All that Fan-Fare
Riju is now old enough to be a fan. A cricket fan. It started, though, with being a Shah Rukh fan. Last year IPL. Shah Rukh in town, doling out sound bites on his team, the Kolkata Knight Riders. Riju had just turned eight then. He was not really interested in cricket. Computer games like Need for Speed were more up his street. Like most children these days, sport, to him, meant a period in school. He had a football at home: deflated and neglected. His father cajoled him to watch soccer ties with him: to no avail. Formula 1 drew more attention.
So this was the situation when Shah Rukh came to town. Riju knew all about 'SRK', as he called the star. His movies are fun and had great songs. And boy, could he dance! SRK's team was a natural choice for Riju. The 8-year-old began watching cricket. Learned the names of the players, learned names of strokes, a few fielding positions and bowling actions. Listened to adult conversation and tried to copy. That was last year.
Then, he wanted a bat, balls, wickets. A playing companion. The last one was the toughest. But even that got sorted out eventually, sporadically. He began to shadow practise. He followed even normal cricket matches and the careers of his team players. Some players were gradually elevated to favourites' spot. He got himself a computer game on cricket and cheered when he learned the trick to hit a sixer.
And now, this year's IPL. Riju saved up to buy the Knight Riders jersey. From Reebok, no less. I winced on seeing the price tag, but then I was never a fan. Not like this. I cheered for India too, especially in Prudential Cup. I shed tears when Sachin got out, but secretly. I prayed for Ivan Lendl to win the Wimbledon and Graf the French Open. I lusted after Gary Linekar and, of course, Klinsmann and Maradona. But I never got myself jerseys: merchandising had not yet become so widespread. And I never become so caught up with team's fortune that I would want to dump that same jersey after my team lost consecutive matches.
Watching a KKR match with Riju has become fraught with danger. As the team miserably lurches from one loss to the next, the 9-year-old howls, sobs, whimpers, throws tantrums and anything around him. No amount of explaining that it's only a game does the trick. It's then that I feel the resentment welling up inside me. Resentment against the team management, coach, owner and the players. All of them. If only they could see how their mismanagement and ego tussles cause so much pain and misery to a single fan — a child who, innocent of the ways of the world, had reposed all his faith in his hero's team. If only they could see how they fail him and countless others like him who dreamt of a trophy. If only they realised how they are making cynics of nine-year-olds.
The IPL introduced my son to the charms of cricket. Would the same IPL make him turn away from the sport? Would the fan'fare' die or would it mature into love? Watch this space to know.
