Commandos catch the action as visitors practice

Walking up the stadium stairs, the first glimpse of the green turf is enough to suggest that a Test match is 48 hours away.

It’s quite early in the day at MA Chidambaram Stadium. The team arrival is still several hours away. The outer security ring of the local police is in the middle of a heavy breakfast fully aware that a long day lies ahead. As their guns rest next to them, they try to balance the hot steaming sambar on their paper plates. Most handymen are still sleeping on old newspapers while the early risers are busy with crosswords on the crumpled broadsheets.

Walking up the stadium stairs, the first glimpse of the green turf is enough to suggest that a Test match is 48 hours away. Men and women are busy on the brownish rectangle in the middle, even as RAF commandos stand attention circling the ground watching the empty seats.

And then it starts pouring, triggering more hectic activity around. The ground-staff rushes for the massive, deep blue plastic covers and even the commandos saunter to seats they have been staring at since morning. A net bowler, standing alongside, turns out to be a smart alec: “That’s what they call water-tight security,” he grins.

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You run into PR Vishwanathan, who is standing next to the freshly painted metal railing. He is the south zone representative of BCCI pitches committee and, as he watches the numerous security officers milling about, talks of the days when cricket was merely a sport. At 65, he slips easily into the ‘old hand’ category.

He is the perfect example of the knowledgeable Chennai cricket aficionado one usually finds in the D block behind the sightscreen. The middle-class cricket crazies who get the first glimpse of international cricket holding their fathers’ hands and, later in life, continue the tradition by initiating their children to the game. They applaud the late cut as much as the slog-sweep.

“Over the years, this stadium has changed a lot. First, there came the fence with prickly wires at the top. This was followed by long fishing nets to stop the crowd from throwing litter on field. And now this…” he trails off, pointing at the guards.

His best Chepauk memory happens to be watching GR Vishwanath scoring a fine 96. But ask him what he misses most and he speaks about the growing distance between the paying public and cricketers. Barricades, nets and now commandos staring at the faces have spoiled the fun of watching the game.

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PR recalls the days when the day wouldn’t be over without the sight of a fan jumping the fence the shaking hands with a performer on field. “A portly policeman chasing the fan running towards the pitch was a sight. There would be feints and dodges as if they were playing kabaddi. And most importantly there were lots of laughs,” he says.

It’s unlikely anyone will try jumping any fences to get to the players over the next week or so.