Cricket

Try to imagine three white Canadians and one Japanese-American, each with a massive Bangladesh flag in hand, stepping into Dhaka’s national cricket stadium for an international match against New Zealand. Now let’s take it one step further: add 30, 000 rowdy locals – and the fact that one of these Canadians is a woman. The result? Spontaneous cheering, a rousing good time, and one great Friday cricket match.

The energetic and unprovoked applause that erupted as soon as our faces came into view would set the tone for the five hours that would follow. Bangladeshis are a very proud people and will easily put aside the poor performance of their Tigers on the field if there’s a chance to celebrate their country with a group of young foreigners. While we walked in an hour late to a section in which the dull gray of the concrete benches was as visible as a piece of dry land during monsoon season, it didn’t take long before we were offered seats that appeared out of nowhere in the front row. Not only that, but our newfound friends and fellow fans ensured that our field of vision wouldn’t be blocked for the entirety of the match.

Bangladesh was up to bat first. As soon as the Tigers hit their first 4 pointer, we were up on our feet, waving our flags as if they were or own – and rightly so. The Tigers aren’t the strongest team in the Eastern Hemisphere; in fact, they were even beaten by Canada. This gave us even greater impetus to get the crowd riled up with our curiously patriotic flag-waving and chants of ‘Bang-la-desh!– Bang-la-desh!’ when the much stronger (and taller) Kiwis would misplay a ball or bowl for a hit that would give the underdog Tigers even a couple more runs. And besides, it’s the middle of Ramadan; give the guys a break.

Our celebrity status inside the stadium was confirmed by the numerous times we would become the focus of the television cameras. In any hockey arena or baseball stadium in North America, the fans react when they have the opportunity to wave hello to Mom on TV; the same goes for Bangladesh. Every time the cameras would be trained on our general direction, our entire section would begin waving madly directly to our right. Since the field was directly in front of us, it had to be the TV cameras; we were probably more exciting than what was happening on the field given Bangladesh’s eventual tally of a measly 146 runs.

Adding to our celebrity appeal was of course Clara, our ‘token woman’. The two of us sat together for the first half of the match, while Marc and K, the Japanese-American who no longer risks identifying himself as American, sat a few meters away. We hadn’t been there five minutes when we were asked whether we were married, or if we were simply “bosom buddies” (we’re still unsure what that means). She reverted to her usual strategy of referring to K as her husband, though this elicited a number of confused looks questioning why she was, if married, sitting with another man. Nevertheless, her presence was, predictably, more of an asset than a liability. She received the bulk of the attention, handshakes and autograph requests throughout the match, despite the fact that her flag was less than half the size of each of ours.

Once iftar, the first meal after the fast, had finally been served by the handful of cooks stationed throughout the stadium’s general seating area, the crowd was once again in an energetic mood. The home team had been bowled out in the maximum 10 wickets with only 146 runs, and given the strength of the New Zealand squad, our prospects were looking grim – but we pushed on. Unfortunately, the crowd may have become a little too energetic, and the cool evening air and bright lights illuminating the circular stadium only added to the somewhat frenzied atmosphere. Two or three more cheers on our part – “Tin! Dui! Ek! <> - brought even more excited onlookers into the section in which we had planted ourselves for the afternoon. Before long we were four kids in a Bangladeshi mosh pit, unable to shake all the hands that were thrust out enthusiastically along with the ubiquitous “Your country?”

As Marc said that night, even a well-intentioned mob can go astray. Heeding his advice, we decided to make our way out of the stadium. Bangladesh had not yet taken a single wicket from New Zealand, while the Kiwis continued to rack up more points. With the prospects of a Bangladesh win appearing as unlikely as a Bush victory before the election, we managed to edge our way out the stadium - but not without a few final fist thrusts into the air to get the crowd roaring one more time.

It turns out that Bangladesh would go on to capture a near record-breaking seven wickets before their point total was finally exceeded by Kiwi batsman. While it would have been nice to celebrate each of the seven miniature victories along with our 30, 000 new friends, we all agreed it was best to get out when we did. What we know for sure, however, is that we’ll be at the next international match in greater numbers, with larger flags, and with even louder voices to cheer on our adopted Tigers to another proud loss.