Elaborate Fictions: Writing an imaginary Test's report

One way to spell fandom is o-b-s-e-s-s-i-o-n; cricket fans might need that done in uppercase. It takes many forms, and leads to too many episodes that may only be recounted, later, in a tone of shy embarrassment, in the right company. So, here I am, armed with a confession: I have attempted to write match reports of imaginary Test matches. This is the first such story, of my bid to write a full description of a never-played West Indies-Australia Test staged somewhere in Australia (I do not remember where I staged this encounter; in my mind was specific enough for me, I suppose).

Why did I attempt to write a lengthy report about a sporting event that never took place? Well, like any serious cricket fan, I was susceptible to relentless daydreaming, constantly conjuring up visions of cricketing heroes performing incredible feats on a variety of stages. I made up stories about glorious rescues, backs-to-the-wall salvage operations, and courage in the face of adversity; the stuff of racy, pulpish adventures, instantaneously transmuted into the narrative forms of Test cricket by the powers of a young boy's imagination. And I liked to write.

So the pieces were in place. I would make my fantasies of cricketing heroes concrete by writing fiction about them. I would imagine a Test match, the best ever, and write a report about it. I had the details down; I divided my report into sessions and painstakingly began describing the action. I had as a model, World Cricket Digest's match reports for the 1978-79 Ashes; these described the action at a granularity that did justice to the gradual unfolding of a Test's action, without getting bogged down in ball-by-ball descriptions.

I'm sad to say I did not complete this project; I only managed to write a day or so of the action. If I remember correctly, the West Indies were still batting at the close of the first day's play (though the openers had been dismissed before lunch). I found the construction of the day's action intriguing, and enjoyed the power of being able to send the story of a day's play in any direction I desired.

But what was I, an Indian, doing, writing about the West Indies and Australia in my fantasy game? The answer to that question would take a whole book (one I intend to write some day). But briefly: my imagination failed when it came to India. It was easier for me to make up stories about players from other countries; India and its cricketers, for a variety of reasons, were only able to play parts in my cricketing fictions, much, much later.

Writing that 'report' taught me a great deal; I got a chance to try out my hand at cricket writing; I was able to inquire into whether all I was doing when writing on cricket was mimicry or whether some originality glimmered in the murk. It let me experience the power of constructing fiction, of building characters. I was thrilled by the power of possessing, in my pen, the ability to deliver all sorts of cricketing goods: a century before lunch, a hat-trick in the closing session, an incredible catch by an injured fieldsman. Everything a fan could want in his head was now made tangible by the act of writing it down.

Even fandom has its limits; I was young and easily distracted; I gave up my attempt at writing my "Test report" soon enough and returned to watching television, listening to radio commentary, and spending my hard-earned allowances on cricket magazines and books. But that experience had been a thrilling one, and it would set me up for a repeat attempt, one with a twist, and one that worked.

On that, more in Part Deux.