Future perfect for 19-year-old Dinesh Chandimal © Jamie Alter

Dinesh Chandimal has earned quite a reputation and is spoken of highly in discussions about the next generation of Sri Lankan players. A highly talented top-order batsman and wicketkeeper, Chandimal rose into prominence with a string of impressive performances on the local school cricket circuit. Since then he has hardly looked back, having a consistent run with Ananda College, being elevated to Sri Lanka's Under-19 vice-captaincy, and turning out for an SLC Development XI and Sri Lanka A - all before playing his first club match.

Coming from the small coastal town of Ambalangoda to Colombo was a necessary and seminal move forward in Chandimal’s career. Chandimal’s family, victims of the tsunami in 2004, could not sustain his sporting ambitions. He did not belong to a prosperous cricketing school. He had been rejected by Dharmasoka College’s Under-13 team due to an unorthodox bowling action. But he worked hard, kept his spirits high, churned out runs, and his fortunes took an upswing when he was drafted down from Dharmasoka in Ambalangoda to Ananda College for the 2006-07 season.

Suddenly he was in the city, at a prestigious Buddhist college with a rich history of churning out international cricketers: Arjuna Ranatunga; Siddath Wettimuny; Brendon Kuruppu; Marvan Atapattu; Thilan Samaraweera are just some of the names to have come out of Ananda. “It was a big move for me, coming from the outside,” says Chandimal, ”And I was determined to do well.”

He immediately left a mark, starting off with a double hundred in a limited-overs fixture, and then churning out runs in a two-day tournament. Chandimal’s heavy contribution with the bat carried Ananda’s fortunes all season. He lists the achievements bestowed upon him like a ticker tape reel: “I was awarded Schoolboy Cricketer, Best Batsman, Best Fielder, Best Captain … I really enjoyed myself at Ananda College.”

And then came the Under-19 World Cup in Malaysia, where he first came under the international radar. With matches being televised around the world, Chandimal felt that would be a big chance to showcase his ability, but instead he ran into a bad phase. “I didn’t score too many runs there, which was disappointing, but the chance to be at that level was exciting,” he says. “There was the match against Australia in which I didn’t get to do much with the bat, but I took seven dismissals while keeping wickets and that helped us win, and I was adjudged the Man of the Match. It was a very special day. I felt I had achieved something.”

But the biggest opportunity, says Chandimal, was the practice match against the touring New Zealanders in August. Having walked in during the third over, Chandimal soaked up the pressure for a 234-ball 109, adding 127 for the sixth wicket with Dammika Prasad to take the SLC Development XI into the lead.

“Playing with international players, especially some very good bowlers, was a good chance for me,” he says. “There was pressure on me but you need to have it to play well. That century was slow, something I am not naturally prone to doing, but such was the situation. I looked at that match as a stepping stone to bigger things. I had of course watched many of those New Zealanders play on television, then in the nets. It was a big match for me.”

That match was just his second first-class match, his debut coming in the first match against the New Zealanders a week earlier, and his first innings yielded a score of 64. He has joined the Nondescripts Cricket Club, another big step forward in his fledgling career. Chandimal’s heroes are Romesh Kaluwitharana and Kumar Sangakkara, with whom he had the chance to speak and ask questions about the trade they share in common – wicketkeeping. “Sangakkara told me I could come over to join NCC whenever I felt,” he says. “That felt good. He said just some and join us, nobody will ask any questions. He said I am a good talent and that I should make contacts here at NCC. I am looking forward to scoring runs even more now.”

I took out time yesterday to go to the SSC and watch cricket. Well that’s what I'm on tour for, right?

But this wasn’t an international. This was Ten Sports Thunder versus Sri Lankan journalists, and it was like something out of Marcus Berkmann’s Zimmer Men.

The teams have arranged to play on the proper SSC pitch. This isn’t a practice ground. It’s the real deal. There are first-class umpires in proper attire. Players from both sides, in various shapes and sizes, are practicing their batting, bowling and fielding. You can immediately tell who’s played to a certain level and who hasn’t.

As I enter the dressing room, the mood is positively upbeat. The room is strewn with cricket gear. There’s music playing from a docking speaker system. The Ten Sports team is yakking away in clusters, a mile a minute. Some are discussing tactics, other cursing the heat. Danny Morrison, sitting with Hamish, a cameraman, is having a laugh. Gavin is waiting for the arrival of a set of T-shirts. The Mobitel mascot, a rather sad looking excuse for a bunny, is being suited up. Ranil Abeynaike is talking to a few production crew members. Mike Haysman is nowhere to be seen. Tony Greig is scheduled to be here for the post-match formalities. Kumar Dharmasena was supposed to umpire but he's not here.

The Sri Lankan journalists across in the other room look decidedly confident. Chaminda and Manoj, from Cricinfo’s local office, are discussing the batting order. Chaminda says he’ll go at No. 5, with Manoj just ahead. Word on the street is that the journalists have drafted in a few young club players. Hemant, who just landed from Ten’s base in Dubai yesterday, isn’t worried: “They’ve got club players, we’ve got Test players.”

The T-shirts arrive. Immediately, players start dipping in to the pile. Not all of them get the right size. Some are a tight squeeze. Morrison and Hamish keep talking and laughing. Nothing fits Ian Bishop, not even XL, so he decides to stick to what he turned up in. While the others warm-up, stretch, have a knock, listen to music and Morrison’s attempts at singing alongside his favourite song, The Foo Fighters' The Best of You, Bishop sits by himself on the balcony. He’ll much rather be putting on the green.

