Reminiscence: My first match
I grew up in a district that has long been a breeding ground for many renowned athletes and also one that hosted a lot of national events, apart from local leagues of football, cricket, hockey and many other sports. So, there was never a shortage of enthusiasm among locals for sports, be it national meets or local, and I was no exception. Although most memories have now faded, I can still recall some instances at Shamsul Huda Stadium in Jashore.
Now, having already reached the wrong side of 40, one childhood sporting memory is still vivid -- that of spectators rappelling up a side of the stadium to enter the gallery to watch an exhibition football match between Jessore District Ekadosh and the BKSP team that had created buzz across the country by winning the Dana & Gothia Cup abroad, although the result and performances of BKSP stars has now totally faded from memory.
I wasn't given any opportunities to travel to Dhaka to watch any big matches involving Mohammedan SC and Abahani from the stands, so I did not miss the opportunity to stand witness whenever the chance came my way after being admitted at a university in Dhaka in 1996.
After completing my Masters from a university in Dhaka, I unexpectedly entered sports journalism and that gave me a lot of chances to watch international and domestic matches live from the press box. But watching the ICC Wills International Cup fixture between South Africa and England from the BNS galley in 1998 is something that is still fresh in my mind.
Having waited for nearly three hours on Elephant Road early in the morning, we bought 10 tickets from the bank and our wait was finally over as a group of 10 male and female friends carrying snacks, water and placards of four and six, entered the lower part of Western Gallery to watch my first international match in 1998.
In 1996, after entering, there was a bitter experience that I still recall to those close to me. I, along with two other university friends, went to Bangabandhu National Stadium to watch the league clash between Mohammedan and Abahani in 1996. We entered the north-west gallery at about 2:00pm, three hours before the scheduled kick-off in the hope of watching a high-voltage match sitting in the gallery.
The gallery at the BNS, as expected, seemed empty except for some spectators, split into five or six groups, playing cards, and we had big smiles on our faces. But it lasted only a few minutes as we failed to find a spot. We stepped up to find seats but we time and again heard a common call: "Oh bhai, can't you see the papers laid on the gallery; that place is booked, go elsewhere."
It brought to mind the famous line from Ancient Mariner -- "Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink". To us, it was – empty space, empty space everywhere, nor any seat to sit.
We had suffered for three hours before the start of the match and spent nearly another two hours to view the Abahani-Mohammedan match live from the gallery for the first time in our lives, but the experience at BNS was totally different for the England-South Africa match two years later.
Although cricketing support in the country was mostly divided along Indian and Pakistani lines, I supported South Africa and enjoyed the day-night match, watching the performances of Jacques Kallis, Jonty Rhodes, Hansie Cronje, Daryll Cullinan, Pat Symcox and others in the flesh.
All of those well-built cricketers looked gigantic each to me and I enjoyed some stellar fielding displays from Rhodes and the bowling of Kallis. England batsmen, however, struggled against the disciplined bowling from South Africa, the swashbuckling and timely innings in the lower-middle order from Adam Hollioake really enthralled me and England put a challenging target for South Africa.
The scene under the floodlights perhaps entranced me more than Hollioake's innings, as each of the cricketer really appeared different to me. It may have been because of their height, the brightness of their dresses, my hidden excitement or the frequent thunderous applause.
South Africa were on course for a win and we all left the stadium a bit before, thinking that we would fail to find any transport to head back to the university's dormitories when all spectators would get out altogether. That night I, along with other friends, left the stadium but took with us some sweet memories that have lasted 22 years and counting.
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