We all know what happened in 1999 in Chepauk in Chennai after the end of the India vs Pakistan Test, and the outpouring of love for the victorious Pakistan team. I didn't watch it live or even on TV. I was just ten years old then. I've only read stories about it, and it has always reminded me of why we love sport.
Heading into the Pakistan vs Afghanistan match in Chennai, I was just expecting a good game of bat and ball. I watched Pakistan play Australia in Bengaluru and there were, to my surprise, a few fans in green. It was good to see, though more of them would have been nice. Then, when a few police officers took away a Babar Azam poster in front of me, it ruined the somewhat positive experience of watching Pakistan play live in India. Positive because fans were cheering on Babar and Shaheen Shah Afridi and most of the players who played good cricket. The cricket was the story.
Then came Chennai, and twice the love for Pakistan on show. Maybe three times as much. Lots of Babar jerseys, and not just in my stand. In the stand above. In the stand to my left. To my right. Lots of faces painted the Pakistan colours. Some had an India flag on one cheek, Pakistan on the other. A huge cheer went up when Pakistan came on to bat.
And when Babar came on. When Babar hit his first ball for four. Cheers when Haris Rauf came to field at the boundary. Rauf waved back, thanked the crowd with his hand on his heart. Same cheer for Shaheen. Louder this time. During the end of the game, Babar fielded at the boundary. Even louder cheers. "Pakistan zindabad" slogans to spur the team on from a losing position.
There was freedom in the Chepauk air. That was it. People weren't afraid to show their love for Pakistan. It was cricket that they came to see. Nothing else mattered.
Pakistan's misfields were lamented. The runs they gave away cheaply were bemoaned. Those complaints didn't come with malicious intent. Like your mother giving you an earful for being careless, there was love in the criticism.
I went to the game with a cousin of one of my best friends. It was his first Pakistan game. He is in tenth grade, and so I told him about 1999.
True to the spirit of Chepauk, the Afghanistan team did a lap of honour after their win, their first against Pakistan in ODI cricket. Afghanistan were shown no less love, which was not unexpected.
After we left the stadium, we came across a fan wearing a Babar jersey who had the Pakistan flag painted on part of his face. He spoke about how Pakistan were missing Naseem Shah and how he enjoyed watching the game without any fear. We parted ways with a long hug after a TV channel picked him for an interview.
There were Afghanistan fans all around, celebrating the win. We congratulated the ones who came our way. They were just so happy. When we kept seeing more and more Afghan fans, the 15-year-old in my company wanted a picture with some of them. And we took one.
There is something about Chepauk. I was emotional when R Ashwin hit a Test century against England here in 2021. Not because I am particularly a fan of Ash. It just happened. I don't know how. Happy tears come when you least expect them. The whole place was fervent that day.
That magic happened again at this Afghanistan-Pakistan game.
Cricket is what Chennai came to watch. Isn't that what sport is all about?