The two captains return from the toss. “What’re we doing, skip?” yells Hamish, now out on the balcony while Morrison drops his pants and gets into gear. Gavin makes a bowling action with his right arm. “Oh, no” says Bishop, rolling his eyes.

The match, originally slated for 35 overs, has been reduced to 30. A couple players mutter that 20 should be more like it in this heat. The game begins. A mixture of English, Hindi and Reggae music resounds from the stands. The fielders pretty much stand where they feel. Abeynaike stands at slip. Morrison runs in from a few paces and delivers the ball. It’s short of a length outside off stump and cut away for runs. He keeps a pretty tidy line all over. A Sri Lankan kept on stand-by for the Ten Sports team, chatting on his cell phone, turns to Hemant sitting next to me and asks: “What’s the bowler’s name, please?” Classic.

The fielding is a mixed bag, as expected with a side of non-professionals. Sluggish fielders are cheered by their team-mates and colleagues in the stands. Hard-hit interceptions are applauded. The wicketkeeping is pretty good, bar one dropped catch.

Morrison gets a wicket and while his team-mates rush to congratulate him, he stands, arms on knees, looking out of breath. Bishop swings his arms, in a golf-shot motion, time and again. I ask him if he’s going to bowl first change and he shakes his head. “I’m just making up the numbers,” comes his reply. Then he gets down and does some push-ups. Morrison gets another wicket, and his stoop straightens. There’s a spruce in his steps now.

There’s something I read Steve Waugh say about Bishop that I’ve never forgotten. Asked once about the toughest bowlers he faced, Waugh mentioned Bishop. He said that Bishop was capable of bowling six different deliveries in an over, each one in creasing in pace, and if he’d played five deliveries in a row consistently, Bishop would come up with a corker on the sixth.

One firm shot goes down the ground between Morrison at long-on and Bishop at long-off. Four runs. “Cricket in slow motion,” says Mohandas Menon, the statistician. Manoj slashes his second ball, off Morrison, square on the off side for four. “There’s a shot!” says Hemant, clicking away on his camera. Morrison gets another wicket. He bowls very accurately – “tidier than when he played for New Zealand” someone quips. Hemant asks if he wants some water. “Got a Heineken?” is the reply.

The Mobitel bunny takes off his mask and sits down in the stands. It’s hot, can’t blame him. He doesn’t look too thrilled to be here. Methinks some cheerleaders would help. Bishop is coaxed into having a bowl and he gets a wicket almost immediately. His Ten Sports team-mates are all too thrilled with his effort. Bishop can hardly contain his excitement. I’m kidding about that one.

After his over, Bishop slowly walks back to his place at long-off, still looking like he’d rather be driving on the green, and goes back to practicing his golf swing.

I ask Manoj about facing Bishop. “Didn’t run in, machan, just took few steps but when the ball hit the ground it came very fast. Still got some pace. One ball I pressed forward and the ball came off the wicket, zzzzuup, and beat me.”

I hear a voice calling my name and turn around to see Ranjit Fernando. He’s pretty fit for 65 but says it’s been a while since he played. We talk cricket for a while, wicketkeeping in particular, and then walk over to the boundary rope where Morrison is coming off after his spell, looking rather flushed. “I’ve been fresher,” he says and joins us in the dressing room. Back on goes the docking system. I hear shouts outside the pavilion. Another wicket has gone down. Ten Sports aren’t doing too bad at all.

Revived by his mid-day siesta, Morrison goes on to play a key role with the bat as Ten Sports chase down 207 with three wickets in hand. Morrison, promoted as a pinch-hitting opener, clubs 46 in four overs, including four sixes off the opening bowlers. And as each ball is being delivered to him Morrison yells out “Giggedy Gig” (from The Family Guy) before slogging. The Mobitel bunny gathers some steam with a female counterpart. With Gavin providing the anchor’s role with an important unbeaten 60, and Bishop’s 30 steadying the side after they slipped to 130 for 6, Ten Sports complete a very satisfying win after struggling to win matches in Dambulla earlier, during their long stay in Sri Lanka.

Spare a thought for Hamish, though, who drops four catches and makes a silver duck too. Fernando and Trevor Chesterfield hand out the awards after the match, with Morrison fittingly named Man of the Match and Gavin named Best Batsman. Bishop considers making himself available for the West Indies F team that will be going to the Champions Trophy soon.

A rematch is promised next year. I can see Bishop still practicing his golf swing at long-off.

When their job begins, that’s normally the cue for people to change channels, start typing furiously, or go get a coffee and cigarette. Their work is not always applauded but really should be. Rain or shine, their work goes on.

I’m talking about the groundstaff who have been kept busy since 3.15 this afternoon at the R Premadasa Stadium in Colombo. A 20-minute downpour then forced them into action and they’ve been busy since. At 4.54 a three-minute passing shower lashed across the ground as the group of roughly 100 young men was starting to remove covers off the outfield.

This time I tried observing them as attentively as possible. A key part of their job is anticipation and for the most part on this short tour I’ve noticed the groundstaff at venues is very good at knowing when a shower is approaching. This group never for a second lost enthusiasm for what is a high-pressure and strenuous job. Running through rain in slippery conditions dragging heavy covers – 12 of them, estimated at 100 feet by 40 feet - is no easy task but these guys go at wholeheartedly.

They whoop, they shout, they curse, they laugh, they move at great speed lugging those massive tarps. Some fall, some choose to slide across the sheets and into puddles of water, some back-slap, some high-five as one of them trips. Teamwork is so crucial in this job. All the while they are hooted at by two groups of spectators that have assembled hours before the start of play. That’s just not on, and downright disrespectful.

