It is known as The Colosseum - mainly because of its shape and a chequered history of inhospitable crowds and poor odds for visiting teams - but the first time I saw Calcutta's Eden Gardens about 15 years ago, I dared to dream that one day I might see England play there. Through a quirk of fate, that dream came true this week, and it has not remotely disapointed. Not only has the cricket been tremendously enjoyable - including fine performances from two of the world's greatest test batsmen- but the atmosphere has been electric, just as I imagined.
Getting to the ground was more than a challenge. Because of the heat, and unlike most test cricketing nations that kick off around 11am, Test matches in India begin at 9am, so we failed to get there on time due to an abject inability to read the small print on the tickets. That failure was even more punnishing when we got there to be told that cameras of any kind were "not permitted" (something else mentioned on the tickets) and so we had to walk back to the hotel to leave them behind. Although only a short 20 minute walk, that walk took us through the Calcutta Bus Station - easily the worst square half mile I've ever been in, full of the most putrid smells and rotten filth and fraught with the danger of traffic and the sad sights of tiny, often injured and certainly destitute puppies.
Finally we made it along to the ground, and were soon put upon by one of the stranger invasions of privacy I've experienced. It is often said that one of the problems with India is that you can find yourself being stared at by a crowd people as you go about your business. This annoyance reached new heights as a TV camerman parked himself infront of us as we watched the cricket and trained his lense on us...for about 10 minutes. After 10 minutes he relaxed his tired arm, but instead of walking away or focussing on the cricket as we hoped he might; he instead called up his tripod carrier so he could film us some more without effort! We weren't entirely sure why we drew so much attention, but we eventually concluded it was True-Aussie Terresa's "I love India" hat!
While Terresa made her colours clear, I too had ended up accidently wearing my sympathies on my sleave - literally. On the way to the ground a chap offered to paint the St George Cross on my arm. I said "no" but he refused to listen and did it anyway. However, the badly painted white and blood-red cross led most people to just think I had sustained an injury!
The first day we cooked in the hot Calcutta sun, ironic of course as England's Captain is named Alistair Cook. England accounted for themselves well and held India to 270-odd at stumps, taking the crucial wicket of Sachin Tendulkar well short of the century his adoring fans had hoped for. We made it along in the afternoon for the second day and by then England had bowled out India for a modest 316 and were well on the way to a controlling first innings total with the Captain and opener on the way to a century of his own.
Yet at times - in this ground well known for its riots and once referred to as a "Cauldron" (by Bob Willis - one of the only English 11 to win here) - various incidents of crowd insanity were far more compelling than the genteel events at the crease. The ground certainly boasts the noisiest and fastest Mexican Wave of any I've been in. The Barmy army - who usually command any ground they visit - had been strangely silent on day one and, I suspect, probably didn't expect to be spending the day in a "dry" ground. By Day two, however, they were far more rowdy - had they all found a creative way to smuggle in alcohol I wondered? But pretty soon the Indians had crowded out their area and at times drowned out their tunes - I've seen the barny army quiet, but never silenced. Luckily they had brought a trumpet which certainly helped.
Most of all though, the adulation for the "Little Master", Sachin Tendulkar, is beyond hero worship. Whenever he was posted to the boundary to field, the crowd flocked to meet him like so many moths to a flame. In fact the crowd followed him to such a degree soldiers were deployed to manage them wherever Sachin went to field, often getting crushed against the fencing in their efforts. The sheer noise of their excitement at his very presence was indeed deafening and always detracted from the cricket. In fact, noise and heat were - as I had expected 15 years before - the overwhelming aspects of this experience. Very few people could concentrate at the crease against the din raised on Sharma's run up or when Trott faced his first ball. But - I am happy to say - England proved solid and unswayable and could be - as I write - on their way to their first victory here since the 70s.
Our Eden Gardens adventure ended as it had began - on the TV. A TV interview for both of us on our exit of the ground about our views on the match. I said that I thought England might win, