He wasn’t watching the match

It was on March 13,2010,exactly a year before the new-look Wankhede hosted its first World Cup match,that Tambe knew the countdown clock had started to tick for what was to be the most stressful of his years as a groundsman. With the Wankhede stadium being rebuilt entirely for the purpose of the big Cup,most of the focus had been on the outside shell—the stands and framework. As a groundsman,though,Tambe—led by curator Sudhir Naik—and a dozen junior groundsmen under him,would watch worriedly as the debris and the big cranes marauded their hallowed space,leaving them with little to work on in the lead-up.

“The real work on the field started only in October. We were very,very worried,” he says,recalling what were exacting months for the groundsmen. Imagine a giant circular green jigsaw puzzle,and then the groundsmen given 30-yard strips daily to work on by the contractors. “The debris and dust and cement was so thick that we had to literally dig up a feet or two many times over,” remembers.

For the last 30 years,Tambe has walked into Wankhede on his working days,mechanically headed for the storage-room,and brought out the equipment for the daily maintenance. Watering the grass,rolling the pitch,trimming the grass fell into one routine—but that was literally only the tip of the work when prepping for the World Cup. “To be honest,we weren’t very confident early on,and many days of overtime and cursing and cajoling the contractors actually got the work done,” he says.

There’s a certain pride associated with putting together a cricket field and the wicket. “How the ground turns out is a matter of honour for a groundsman. As such,I am interested only in the first 10 overs to check if the wicket isn’t going all over the place and the last five to see if the outfield and wicket have stayed intact. Once the coin is tossed,we start to switch off,” he says.

There’s much competition amongst India’s various cricket grounds,and many a chuckles expressed should an irate Delhi track come under ICC-censure like it happened at the Feroze Shah Kotla grounds once. “But as a fellow groundsman,we understand how insulting and hurtful it is to be told that your wicket is not up to scratch,” he says. “Naam kharaab nai hona chaaiye apne centre ka,” he says,with a mixture of fear and anxiety.

The result of their toil is open to such public appraisal that Tambe says he’s never thought of bringing his family to the ground—his workplace. “On match days,there’s obviously pressure for tickets,but even otherwise,we’re so obsessed with how every inch looks that I’ll never be able to relax around the ground,” he states.

Their job also means there’s much proximity with cricketers,and there are very few domestic talents that Tambe would have no backgrounders on—having watched them all on quiet Ranji trophy days,meeting the challenge thrown at them by the pitch. A groundsman’s obsessive care-taking of the pitch also makes him seethe every time a cricketer saunters onto the playing area without permission. “Not that we can stop any big cricketer from walking over that territory. But I’m always anxious when anyone,except captain,coach and manager,goes close to the wicket before a match,” he says.

Match days for Tambe may begin at 6 a.m.,but it’s the day before the match when most back-room work gets done. “We have to do the usual rolling,mark the creases,even out the field,and then ensure that the underground pipes from which the stump-cameras pass are well-placed,” he says,adding that the toughest job for a maali is taking a call on how much to water a pitch. “It shouldn’t be too much or too less and that judgment comes only with many years,” he says,gesticulating wildly as he talks about the elements—the soil,the hint of moisture in the air,the invisible heat and the precise time when the humidity content will rise even.

Tambe’s father was a security guard at Wankhede. As a 19-year-old,Tambe donned the khaki uniform as a junior groundsman after not settling into any of the numerous odd-jobs he had taken up. “Interest in big-match days may have waned after seeing everything that is to be seen. But I still love being on the ground. It feels like my land—every blade of grass,” he says.

And it was this feeling of ownership that meant that the onset of 2011 added hours of stress to his work. “After the Eden Gardens was late in meeting its deadline,there was a campaign to spoil Wankhede’s chances too. The media came and inspected every inch looking for something to defame this field,” he says,recalling those days when after months of planting and replanting grass (since the chemicals and cement overturned every green grass blade to yellow),the scrutiny tended to be so harsh.

The last 10 yards were the toughest since the area close to the boundary line always bore the brunt of the cement and cranes. “We told the host association to not rush anything or be in a haste to hold a cricket match for that would have destroyed the ground. We gave them a guarantee that work would be done on time. We needed to be patient and keep faith,” he says,relaxing what has been a perpetually worried brow.