These chaps need a good pat on the back for their efforts. They really do a brilliant job out there, at work against the elements. They get soaked and run the risk of getting ill. Their wages probably aren’t too good either. You rarely hear players or administrators thanking them. The drainage facilities in this part of the world aren’t that good so these chaps, often teenagers, have to be darn good at what they do. Their efforts often ensure minimal or no damage is caused to the ground so play can resume quickly or start on time.

So the next time rain interrupts play, before you switch to MTV or VH1 or put on the kettle, spare a thought for these chaps.

	Almost there! Jesse Ryder's homage to Richard Hadlee nears completion © AFP

Touring in foreign countries where security limits your mobility to hotel premises pushes the thresholds of boredom. Perhaps in homage to New Zealand stars of yesteryear, such as Richard Hadlee and Jeremy Coney, or perhaps because the enchantment of being cooped up in their hotel rooms with PSPs has worn off, Martin Guptill and Jesse Ryder have decided to grow moustaches.

Ryder’s has been slowly gaining growth over the last week or so but Guptill’s is a newer endeavour. The two players were seen showing off their best efforts at the first Twenty20 international.

It reminded me of one of the episodes in Family Guy, where Peter Griffin, the lead character, decides to grow a moustache. I won’t say more …

* * *

The ‘tache fad hasn’t caught on elsewhere in the team, but it does seem like a few others are on a mission to put baseball caps back on the fashion radar.

Waiting for a friend in the lobby of the hotel Cinnamon Grand, I cannot but help notice the various designs of baseball caps being modeled by the players. I chuckle, remembering a college friend once telling me that baseball caps should be banned as a fashion statement.

Each cap on view is a prominent American baseball or basketball team. Nothing to do with cricket, international, domestic or franchise.

Jacob Oram is wearing a blue and white Phillies cap. Shane Bond has on a green and white Boston Celtics cap. Kyle Mills and Daryl Tuffey walk past together in Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees caps. You won’t see that outside Fenway or Yankee Stadium, I’ll tell you. A funky designer white baseball cap sits awkwardly perched atop Martin Guptill’s crop of red hair. Apart from Guptill’s, each of the caps look like they’ve been properly broke in – a very crucial part of looking cool in a baseball cap, as a cousin told me when I was given my first Celtics cap as a child.

A member of New Zealand’s support staff looks out of place with a designer beret on his head. Spike Lee and Steven Spielberg, who pioneered a shift from berets to baseball caps in the 1980s, would have muttered about how passé he was.

Somehow I don’t think this cap fascination is going to catch on with the Sri Lankan cricketers, most of who, when they’re not playing or practicing, slick and gel their hair to perfection.

	Prasanna Jayawardene's white Ssang Yong Rexton © Cricinfo Ltd

When I was younger, I had this image of Aravinda de Silva – ‘Mad Max’ himself, the playboy of Sri Lankan cricket – harrying down one of Colombo’s wide roads in a flashy sports car. Reading and hearing about how fast cars were de Silva’s passion and how women swooned over him, I crafted a picture of a debonair lifestyle, of high-speed cruises down one of Colombo’s wide roads.

I haven’t seen that on either of my tours to Sri Lanka, and probably won’t, given the security and roadblocks. Last summer, while in a tuk-tuk, I was nearly run over by Kumar Sangakkara’s black 4x4 as he tried to dodge another tuk-tuk on his right, on the outskirts of Colombo.

But what is unmistakable is how popular sports cars and SUVs are here in Colombo, and how many Sri Lankan cricketers drive them. I spotted Mahela Jayawardene and his wife Christina in a big Jeep 4x4 and Sanath Jayasuriya in a Ford Explorer. Ajantha Mendis and Muttiah Muralitharan drive SUVs. Chamara Kapugedera got out of one at the SSC. Sachin Tendulkar’s Ferrari fixation is so yesterday. Big is best in Sri Lanka.

And it’s not just cricketers or politicians. I saw two monks get out of a huge Toyota pick-up truck. Monks! Just walking down Galle Road you see great hulking 4x4s and SUVs as frequently as tuk-tuks. Jeep Grand Cherokees, Toyota Fortuners and RAV-4s and Prados, Nissan X-trails, Land Rover Discovery 3s, you name it and Colombo has them.

What I also quickly noticed is how the number of foreign cars outnumbers what you see back in India by far. Ironically, Jeeps are more common in Sri Lanka than the Mahindra jeeps made next door in India. Jeeps are apparently the most sought-after model on the local market, with the Grand Cherokee being the hottest, with a gigantic 4.7 liter engine. I haven’t seen a lot of those tank-like Hummers, all the rage in India despite a massive cost of roughly Rs 70 lakhs when you slap on taxes and import duties, but Sri Lanka is a hotbed for engineering and importing such foreign cars to India. Harbhajan Singh recently got a Hummer from England and had it shipped to Colombo to have it changed from left-hand drive to right-hand drive.

Sri Lanka does not have a local industry to protect, so there is a large consumer market for foreign second-hand cars, the majority of which are Japanese makes. The vehicles are reconditioned in Sri Lanka and sold at used car dealerships and are also imported.

As per Sri Lankan law, there are two types of permits on vehicle imports. The first is a gift permit, under which Sri Lankans who work overseas under valid visas can gift a vehicle to blood relatives and family members. The second is a blue permit, which allows you to bring the vehicle you own overseas. Interestingly, the import tax system in Sri Lanka actually encourages expatriates returning home to import used vehicles as a way to transfer assets under a blue permit.

