Hey there!
First love—sounds dreamy, doesn’t it? The kind of thing where violins play in the background, hearts flutter, and you’re already imagining some epic love story or secret crushes. Well, hate to burst your bubble, but my first love isn’t a “who” but a “what.” And trust me, it’s anything but ordinary. If you’ve already caught a glimpse of the picture below, you probably know where this is heading. Yes, my first and forever love is cricket. For most Indians, it’s not just a sport—it’s an emotion, a way of life. So, let me take you through my journey with this incredible game that stole my heart long before I even understood what love truly meant!
It was 2010, and I was just a 6-year-old kid. Up until then, I had spent my early years in my hometown, blissfully unaware of the bustling chaos of the big city. But life took a turn when my dad landed a job in Chennai, and for the first time, I stepped foot in this city of endless buzz and opportunities. We moved, and I got admitted to a decent school nearby.
Now, let’s get to the cricket part—because, honestly, that’s where the magic begins. Being new to the neighborhood, I spent my days observing the unfamiliar surroundings. One day, I noticed a group of older boys doing something fascinating in the narrow street. Armed with a wooden stick with a handle, they were hitting a ball back and forth. I was hooked from the very first glance.
On a holiday, as I stood there watching, one of the boys turned to me and asked, “Wanna join?” Without a second thought, I jumped in, and that’s how I met the chaotic world of street cricket. Forget the actual cricket rules you see on TV—this was a whole different league. The rules? Pure chaos.
- One-pitch catch? Out.
- Miss three balls in a row? Out.
- Hit the ball into someone’s house? Out (and probably banned from the street for a week).
- Stumps? Just dry sticks we scavenged from nearby bushes.
- LBW? Never heard of her.
- Byes? Luxury we couldn’t afford.
Oh, and the best part? When someone hit the ball into one of those roadside ditches filled with muddy water, guess who had to retrieve it? Yep, the batter—because actions have consequences, my friend.
India, right? Even today, those ditches still exist, carrying more history than the textbooks we studied.
Then, cricket became my way of meeting new people and making friends. But it wasn’t just any year—it was 2011, the year India won the Cricket World Cup. I remember the streets erupting with celebrations: people shouting, bursting crackers, and dancing like they’d hit the jackpot. I didn’t fully understand what “India won the World Cup” meant at the time, but the energy was infectious. My uncles couldn’t stop talking about it, and amidst their endless discussions, two names kept coming up: Sachin and Dhoni. I had no clue who they were, but their names stuck with me like glue.
And that, my friends, is how my first love began—not with violins or roses, but with wooden sticks, muddy ditches, and the sound of cheers echoing through the streets.
Last month(April,2011), everyone was celebrating India’s World Cup win, and this month, the streets lit up again with people cheering for CSK winning the IPL. All I kept hearing was “Dhoni this, Dhoni that, Dhoni Dhoni!" for the past two months. To be honest, I was confused. Should I support India, or this yellow team everyone seemed obsessed with? It took me years to figure out the difference between Team India and IPL and why this Dhoni guy was such a big deal.
Now let’s fast-forward to 2013, during my summer holidays at my uncle’s house. By then, I had started watching IPL more seriously. That’s when I first heard the name Virender Sehwag—this older guy playing for the Delhi team and smashing balls to the boundary like he was playing in fast forward. My uncle told me Sehwag was the best player in the country, even better than Dhoni (bold statement, I know). I didn’t understand stats or player rankings, but I decided then and there that Delhi would be my team, just because of Sehwag.
Until... the next IPL season arrived. Sehwag wasn’t playing for Delhi anymore; he’d moved to Punjab (a red jersey—seriously?). I was disappointed because I’d liked Delhi so much. My teacher used to say it’s the capital of India, so I thought it was special. But life has its way of making you change sides, and soon enough, I joined the Dhoni bandwagon. By the summer of 2014, I was a die-hard Dhoni fan—and I’ve stayed one ever since.
Okay, okay—I’m rambling again. So yeah, that’s my story about how I fell in love with cricket, Dhoni, IPL, Team India, and everything in between. It’s been a rollercoaster, but man, what a ride it’s been!
Oh yeah, then came the teenage years—the golden era of my life! I became that guy in the class who always rallied the gang to play cricket every Saturday. We started off on the streets, then moved to public parks. But here’s the catch—it was a public park, so we got caught by the officials more times than I can count. And let me tell you, the best part wasn’t just playing—it was running from them like we were in some action movie!
Eventually, we leveled up to a small ground, where things got serious—bet matches with our seniors. (Shh, don’t tell my mom about that part!) And guess what? We won almost every single time. Even better, we never lost a match to our juniors. Talk about bragging rights!
Whenever there was a holiday, we’d be out there by 6 a.m. sharp, ready to take on the day. I was the unofficial “cricket manager” in class, running errands and spreading the word about our next match. Looking back now, it feels like a golden chapter of my life—pure joy, no worries, just cricket and a whole lot of fun.
Then came 2020, and with it, the pandemic that shut the whole world inside their homes. But hey, did that stop me from playing cricket? Absolutely not! From childhood, I’d always played cricket indoors, with the wall as my trusty bowler and myself as Team India’s legendary cricketer. Let me tell you, I’ve won countless imaginary World Cups in my living room. And yes, if winning meant breaking a few things at home and getting scolded by Mom—well, that’s just the price of greatness, isn’t it?
Once the lockdown lifted, but schools remained closed, the real action began. We leveled up, playing on bigger grounds where the entire area gathered. My daily routine? Wake up, eat, play cricket, take a quick bath, and sleep—repeat. Some days, we even played twice because, honestly, we couldn’t get enough of it!
The highlight? We actually organized a cricket tournament in that same public park. Can you believe it? Twelve teams participated! Imagine 11th graders pulling off a full-blown tournament, and everyone in the neighborhood buzzing with excitement. Ha-ha, those were some epic times. Nothing but cricket, chaos, and pure joy!
Before I wrap up my cricket love story, let me share a bittersweet memory that still stings a little. Back in 7th grade, I was in my school’s football team—not by choice, but because football coaching was free, while cricket coaching cost ₹700, along with the need for a kit bag we couldn’t afford. Seeing my relentless passion for cricket, my father made a deal with me: if I topped the half-yearly exams, they’d consider enrolling me. And well, I did it.
My parents, despite their struggles, made it happen. I joined cricket coaching, learned to bowl without chucking, and got better at batting with a cork ball. Things were going great until my coach told my father I’d need a proper cricket kit. My dad, determined to support me, borrowed ₹3000—a significant amount for our family.
Wanting to ease their burden, I suggested buying a used kit for ₹2000 through the coach. My parents trusted him and gave the money. But soon after, the school shut down the cricket coaching program, and I never got that kit or the money back. For us, that ₹2000 was huge, and even today, it reminds me of the sacrifices my parents made for my dreams. They’ve always put me first, and for that, I’m endlessly grateful.
So now, I don’t play as much cricket as I used to. Life moved on, and I moved out of that area for college. Sure, I occasionally play on cricket turfs, but it doesn’t come close to the raw joy of those days—playing barefoot on mud-filled grounds, battling it out in narrow streets, and forgetting hunger just for the love of the game.
Cricket wasn’t just a game for me; it was where I found my happiest moments, built friendships, and learned resilience. It’s my first love, my forever love, and a chapter of my life I’ll always hold close to my heart.
Catch you in the next post!
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