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The truth is out there. It’s just a matter of deciding which Indian cricket accreditation official is the one who can cut through the red tape to help you get your pass to Sunday’s warm-up game between Australia and India.
Sachin (not his real name) presents a strong case. “Your pass will be available at 11am sharp on Friday in our Bangalore office for you to collect,” he said over the phone.
At noon a call to the abovementioned office at Bangalore’s M Chinnaswamy Stadium was met with much questioning, doubt, confusion and a circular pattern of conversation.
“It’s not there?”
“No,” said Harbhajan (also not his real name).
“But what’s your name again? No, not here. Ring back later in an hour,” he added.
“But if it’s not there now, how can it be there in an hour?”
“Just ring back.”
So a further phone call to Harbhajan reveals, again, that apparently my pass is not awaiting my collection after all.
But Sachin says firmly over the phone that my pass is sitting on a desk at M Chinnaswamy Stadium and I should jolly well get off my backside and go to collect it.
Entering the accreditation room, I find a dozen young men sprawled over two beds and a couple of desks, cradling laptop computers and surrounded by piles of accreditation passes.
But not mine.
Anil (not his real name) looks me in the eye and says: “It will be here at six o’clock. Come back then.”
And so I have two hours to kill. I stumble upon a swimming pool at the back of the stadium, but it’s for cricket players only.
I explained I play third grade for Flemington Colts in Melbourne, but no cigar.
But I’m with the Australian media, I added, although I had no World Cup accreditation to prove my case.
A discussion broke out between six staff as to whether I could have a swim in their lovely cool pool.
The manager was brought in, following a 10-minute delay.
He said no, I had to be a guest of the stadium’s adjoining hotel, or a World Cup cricketer.
Disappointed, I wandered off to watch India train during the afternoon sunshine.
A young lad from the pool’s staff tracked me down walking around the stadium, as I was looking at the Don Bradman painting in a dusty old room in the stands.
Next to the painting was another depicting Greg Matthews leaping with joy after engineering the famous tie in the Madras Test of 1986.
They have a healthy respect for Australian cricket here in Bangalore.
I had been allowed into the pool after all, following a change of heart.
But after a few laps, more drama.
The manager had returned to the pool and was pointing at me.
He motioned me over and pointed out I was only supposed to have a dip for five minutes as a courtesy, and that I should now get out.
I returned to the accreditation centre to find that at 5.50pm my pass still had not arrived.
Six o’clock, I was assured. And would you believe it, the treasured item was delivered on the stroke of six.
Anil smiled and apologised for several days of “mis-communications”.
Now if only I could find a tuk-tuk taxi driver who didn’t want to guide me towards a stop-over at his cousin’s jewellery store.
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