Sadly, I don’t fall under any of those permits and won’t be affording one of those SUVs anytime soon. For me, it’s the tuk-tuks and plenty of haggling and headshaking. “Hotel Intercontinental, how much?”

	Tillakaratne Dilshan allowed the crowd to vent any pent-up frustrations © Getty Images

There had been a degree of trepidation, for those of us who were not here for the last Twenty20 at the R Premadasa Stadium, as to how security would be handled for tonight’s game. I had read in the web versions of the Island and Daily Mirror, and later been told first hand by local reporters, about just over three weeks ago, policemen baton-charged spectators outside the gates of the venue.

On that unfortunate evening, the main gates had been closed as security guards began individual checks on ticket-holding spectators after forcing them into a small side entrance. As men, women and children were jostled and pinned against steel blockades, anxiety swelled and in a panic police offers manning the gates resorted to assault some spectators.

The issue did not go down well in the local papers. The Daily Mirror accused the security contingent of not only failing to do their job but “allowed arrangements to descend into what has been described as a total shambles”.

On Monday, the day after the Test series finished, Sri Lanka Cricket’s security unit held a press conference at the board headquarters spelling out the security arrangements. The aim was to ensure spectator safety and comfort for the two Twenty20s and the tri-series to be held at the Premadasa. The security and traffic plans were outlined and senior bigwigs from Colombo’s police force vowed not to allow such an incident to happen, while SLC apologised to the crowd after three weeks.

We journalists were advised to follow a specific procedure to reach the Premadasa. I personally had no difficulty reaching the venue, but had decided to arrive well in advance. The difficulty began once I was in sight of my entry gate.

With vehicles not allowed down the road from where I has used to entering last year, I got down at Khettarama Road and decided to walk the few hundred odd meters on foot. I was stopped five times before covering 50 meters with a cordon of police officers requesting to see my media pass. After the sixth check I was directed to cross the road and go show my pass again. Then three spectators and myself were ushered single-file through a metal scaffolding-like check post at the end of which each of us was thoroughly frisked – and I mean thoroughly. I had to open my bag and display all the contents. The laptop was pretty self explanatory but the cordless mouse, audio recorder and ipod needed explaining.

After about 50 meters I was again asked to show my pass. Then I reached the gate through which media and certain ticket holders were allowed. Another walk through scaffolding followed, after which I again had to open my bag. Once past the gate, I had one final hurdle to cross: the security guard at the gate in front of the media enclosure. He didn’t need much convincing that I was part of the media, but refused to let me turn left even when I assured him the press box was to my left. Luckily, a member of Sri Lanka Cricket’s media relations saw me and waved me upstairs.

Police and security personnel, almost as a rule, are seldom polite in this part of the world. Those ordered to man the check posts and every person not in uniform were gruff and unfriendly.

Cricket watching is supposed to be a leisurely experience, but by submitting ticket-holding spectators to near a dozen checks just to reach the stadium is frustrating. It will be all the more uncomfortable when India play here next week and the crowd turnout is way more. It’s also tough to see how World Cup matches will be held here in 2011 with the current situation. When planning for the World Cup, putting in place security measures that don’t leave you feeling violated can be a starting point.

Given the fiasco that happened last time, it’s not easy to see why there isn’t a packed house here this evening. They’d probably much prefer watching it on television than being charged by baton-wielding police and navy officers.

But once they’re inside the ground, the fans who have gathered put up a good show. They make for a fun and colourful audience, in a literal sense. Standing outside the media box and hearing the fans go wild is good fun. Standing, swaying, shouting, blowing para pan trumpets, waving Sri Lankan flags with the trademark lion embossed in the middle and inflatable thingamajigs, dancing the bayla, this crowd has enthused an energy that the New Zealanders could only have envied. And this is in the hour leading up to the toss.

Unlike back in India, the fans don’t have it bad once they’re inside the stadium - water bottles are allowed, food stalls are a brief walk away and there are toilets.

* * *

Move over, Sanath, there’s a new rock star in Sri Lanka. Tillakaratne Dilshan is doing what he does best, batting with characteristic belligerence as he thrashes New Zealand’s new-ball pair all over the ground in Sri Lanka’s reply to target of 142. Shane Bond’s first over for New Zealand in nearly two years goes for 16, Dilshan taking four successive boundaries. The ground is nowhere near its 30,000 capacity but the noise is electric. Then comes the Dilscoop off Kyle Mills and it's delirium in the stands.

Chris, the only touring New Zealand journalist, shakes his head – he wears a look that suggests that for him this was almost as inevitable as the sun setting in the west.

Jayasuriya departs for another poor score but the crowd is hardly bothered. They’re here to see Dilshan stick it to New Zealand. Not happy with just boundaries, he runs like a hare on heroin, pinching manic singles from under the New Zealanders’ noses. Dilli, as he’s called lovingly by the spectators, is going ballistic and the fans are going mad. “Sri Lanka! Sri Lanka! Sixer! Sixer!”

A superb throw from Jesse Ryder at backward point runs out Mahela Jayawardene. There are a few oohs as the big screen confirms the direct hit got Jayawardene short. Then Dilshan hits consecutive fours off Ian Butler, one through point and the other paddled over short fine leg. The crowd goes berserk.

