I have experienced a bit of what happens in the cricket association office as a non-journalist and after I joined the profession. My memories are vivid.

The first time was during the 1987 World Cup. I worked at The Marine Sports, the sports booksellers then. They were allotted a stall for every game at the Wankhede. For big events like the World Cup, two were granted—one at the Garware End and the other, near the players end.

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I was sent to collect our duty passes for the India v Zimbabwe game and then, the India v England semi-final. To say the office atmosphere in the build up to both these India games was chaotic, would be an understatement. The cabin for the then Honorary Joint Secretaries — former Test all-rounder Bapu Nadkarni and ex-Mumbai first-class player Vilas Godbole—was overly populated. The one that was more frequented was the adjoining room, where late journalist Sharad Kotnis, the association’s then Honorary Treasurer held sway. Approaching Kotnis for even a duty pass was undertaken with much trepidation.  

“Come back later,” he said. When one returned in the evening, he said “later.” I’m sure Kotnis did not extract any pleasure in giving me the runaround. The duty passes may have not been ready for distribution. But I could see a complete contrast in his temperament as compared to the calm and composed snuff-snorting veteran journalist visiting our bookstore in Dadar. Here he was hot-headed, hassled and high-strung.

Incidentally, Kotnis and I went on to enjoy a good professional relationship with him as sports editor of The Afternoon Despatch and Courier and me a reporter for this newspaper. Our common love was the Kanga league and we shared tent space when he mentored the Shivaji Park Youngsters Cricket Club while I managed Sunder Cricket Club. I’ve digressed. I had to make my way to the MCA office again before the India v England semi-final in 1987. Again, Kotnis had to be approached for duty passes. Again, there was a wait and a return journey to be made.

I was happy to make several trips. It was fascinating to see so many star cricketers coming in to get tickets and passes for the following day’s game—Sandeep Patil, Polly Umrigar and even Clive Lloyd, most eager to meet Nadkarni, who he had played against during his first Test tour to India in 1966-67.

It was Semi-final 1 day at Lahore, where Australia tackled Pakistan. Nadkarni happened to be in the Treasurer’s cabin while Imran Khan’s team were attempting to reach their stiff 268-run target. Saleem Yousuf and Abdul Qadir were putting on a little partnership and Nadkarni, then the chairman of India selectors, was confident of Saleem pulling it off for Pakistan. But the wicketkeeper was dismissed caught behind by Greg Dyer off Craig McDermott for 21. Pakistan ended up losing by 18 runs.

Spare a thought for the departed Nadkarni. He was buried in responsibility to ensure the smooth running of the Mumbai semi-final as an important office bearer of the association and also had his mind occupied about India’s chances, as chief selector.

The next World Cup game the Wankhede Stadium hosted was the India v Australia one in 1996. It was the 2011 final venue’s first ODI under floodlights. Australia’s senior pro Steve Waugh noted in World Cup Diary that a riot broke out in Mumbai over only 7,000 tickets being reserved for the general public. “The rest [of the tickets], apparently, have been made available to corporate clients and a very wealthy but very small part of the population. Scalpers are already demanding up to 10,000 rupees for 500-rupee tickets, and the match has become a bonanza for counterfeiters and scalpers alike.”

Amidst the ticket fever, a senior colleague came up to me with a request—to get him a couple of expensive tickets for the following day. I was about to attempt the near-impossible. In one of the MCA cabins I spotted Shripad Halbe, the dynamic administrator who was in the thick of the action for the big World Cup game. I asked him if I could buy two tickets for which the payment would be sent with an office boy the following morning. To my great surprise Halbe obliged me on both counts. When I bid him goodbye and promised to meet him the following week, he asked me why wouldn’t I be at the India-Australia game. I had no press pass. Halbe was aghast. He found it unfair that reporters covering local cricket were not going to be around for big games at Wankhede. Within minutes, I was issued a press pass.

Halbe met numerous important people in the lead up to the game. One of them was celebrated British writer Ian Wooldridge, who he had helped with a press pass.

Wooldridge mentioned Halbe in his Daily Mail piece: “I liked Shripad Halbe very much. I had to. I need my accreditation for Tuesday’s match and this, after taxi rides to three offices, proved fruitless. Each was occupied by about 20 men throwing their arms into the air and recommending the address from which I had just come.”

As for me, I cannot thank Halbe enough. I was able to soak in the electrifying atmosphere that February 27 evening produced in a historic game for a stadium close to my heart.

mid-day’s group sports editor Clayton Murzello is a purist with an open stance.
He tweets @ClaytonMurzello. Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.