An apple a day...
Hemant Kenkre
Thursday, May 29, 1997: I received a call from Madhav Paralkar, vice president of the Mumbai School Sports Association. "You are coming for the Harris Shield Centenary Celebration match," was his command. "Come around four in the evening, it's a day-night game!" Oh well, how could I, the archetypical Mumbai club cricketer, miss such a summons?
Friday, May 30, 1997: Made excuses in the office - the usual "client meeting" number - and made my way to the Wankhede Stadium at 4.30 pm, not expecting any crowds since this was not Tendulkar versus Ambrose, but merely Tendulkar versus Apte. Since I did not have a pass, I was preparing to bluff my way through the Polly Umrigar Gate with an old press pass issued to me by Rajan Bala, sports Editor of the Afternoon Despatch and Courier, the Mumbai tabloid. Was rather surprised when the gatekeeper allowed me in with a bored expression - I guess after the Independence Cup, this one was a cinch.
However, the prepared bluff does come in handy when I have to get into the Dressing Room. My main reason for visiting the stadium is to meet my old Bombay Schools opening mate Ghulam Parkar, with whom I had lost touch since he migrated to Kenya. When I get there, Gullu is all padded up. We hug, and talk about old times. Memories of school cricket come welling up from the mists of nostalgia.
Memories swirling around Giles and Harris Shields - the most important events in the calender of a Mumbai schoolboy cricketer. Someone speaks about Albert and Khatrichacha, two gentlemen who were regular fixtures in the maidans during all school matches during the 60s and early 70s. Albert, who passed away a year ago, was the first one to file the score of a cricketer, a certain G Sunil, on whom Neville Cardus would have showered encomiums. Covering a St Xavier's High School fixture, the experienced Albert had mentioned the name in this manner, as he thought the sub editor on the sports desk would have found the surname 'Gavaskar' a bit too long.
Khatrichacha, unlike the professional Albert, used to give comics and an occasional apple to star performers. For the also-rans, his advice was, "You score 30, I get your name in the papers tomorrow!" The apple, with a photograph thrown thrown in, was the fruit of labour for the century makers and hat-trick takers. The meeting with Gullu and Girish Patki, another Bombay Schools team-mate and prolific Harris Shield scorer brings back memories of the time when the butterflies ran havoc in one's stomach when faced with the prospect of playing a Balmohan Vidyamandir or an Anjuman Islam, Shardashram in those days however being considered rabbits.
Shardashram, however, brings back recollections of
Ramakant Achrekar and the first two schools he coached, Dayanand
Balak and Hindi Vidya Bhavan. Two distinguished first class cricketers
who represented the former school are participating in today's match
- the Shastri brothers, Suresh and Padam. Suresh, the former left
arm spinner, had scored a century in a Harris Shield final and ensured
a win for his school by skirling the opposition. Padam, on the
other hand, scored tons of runs but got a raw deal from the Bombay
Schools selectors. Of course, the opening batsman who got the
nod instead of him is not complaining, he is simply overawed by
the occasion as he writes this piece.
Another Achrekar product
who represented Hindi Vidya Bhavan does not play cricket any more.
Uday Kotak, these days, is helping ageing film stars become household
brands.
I chat with the Shastri siblings as Vinod Kambli
bowls his version of off-spin to a 65 year old Madhav Apte, who
tucks the ball away to square leg. I meet up with Madhavrao before
he goes out to join Ghulam Parkar. He has probably worn coloured
clothes for a cricket match for the first time in his life, and looks
different wearing a Thumps Up Cap instead of his usual MCC 'orange
and cream'. Each time I see Madhavrao, I feel he is growing younger
and younger. No, this is not one of those cliches, for I
am convinced that he is an eternal school boy at heart. I can
bet my last paisa that last night he must have oiled his 2 pounds 1
ounce Stuart Surridge bat with the same enthusiasm as he had done
when he played for Wilson High School in the Harris Shield.
Skipper Tendulkar is, meanwhile, marshalling his
bowling resources - who seem fresher and more enthusiastic than
the ones he usually deals with these days. Never to be out of
the picture, Tendulkar bowls his whole quota of 8 overs and gets
whacked by an impressive Wasim Jaffer. Kambli and Tendulkar of
the 80s editions of the Harris Shield were like the Gavaskar and
Milind Rege of the 60s edition. I remember watching the tall,
gaunt figure of Rev. Joachim Fritz, the coach of the last two
mentioned gentlemen, standing tall outside the St. Xaviers tent
watching his wards with great interest. "These two are the
only good lads," he used to boom to the team. "The
rest of you are two-piece wash out fellows."