	Shane Bond is just one solid performance away from making the world smile with him © AFP

When visible to the media and fans, Shane Bond has worn the same expression on his face ever since he landed in Colombo from Chennai. It’s been virtually blank, not a trace of excitement or anticipation or nervousness of an international comeback. What thoughts have rattled around his head since he quit the ICL, was handed a New Zealand Cricket contract, was named back in the A and one-day teams, what he felt when he picked up a niggle in India after one over, what the emotions were when he joined up with New Zealand here in Sri Lanka, only Bond knows. And he's hardly shown it.

But tonight I thought I saw him smile.

Bond’s final net session the night before his first international appearance since November 2007 gave little indication to what may be going on inside his head. Bond didn’t speak much as New Zealand began their training under lights at the Premadasa, warming up by himself next to the green railing that runs around the ground. He then joined Daniel Vettori, Jeetan Patel and Daryl Tuffey for leg stretches and conditioning exercises, which included hopping on one leg and working with a fitness ball. A few words were spoken with Vettori and Tuffey, that’s it. The drill went on for about 15 minutes. No real emotion on Bond’s face.

After a couple swigs of water, Bond joined a few others for fielding and catching practice. After a good 25 minutes of hard work, in which he judged and took some skiers, once even tumbling to the ground, Bond again had some water and then slowly made his way to the nets.

He stood with Tuffey and Jacob Oram watching the McCullum brothers, Jesse Ryder and Kyle Mills bat. Then the three men were summoned to the last net on the left, where Ross Taylor was batting. The local net bowlers stepped back as Bond marked out his run-up. “Shane Bond, Shane Bond!” cried a few young boys near the boundary rope. There was no reaction.

Bond took a ball and ran in after Tuffey. The first delivery was a full toss which Taylor worked to the on side. No reaction from Bond. He picked up the ball and slowly walked back to his mark. The next delivery was back of a length and Taylor hammered it off the back foot. Again Bond picked up the ball, shaking his head slightly. The next ball was fuller and Taylor blasted a full-blooded ball past the stump marker. This time Bond nodded, just a slight bobble of the head.

The fourth ball was short and Taylor thrashed a cut. The fifth was on its target, pitching on a good length. Taylor inched forward on the press and then had to go back to adjust and defend, the ball just scooting off the side of the bat. “Good ball, Bondy” said Oram.

As he turned back towards Oram, Bond half smiled. It wasn't a curve to set everything right, but it was a noticeable smile. He'd found a rhythm during his most significant practice session in two years.

Daniel Vettori, when questioned about the importance of Bond’s return, said he just didn’t want undue pressure put on his strike bowler. “He’s been a while out of international cricket and he’ll want to find his way back in and not have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. We’ll let him ease back into it and let him get the results everyone has been accustomed to. On his days he’s one of the best bowlers in the world.”

Kumar Sangakkara was not surprised to see Bond back. “It’s always nice to have such a great player back. All sides look for these kinds of match-winners and Bond is going to be one of them for New Zealand.”

No return to international cricket has been so anticipated since Shane Warne made a comeback after a drugs ban in 2003. After his return, Warne enjoyed three wonderful years in his final chapter. Nobody is sure how to judge Bond’s progress since being recalled, but the hope is that he and fans around the world will be able to smile. If you're going to be a near a television on game day, do try and catch Bond bowling. If he gets a wicket, check out the look on his face.

	The pub quiz scoreboard © Gavin Scovell

He’s standing in the centre of a pub, holding aloft a trophy in front of a crowd of over a hundred, which includes his New Zealand team-mates, coach Andy Moles, the team support staff, Mahela Jayawardene, Ian Bishop, and Danny Morrison.

Given the tour Guptill and New Zealand have had so far, the moment calls for massive cheer all around, and whoops and whistles from his New Zealand team-mates. The setting is the Cheers pub in the basement of the Cinnamon Grand hotel in Colombo, and Guptill’s team, Pole City, has just won a quiz night after staving off last week’s champions, this time around aptly called Beauties & the Beasts, which comprises Jayawardene, his wife Christine, Jehan Mubarak, and the Sri Lankan support staff including assistant coach Paul Farbrace, team trainer Jade Roberts, and physiotherapist Tommy Simsek, and another couple.

Pole City, Beauties & the Beasts, the Daryl Tuffey-lead 6 Guys, 1 Cup – including Daniel Vettori, Shane Bond, Jacob Oram, Ross Taylor, and Gareth Hopkins - and a fourth team all ended the final round of the quiz tied on 68 points and had to go through a general knowledge shootout. In the end, Guptill’s team won and as he walked up to received the trophy the crowd cheered raucously. For once on tour, the New Zealanders were able to laugh out loud.

It was a super evening. Ten teams and a bunch of enthusiastic onlookers were treated to seven rounds of intense quizzing by quizmaster Darren, who along with his wife put up a tremendous show. It was a rare moment where production crew, cameramen, players, commentators, management and the public sat back and just had fun.

I was part of a Ten Sports team that had recently lost to the Sri Lankan team – Jayawardene, Christine, Farbrace and the rest – narrowly. I’d been briefed that our team – aptly titled Give Us Our Trophy Back! – had to beat them this week. Our unit also included the statistician Mohandas Menon. We picked the cricket round as our ‘joker’ round, in which points tallied are doubled. A doozy, right? A cricket-mad television crew, a statistician, and two cricket journalists. You can’t go wrong.

Not really. We ended up short by two points have incorrectly answering two questions in our ‘joker’ round: who hit six sixes in the 2007 World Cup, and which Twenty20 international had the most sixes? The first was so easy that we all just nodded in approval, most of assuming we all knew it was Herschelle Gibbs, but in the milieu of bonhomie the question a few of us heard that they were asking about the World Twenty20 and so the answer penned was Yuvraj Singh. The second answer was a Twenty20 between New Zealand and India earlier this year, while all of us were certain it was the first match of the 2007 ICC World Twenty20.

