For cricketers grinding it out in the dull, dreary life of domestic cricket, the IPL was a chance to live the good life - the five-star hotels, the high on glamour parties, and most importantly, fans. It was everything they had always dreamed of but never quite had.
Unfortunately, that is the lot of us cricket correspondents too. No matter how good friends you are with a cricketer, more often than not, he stops short of letting you in to his inner circle. Or so I had thought.
My first, and so far only, brush with fame came at Bangalore where a friend and I tagged along with an India cricketer to a party thrown in the ‘honour’ of Bangalore’s win the day before.
While I have attended more than my share of parties, believe me when I say that this one was nothing like I had seen before. No sooner had the three of us entered the club than everyone made a beeline for the entrance. And while most of the attention was directed, and understandably so, at the cricketer, I must admit that I too had my fair share of eager eyes. There I was — the centre well, almost — of attention. Everything being tabbed on the house, it was awesome. And the best part was that it would get better. Suddenly, the music stopped and the lights were dimmed. And there they were… the unbelievably hot Washington Redskins cheerleaders catwalking their way in to the club. Everyone’s jaw dropped, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a puddle of drool too!
When my cricketer friend decided to go and say hi to the women, I was hoping against hope that through some quirk of fate, the cheerleaders would have read the Hindustan Times, seen my photograph in the blogs and recognised me!
However, rather predictably, none of that happened, and I had to quietly sit in a corner while the cheerleaders reserved all their attention for the cricketers.
It was back to reality for me!