Keeping Wickets at Circo Massimo

One early spring afternoon,we accompanied an eclectic group of foreigners — Indian,English and a few Scandinavians who had developed an unlikely interest in a foreign sport — to Circo Massimo in the heart of Rome. Circo Massimo was the racing ground in ancient Rome,where charioteers hurtled round the arena,a few tumbling to their deaths under rampaging hooves,and where Ben Hur famously found redemption. The stadium eventually fell out of fashion,and now the tracks are covered with a smattering of grass and the stands have disappeared over 2,000 years of disuse,most of the stone recycled into building other monuments in the city. Similarly,our procession to the middle of the racing track received scant attention. We were there to play a game of cricket.

But we soon attracted a new breed of Romans: a Pakistani with his eight-year old son. Mujib Khan had been in Italy for over eight years and supplemented his income by cooking “the best biryani in Rome”. He egged on his son to bowl consecutive overs. “His mother is Italian,” Khan explained,“so I have to make sure he plays as much cricket as possible.”

Cricket was also flourishing in another racing arena. Near the international airport a short train journey from the central station,we found the Capannelle Cricket Club. A game was underway in a field skirted by horse tracks used for the prestigious Derby Italiano. The Nomads Club from London was playing against the Capannelle senior team,made up of players over 40. Two grey-haired players from Nomads ambled across for a single and on the edge of the field,Sri Lankan Eranga Perera notched up a large number on the scoreboard. “Kumar Sangakarra,Thisara Perera,” he reeled off his compatriots’ names,“Sunrisers is the team for us Sri Lankans.”

Till six months ago,Perera was working at the flower fairs in the Netherlands which satisfy the world’s hunger for freshly cut tulips. But the markets in Italy have not been as welcoming. “No job for six months,” he told us. It was only his second day with the club,but he hoped to make rapid progress. “I want to play in the team for tomorrow’s game,” he said. Performance on the pitch could offer other perks,as well,“Maybe I can make some contacts in the club,and get a job.” During the drinks break,Alfonso Jayarajah,founding member of the Capannelle Cricket Club,hustled us to a table spilling over with Italian biscotti and flasks of milk-tea. He recounted his half-century old association with Italian cricket. In the 1950s,the Doria-Pamphili,a prominent noble family,obtained an English son-in-law,Frank Pogson. On their sprawling grounds,Pogson set up a cricket pitch,ironically a game his son claimed he hated. Perhaps Pogson wanted to ensure there was at least one “corner of a foreign field that is forever England”. Jayarajah was a cricketing pioneer in Rome,enjoying the game in the relative tranquillity of the Pamphili estate while the 1968 university riots swept through Europe. As fissures spread back home to Sri Lanka,he stayed on in Italy “because of the problems,” he said. “I am a Tamil.” We turned to applaud a stroke. And then Jayarajah added,“But I have Sinhalese in the team. All the other Sri Lankan players are Sinhalese.”

In the late 1960s,games were only played between international agencies and embassies. Participation from local Italians soon picked up,aided by stringent quotas on the number of Italians playing in the first-league Serie A. This included rules that stipulated the positions in the batting order and the bowling quotas for the Italian players.

Pietro Bonapace was one of the few Italians on the team. Thirty years into his association with the club,Bonapace still enjoyed the game. He told us there was a spurt of support from Italians in the 1990s,but with limited resources,cricket pitches are few and far between. Sustained local support can make a difference. The stronghold of Italian cricket is the otherwise-unknown village of Pianoro near Bologna in the north,which has dominated the Serie A over the last two decades. “The local headmaster enjoyed the game so much,he ensured every student in the school played it,” Bonapace said.

Jayarajah is hopeful about the future; he pointed to Italy running Ireland close,to within two balls of defeat,in the Twenty-Twenty qualifiers in 2012. Bonapace thinks the children of people from cricket-playing nations will carry the innings forward. Some of them,mostly of south-Asian descent,were sitting on the benches behind him. On the horse track closest to us,a group of girls in jogging suits sprinted to one end,swivelling around to run down their faux-wicket.

The paucity of pitches means that players have to travel great distances for matches. Motivating audiences to attend is as difficult. Bonapace mentioned that the crowds used to be larger. As he padded up,he lamented that cricket in Italy is “Ten per cent fun and 90 per cent hassle!” He stubbed out his freshly-lit cigarette and jogged into the field as his teammate had been caught on the boundary.

The next day,we went to the birthplace of cricket in Rome,the Villa Pamphili grounds: an unbelievable 400 acres of green in the city. Large meadows are flanked by thick stretches of the Roman pine trees,whose trunks stretch into the skies before flaring into foliage,like giant parasols. We crossed the family palace,with inlaid arches that held Renaissance statues. There was a game on between the Colosseo Cricket Club and the Villa Pamphili Club (both teams almost entirely made up of Sri Lankans). A large black suitcase stood in for the stumps at one end of the pitch.

We then met Arun who makes a 20 km journey into Rome every day to wait on tables. Arun repeated the commute on his only day off; a Sunday cricket game was too tempting. He spent his first three years in Italy without documents,“danger time”,he called it. But now he has a steady job and two sons in Italy. The field was besieged with running paths and the game halted every time a jogger passed. Other Italians lounging in the park looked on curiously. The next game was more serious. Stumps replaced the suitcase,while branches were swapped for yellow flags to mark the boundary. The batsmen opened their shoulders and rained sixes across the park. The Italians found themselves in the firing line,taking cover from a game they didn’t understand. Arun told us his four-year old son was watching the IPL at home. “I will get him here soon,” he said,“and make sure he plays cricket.”

Kaushik and Jonathan work in international development agencies in Rome. Kaushik’s first novel Windhorse,to be published by HarperCollins,will be out in August.