Shucks. But, still, we were the best Ten Sports team of the five in the fray, so that was some consolation. Even though poor Gavin, the director of production on this tour, won’t be hearing the last of it for having two outsiders in his team.

We started off slowly but gained steam in the sports and film/television round. Gavin was given a hard time by his colleagues because I wasn’t an employee, but all was good-naturedly laughed off ... or so I was assured. At one point, I felt a firm pair of hands on my shoulders and looked up to see Bishop looming above, looking disapprovingly at Gavin. But Bish being the nice man he is, didn’t rib Gavin too hard about it. I’d like to think I made a decent contribution – I got Pamela Anderson’s character’s name in Baywatch and the name of the bartender in The Simpsons, Moe – but the others were really very sharp and we didn’t do too bad at all. There was some intense discussion as to whose derrière one picture was of, but in the end, the racquet manufacturer convinced us it was Maria Sharapova. No, really, it was the racquet handle that did it. There were some other easy ones, such as a behind shot of George Best, at which time Jayawardene yelled out and chided Darren – “What team did he play for?” Props to Gavin for answering ‘Lassie’ to the insanely difficult question about which popular female film and television character was first played by a male in 1943. And the rest of the team all chipped in with some good answers, until of course we came to the easiest one of the lot.

All in all, a really good time was had. It was a scenario I would have never seen back in India. Imagine a visiting cricket team playing a quiz in a pub in Bombay, with Sachin Tendulkar and his wife sitting amid the crowd without security or any intrusion. Great stuff.

As we were leaving, Mike Haysman stopped us, looking rather concerned: “Umm, so boys, which of the cricket questions did you lot not get?” Turns out our team didn’t do as bad as the commentators’ group, out of which Danny Morrison didn’t get a singe question pertaining to New Zealand correctly. Not even the one with the picture of Jade Stadium.

Well at least a few Kiwis did their team-mates proud. Good on ya, Guptill.

“Standby, five-five, seven-seven,” cracks Gavin.

I stare intently at the 22 consoles in front of me to try and spot which one moved when, but I can’t keep up. This is hard work.

I’m sitting inside the Ten Sports production room in the bottom floor of a nondescript green structure at the SSC. It’s a dark room, illuminated by a few flickering tube lights. There are large black coffins all around, used to ship the expensive equipment, and consoles and laptops and other beeping gadgets all around. For a second I recall one of those wire-tapping FBI go-downs that Hollywood pictures have implanted into our mindset.

Gavin, the director, sits in the far left corner. There are 22 screens in front of Gavin, who tells me that’s a small number. There can be as many as 45 when it’s a big series and India are involved. The screens flash almost every conceivable view the cameramen can cover, including the commentators’ box, the dressing rooms, the spectators, the third umpire’s cabin, the press box, and the various entry and exit points. One of the camera constantly provides a panoramic view of the ground and is the one which the team scorecards and summaries are displayed.

Gavin has to coordinate all the cameras across the ground. There’s a panel in front of him by which he can speak to everyone involved. Jude, to his right, is his visual switcher - “my eyes and ears” – and controls what images are inputted. It is only Jude's second day on the job. Behind them is a sound recorder.

Gavin and his team of about 50 have various responsibilities. There’s sound, visual, production to be looked after, all a rapid rate. This is live cricket, remember. One man feeds ball-by-ball information into a computer. Gavin asks one of his crew, over headset, to input statistics for the commentators. Others feed replays and graphics. There’s also a replay co-coordinator and another man who has to check about the ad breaks. More than one laptop has Cricinfo’s ball-by-ball commentary open.

Each of the monitors in front of Gavin – there is one large set which displays the Ten Sports feed that goes out to viewers – has a piece of yellow electric tape stuck on it with the names of the cameramen of a specific code word or number that signifies what angle the camera is covering. A couple say Hamish, Kapilla, Shantha and Yaps. Other are gibberish to me. The side-on view of the bowler is also known as ‘BLUE’ and the angle from the bowler’s arm is ‘BLACK’.

Part of the job is providing the on-air commentators with statistics and news. As Danny Morrison gets talking of New Zealand’s one-day squad, Gavin informs him that the squad is coming up on view for all to see. “VT just said ‘BLUE’”, says Jude to Gavin. Immediately the main screen focuses on Jeetan Patel bowling from side-on.

Gavin was amazed when he first heard I do a lot of ball-by-ball commentary. “How do you type so fast? There’s hardly any time?”Looking at what he and his crew have to do, my job seems like a stroll in the park.

Despite the frenetic pace of proceedings and the constant need to be on guard, there is time for fun and games. “Where’s that American photographer?” asks Gavin into his headset. Almost immediately one of the cameraman picks out Andy down on the sidelines, clicking away. “There he is,” says Gavin. “The American from Portland, Oregon, on assignment covering cricket. Go figure!”

A few minutes later, after feeding Danny Morrison with squad news, Gavin asks him to give camera nine a smile. Morrison turns to his left, eyes on the cameraman in question, and gives us his best Jim Carrey impersonation.

It’s a stressful environment but everyone looks in control. Clearly they’re pros. But, given the duration of live broadcast, there’s the possibility of messing up. “It happens, yeah, but we’re a good unit,” says Gavin. “I shout a lot and things get fixed!" I don’t really have time to ask much because the play is going on live outside. Gavin and his team get roughly 30 second between overs and much of that goes in snacking on a biscuit while keeping one eye on proceedings.

