By So last month I got this wild idea watching street kids play cricket with a broken bat behind my shop. Thought to myself – what if we make a proper league? Not just for rich clubs, real Delhi folks playing hardball cricket. Called it Delhi Premier League because why not sound fancy?
First Disaster: Money Talk
Went straight to Mr. Kapoor who owns that marble export company. Dude laughed his tea out when I asked for sponsorship. “No India-Pakistan match, no TV? Forget it!” Banged my head walking out. Then remembered Sharma Ji whose son’s cricket gear shop was struggling. Convinced him to sponsor four balls and two bats if we put his shop name on the tickets.
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Made these trash can trophies myself:
- Bought cheapest plastic cups from Sadar Bazaar
- Spray-painted gold – stank up whole building
- Glued badminton shuttlecocks on top as “cricket balls”
- Looked like my toddler made them
Team Drama Madness
Put notices at every paan shop. First practice day? Showed up at Yamuna ground at 6am. By 7 only three guys came. One kept asking if we’d get IPL scouts. Another wanted to know if lunch included. Almost gave up when suddenly twenty rickshaw drivers pulled up. Their union head heard about it and brought his whole gang!
Chaos started immediately:
- Tailor team fought with mechanics team over pitch side
- Some college kids showed up wearing full Kohli jerseys – got roasted hard
- Argument about tennis ball vs leather ball lasted 45 minutes
Honestly thought they’d start throwing punches. Then Monu – this auto driver – grabbed the mic and shouted “Who wants chai?” Saved the whole damn thing.
The Actual Carnage
Match day came. Forgot to bring wickets. Used three bricks stacked up. Scorekeeper got drunk on the sly during 2nd innings. Our “VIP area” was just plastic chairs where stray dogs kept peeing. Best moment? When Mrs. Gupta from flower market team hit a six straight into Sharma Ji’s shop window! Glass shattered everywhere but he cheered loudest – free publicity!
Why do I bother? Reminds me of playing with dad’s team back when we didn’t care about contracts or fame. Seeing those rickshaw guys high-fiving like kids made my whole year. Worth every headache.
