© 2002 Vidya Sigamany

June, it was the Football World Cup. Last month, it was the women's hockey final at the Manchester Commonwealth Games. Yesterday, it was cherubic 17-year-old Parthiv Patel's unruffled 19 not out in the second cricket test against England at Nottingham.

What these seemingly unconnected games did to me was give me pure pleasure in watching them.

I had never really liked, or for that matter understood, football or its culture. And anyway there was no Indian team to root for. But amazingly I was hooked to the sport after watching one of the initial matches live during the World Cup. I enjoyed the game - as much in following the hyped-up stars and their hairstyles, and the ads that came in the wake of the World Cup, as in discovering that planning and strategy was very much part of the actual action. I learnt to recognise the difference between the South American, the European and the African styles of attack and defence. I watched all the matches I could on the weekends. Before long, it was time for the Final. I followed it with the keenness that I accord only to one sport - cricket. At my workplace, when I finally gathered from the rather poorly designed FIFA web site the result of the final, I applauded the Brazilian team (which had my support all along) on its win with a few other surprised regular football fans!

India's performance in this year's Commonwealth Games had given us much reason to cheer, and thus it was on a lazy Sunday evening that I found myself drawn to the women's hockey final in which India was taking on England. Again, hockey was not a game I knew well, but I could see this particular match was tightly played with both teams looking evenly matched and I was rivetted till it ended. The controversial deciding goal notwithstanding, I was proud of our "girls" and their grit and perseverance, and their victory in the world arena. They fully deserve the adulation that has been heaped on them.

Then comes my favourite sport. But here again, test cricket is not something I follow avidly. Give me the fast-paced, thrilling, close finishes and instant gratification of the one-day game. Anyway, it was the final day of the second test and I caught the match when Ganguly was batting at 97. After his disappointing dismissal at 99, I still sat there to see if India could bat on without losing all wickets, but without much hope. That was when I saw Parthiv Patel for the first time. My god, he was just a kid. I felt… what was it - pity, sympathy, shame - that this kid was being burdened with the mighty task of playing for India at the international level. I knew he had got out for a duck in the first innings, and that added to my distress. What would he be thinking? Did he have the frame of mind to face the aggressive English fast bowlers, who had rattled even Sachin? How long would he last?

As it turned out, he lasted till the end, and the test ended in a draw. After a few initial hiccups, Parthiv settled down comfortably. Even after losing two partners at the other end, and in the face of the hostile bowling attack, he dug his feet in and defended his wicket with a quiet dignity that won everybody's admiration. When the match ended, most of the English cricketers shook his hand and seemed to have some words of encouragement for him. They applauded and let him lead the way out of the ground. Clichéd as it sounds, hats off to Parthiv!

And hurray for sportsmanship!