Just then Chris Martin gets Prasanna Jayawardene to top-edge a hook to long-leg. Gavin and Jude sit up. “Purple, then white, roll white!” yells Gavin into his headset while Jude moves his fingers across his console manically. White and purple imply certain camera angle; each angle has a particular colour code. Gavin and Jude get cracking. I take that as my cue to exit and get back to my routine.

What a day. Opened my inbox to hear from a friend on Facebook that Shashi Tharoor, the former UN Under-Secretary to Kofi Annan and a prominent Indian diplomat, had Tweeted about me. Then I watch Daniel Vettori make history at the SSC. After the day’s play, I stand in a guard’s booth fit for two with seven security guards and a machine gun, waiting for the rain to stop. To top it all off, my evening ends with a taxi driver encouraging me to become an actor because, with my dual languages, Arnold Schwarzenegger may one day help me bridge the gap between Hollywood and Bollywood.

True story.

I attend the post-match pressers and make my way to the main gate of the SSC to get my taxi. He calls to say he’s stuck in traffic. It starts to rain. The guard at the gate beckons me to stand in his cabin and stay dry. Thing is, there are already six rather large Devcon security guards and another soldier in commies with a machine gun inside. I hesitate but the rain is getting heavier and I have a laptop, recorder and an ipod in my bag.

“Please, please come,” yells one of the Devcon – that’s like a name out of Robocop. He and another guard make way but we’re really struggling to fit in, especially me with my bag. It’s a tight squeeze if ever I saw one, and I don’t do well with machine guns in my face.

So what do you do in such situations? Well of course, you talk cricket! We don’t get very far because none of them speak English, but settle on the fact that Muttiah Muralitharan is great and that Mahela Jayawardene really gave it to the Kiwis. I keep one eye trained on that machine gun the entire while.

My taxi comes to the wrong gate and I see the driver pulling in, so I excuse myself from the Devcon gang and run after the car. He doesn’t see me in the drizzle and dark, so he heads toward the enclosure inside. Finally I catch him, by this time pretty soaked, and we’re off to the hotel. Barely two minutes into the conversation – about the weather - he says I don’t speak like a foreigner.

I explain that I grew up in India and his eyes light up. His father is from Kerala and he has been on pilgrimages to Ahmaddiya Muslim sites in Kerala, Punjab and Bombay (sorry, I can’t refer to it as Mumbai). I tell him I live in Bombay and he starts telling me about this small mosque near the Bombay Central railway station. I pause. I live five minutes from that station.

Then he says the mosque is down the road from this famous cinema – Maratha Mandir, I remind him to cue much enthusiasm – and near the YMCA. By now the hairs on my neck have stood up. My house is opposite the YMCA and next to the mosque he’s talking about!
Then comes the killer punch. “And next to this little mosque is one building where I was told the white actor in Hindi films lives,” says Mohamed Ali-Bawa. I tell him that’s my father and he loses it, slapping his forehead and exclaiming Allah’s power and taking his eyes off the road to shake my hand. He is thrilled; I am zapped. This cannot be happening.

In the next few minutes we discuss how small the world is, and by the time we pull into the hotel Mohamed has told me I should chuck all this cricket journalism “uselessness” and go in my father’s footsteps. He also tells me that Shah Rukh Khan, the Hindi film superstar who was detained for questioning at a US airport recently, has been invited for dinner by Schwarzenegger. “My friend, you speak English and Hindi, you have real talent which you are hiding,” he cries as I exit the taxi. “You join movies, you get power, you never know, one day Shah Rukh Khan and Arnold come to you and you mix Bollywood with Hollywood! It’s really great to meet you! May we meet again!”

And with that, he pulls out of the hotel driveway. Maybe tomorrow I’ll stick with an autorickshaw.

Its 8 in the evening and I just got back from the most amazing stroll on Galle Face Green, a sea-facing promenade along the longest road in Colombo, Galle Road (which is more a boulevard actually). I’d been recommended by an old college friend to saunter down the promenade when I was here last year, but didn’t get the chance. It was definitely worth it - despite having my left foot run over by a Honda Accord - and I plan to do it again. Its one of Colombo's must-see attractions.

The view of the beach from my hotel window had been tempting me since yesterday and this evening I decided to have a walk The skyline at either ends of the beach makes for stunning viewing. Right from the Ceylon Continental and Galadari hotels, situated at the top of Colombo’s business district, to the Doric-column Old Parliament Building – now the Presidential Secretariat - and the looming World Trade Center (WTC), down to the wonderful and very colonial Galle Fort Hotel at the other end, it is a serene stretch. All the more as the sun sets and the lights from the WTC and Presidential Secretariat light up the evening and the moon sprinkles itself on the Indian Ocean.

It’s about a kilometer and a half stretch, I’m told by an elderly gentleman sitting and enjoying the salt spray of the waves lap against the concrete parapets. There is a large stone plaque overlooking the ocean that decrees: “Galle Face Walk – Commenced by Sir Henry Ward 1856. Completed 1869 and recommended to his successors in the interest of Ladies and Children of Colombo.”