One is quite surprised that Ashok Vinoo Mankad isn't
around, and neither is Ekki Solkar, of Fellowship and
Maratha High Schools respectively. Of course, there is a Kailash
Gattani, ex-Bharda High School fame, reminding me of his latest selections
for the Star CC tour of England this season. Previous selections
included Tendulkar, Kambli, Ganguly, Dravid and such. And Bharda reminds
me of Kiran Ashar and Hemant (H K) Shah, who with Gattani put their
alma mater in the forefront as Vijay Merchant had
done in the pre-Independence era. It is sad that Bharda, the school
that produced the Indian Bradman, is not a force to reckon with
any more. Neither is Maratha, the school that gave Mumbai Subhash
Ambiye, Dilip Kalyankar and Umesh Kulkarni.
The lights have come on and the stadium is engulfed
in a chromium glow. By now, I am overcome by memories of the past
and the game, though played seriously, does not interest me any
more. Memories of Sandeep Patil v/s Dilip Vengsarkar - sorry, Balmohan
v/s King George - keep flooding my mind. The evening's
performers raise their bats in acknowledgement of a goodly crowd,
which appreciates their accomplishment.
I, for one, am convinced
that the stars would have preferred to receive an apple and a comic book from
Khatrichacha at the Azad Maidan.
Who was Lord Harris?
Harris Shield takes its name from Lord Harris, who took over as governor of Bombay in 1890.
The history of the time records him as typical of the English rulers of the time - contemptuous of India's aspirations, none too well disposed towards the "natives", and inclined to take rather too seriously the "white man's burden" concept with which the English justified their Empire.
However, that is for the historians to argue about. What concerns us here is cricket - and there is no gainsaying the contribution Harris made towards the development of the game in Bombay. Having by chance watched the Parsees playing, and being much impressed by the abilities on display, it was Harris who personally invited Lord Hawke and his MCC team to tour India and play a series of two matches against the Parsees, one in Bombay and the other in Pune.
The first of these games was played in 1892, under the label of the Presidency Match. Soon after, Harris mooted the idea of a combined European side to represent the Presidency of Bombay and challenge the Parsees. The Presidency Matches, which were inaugurated in 1892, became an annual fixture and, of the 26 games that were played between 1892 and 1906, the Parsees won 11, the Europeans won 10 and five were drawn.
A small item of trivia. The very first game, between Hawke's team and the Parsees, was rain-hit. And interestingly, the local fire brigade was called in, with its hoses and horse-drawn carriages, to dry the ground and make play possible. In the event, the match ended in a draw - but it is still curious to note that such techniques, now getting attention thanks to global television, were in use as far back as the late 19th century.
The Presidency Match evolved in time, attracting the Hindus first, and other communities later, and in time became one of the great tournaments in India.
More to the immediate point here, it was Harris who first pushed through the concept of an inter-schools tournament, in a bid to encourage the "Indian youth to play cricket" which he regarded as the healthiest of pastimes - the genesis of the tournament, and the shield, named after that cricketing visionary of old.
Match highlights
15,000 people thronged the Wankhede Stadium and feasted on a run-riot.
Tells the story, really, as the MSS President's XI took on the MSSA-Centenary Harris Sheild XI in a day-night fixture in which the latter side, led by Sachin Tendulkar, coasted to a seven wicket win.
Despite the presence of legends of the past like Madhav Apte, Kailash Gattani, Deepak Jadhav and such, there was no mistaking the real heroes of the predominantly young crowd - Sachin and team-mate Vinod Kambli, the two latest names in a glittering array of cricketers who rose to prominence through the ranks of Harris Shield cricket.
MSSA President's XI skipper Madhav Apte, making light of his 65-plus years, moved around the feet with enviable agility while Kailash Gattani, a former Rajasthan Ranji Trophy star, proved that age might have dulled his speed but not his control in the opening overs. Batting first, Apte's team made 220 thanks to a swashbuckling 63 from Bombay's rising young opener Wasim Jaffer, while Tendulkar and Kambli delighted their fans with a couple of wickets apiece. For the batting side, Adil Chagla (25), Amit Pagnis (24) and Chandrakant Pandit (20) were the other leading run-getters.
When Tendulkar's team came out to bat, it was obvious that they were in a hurry - the captain leading the way with a hurricane 47 inclusive of three sixes and two fours. Kambli then took centre-stage and, with Indian Test discard Praveen Amre holding the fort at the other end for a well compiled 32 not out, went quietly berserk. Kambli lashed both spinners and medium pacers around to the tune of seven sixes and an equal number of fours, hammering 100 in record time and giving his side an easy win.
In the final analysis, though, the runs - and results - didn't matter. It was an occasion for grown-ups - some stars, some less stellar, some almost unknown outside the confines of Bombay's club cricket circles - to shed the weight of years and to revert, for one glorious evening in time, to the carefree ways of their schooldays.
Photographs: Jewella Miranda
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