We've all seen some pretty poor umpiring decisions in recent time. But the worst umpiring in the annals of cricketing history was probably in a certain match played in Delhi in 1962. I should know: the umpire was me. It was a match played between Class 5A and 5B of St Columba's. And I was 12th-man-cum-umpire of the 5A team. Actually, I desperately wanted to play in the match, but being the smallest boy in the class, I didn't inspire much confidence in the selectors. So I volunteered to be at least 12th-man-and-umpire. My credentials for this were impeccable. First, I was renowned among my class-mates as a walking encyclopaedia of cricket. Second, I had planted the rumour (false) that I was Tiger Pataudi's nephew. But, most important, I was the only sucker willing to show up on a Sunday, even when there was no chance of either batting or bowling. The morning of the match I woke up at 5.30 and dressed carefully in my new cricket boots (size 3 1/2), my blazer, and a silk scarf filched from my father. Then, optimistically, I packed my kit-bag with pads, gloves and bat. (Who could say? Somebody might make a no-show, and I might be required to open the batting, after all.) I looked not like a lowly 12th man, but like Douglas Jardine leading out the MCC team at Lords. Our opponents won the toss, batted first and were all out for about 60 runs. My own personal contribution in this was my dazzling expert comments, and a sterling performance at the water matka. Then, by mid-morning, my team went in to bat, with myself (silk scarf, blazer, etc) as umpire. Now, the Class 5B team were commonly known to be a bunch of hulking bullies, some of them nearly five feet tall. And most menacing of them all was their fast bowler, Khanna, a terror both in the school corridors and on the cricket field. Within his first few heart-stoppingly fast deliveries he rapped our opener, Desai, on the pad. The entire 5B team then turned and converged on me, roaring an appeal for lbw. It was not that I was intimidated, but somehow it looked like they had a point. I decided to give Desai out. Next man in was Bhattacharya. A couple of balls later he missed the ball. And again the entire 5B team closed in on me, appealing menacingly. I couldn't be absolutely certain that the ball had touched the stumps, but their confidence seemed convincing. So I quickly gave Bhattacharya out. He left, but only after a heated argument, and threats. (Well, at least nobody could accuse me of partisanship.) The third man in was Hamid. Frankly, I don't know precisely what happened, but as he took a big swipe, the ball somehow hit the wrong side of his bat. Once again, the 5B team turned and converged on me, appealing deafeningly. I admit now that my judgement was slightly clouded by the circumstances, but I found myself raising my finger. Hamid was out, for "ulta bat". It was at this point that my entire team invaded the field, bodily lifted me up, carried me off and dumped me on the side of the road. Another umpire was produced from somewhere, and the match continued. After that incident, I continued to dazzle my classmates with my cricketing trivia in the classroom. But I was never again allowed to step onto the field, either as umpire, 12th man, or anything else. Creative Director Anvar Alikhan hasn't played cricket for some time, thanks to a broken leg.
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