The largest open space in Colombo, the sea face is literally a striking view. Down at the Galle Face Hotel end children jostle their parents to buy them cotton candy and savoury rolls and kuku paaka - coconut chicken with boiled eggs and potatoes – while vendors yell out other sweet-smelling goods and couples cozy up one concrete benches. It’s literally like a mini carnival, with the yells of the vendors and laughter of children sifting into the night sky along side the dancing fireflies. Pondering a tempting piece of barbeque chicken, I suddenly yelp in pain to look down and see that my left foot has been run over a backing-up vehicle. The driver gives me a dirty look and tries to maneuver himself out but has no luck; the tuk tuks are commanding right of way. I decided to chuck the barbeque chicken and limp back. Galle Face Green, I’ll be back. It was a real pleasure.

Airport officials the world over must have told my story a couple times. I’m white. I have an Indian passport.

Yeah, go ahead. Read it again. White. Indian.

I’ve had some pretty interesting – and thoroughly frustrating – incidents at airports in and outside of India, often having to explain the whole story of why I have an Indian passport and even once been asked to show additional documents to prove my passport wasn’t a phony.

Seriously?

The last time I flew to Colombo from Chennai the lady behind the immigration counter took one look at my passport and burst out laughing, then waved to another lady standing behind an empty counter and called her over. After showing her my passport they both had a laugh. Now I don’t speak Tamil but I know when the joke’s on me.

Anyway, this time when I get to the immigration counter in Bangalore there is not much of a line to stand in and I approach the moustached man behind the counter, extending my passport, ticket and immigration form with a smile. He looks at the ticket first, then the immigration form. I love this part.

He takes it, raises an eyebrow over the Republic of India printed on the navy blue cover, flips it open, and …

“Sir, this says Indian citizenship on it.”

”Yes sir, long story.”

“You are Indian?”

I nod.

“Where you stay?”

“In Bangalore, for the last three years.”

“Kannada gothilla?”

“No sir, I don’t speak Kannada. Just Hindi.”

He looks up at me and then back to the passport and repeats the process.

“But how?”

“Well my father is Indian, I was born here, grew up here.”

“Anglo-Indian?”

“No, no. It’s complicated.” I flash a polite smile.

He scans the passport one last time, eyes lingering on the picture and the details.

“Hmm, very interesting. Not seen like this before! Okay, enjoy!”

And I’m through.

* * *

I see a group of boys in black slacks and blue and white collared tee-shirts, standing around the Grab & Fly canteen looking bored. Printed on the front of their T-shirts are the words Aus-Sri Lanka Cricket Academy and on the back their respective names and "Tour of Bangalore 2009". They’re on the same flight as me, because there are others in blue sitting at gate 15.

The group resembles most touring sports teams I’ve seen, minus the bling and excess baggage and oodles of attitude that come with fame and a few overseas tours. They’re aware of their attire and responsibilities as ambassadors for their country and don’t speak loudly, like they probably would the second they get home or when leaving practice back in Sri Lanka. They speak politely to their coach and to two elderly ladies in sarees. One of them reads a book; another one gazes out at the tarmac; two more inspect their squeakily polished shoes. There are no ipods or laptops.

I ask two of them at the counter where they played cricket while in Bangalore. Immediately they back away as if I have just sprouted green antlers. Clearly they’ve been told not to talk to strangers. I try to explain that I’m a cricket journalist and that I’m going to Sri Lanka for the last half of the New Zealand series and then the tri-series, but by this time they nervously look at each other and then smile and join the rest of the touring party.

* * *

In Colombo, the first thing I notice once I get a taxi out of the airport is the fewer army personnel manning civilian areas and the number of road checks. Last summer I was stopped twice within the first 20 minutes of leaving the airport and once more on entering Colombo. This time I wasn’t stopped once. Understandably much of this has to do with the fact that the Sri Lankan military defeated the LTTE in May this year. The driver says it has got much easier and that checks are not as frequent as before. The lady at the hotel reception says I don’t need to carry my passport with me when I step out. It’s rather unlike in 2008 when I was here. Note to self: speak to local journalists about whether things have really changed.

* * *

I dump my suitcase in my hotel room, dash off to our local office, pick up my series accreditation, local SIM card and 3G dongle, chat briefly with the nice folks there, get asked about the Indian sweets I should have brought. Then it’s straight to the SSC, where Sri Lanka’s practice has already begun. After routing fielding drills and a game of football the players move to the nets. I’m the only journalist there. This is in stark contrast to a practice session in India where the media is omnipresent and tons of security guards look on idly, even as hangers-on hustle to catch a glimpse of their heroes.

Kumar Sangakkara is having a bat. Nuwan Zoysa, the former Sri Lankan fast bowler, is looking in top shape and beats the bat twice before drawing a leading edge from the captain. Banter is shared all around. Adjacent to where Sangakkara is batting Dilhara Fernando is bowling to Tharanga Paranavitana. Fernando just jogs in from a few paces. Rangana Herath gets a couple deliveries to really grip and turn. Paul Farbrace, Sri Lanka’s assistant coach, asks one of the support staff if he has any net bowlers who can swing the ball away from left-handers. Quickly two muscular bowlers step forward. Farbrace and Tommy Simsek, the physio, hoot and cheer when Fernando bangs in a short ball to Paranavitana. The net bowlers chat freely with the international bowlers.

Suddenly at 3.25 a shower forces the Sri Lankans to the indoor nets. I try to follow them inside but I’m stopped. I flash my series pass and say I just want to watch but the guards have nothing of it. Walk around the ground freely and make my way to the media manager's office. He's not in but I meet another member of the media contingent and we chat for a while, recalling India's tour last summer.

The rain stops but the Sri Lankans have called it quits. Off they go in the team bus. Off I go to the hotel, and then to search for my first meal of the day. From tomorrow, its full time cricket.