it was still great to see them.

Then the lights went out. Now the game had not been going as planned anyway. The big screen didn’t work, the water had ran out, the toilets weren’t functioning and the pitch (is it a pitch?) was a shambles. Kolkata were staring defeat in the face and the mood was becoming downbeat if not a little hostile. Then two of the four floodlights failed and we were plunged into semi darkness. The players left the field and the mood of the brooding crowd hung on a knife edge. So what did I do? I left. That meant I missed the end of the game and Kolkata’s eventual triumph as the lights came back half an hour later, but I stand by the decision. I’ve been to many parts of the world and have emerged largely unscathed. This, in my opinion, is partly because I get out of situations that I think may be volatile. The crowds in this part of the world are notorious for becoming very mean very quickly and Bengalis in particular are hot blooded and have shorter fuses than even the Spanish. Imagine, I thought, if the other two lights go out. I’ll be stuck in a stadium with 75,000 miffed Bengalis in almost total darkness. It was like I was stood in a large room full of cans of petrol and boxes of fireworks and someone had just walked in with a match. No thanks.

It was an awesome, exhilarating, slightly terrifying evening. And just to quote a match report from the Indian Telegraph today: ‘The stands were rife with an ominous on-the-edge sense. A trigger and Eden (Gardens) could have become another tragic spectacle.’ Nice to know I wasn’t just being paranoid.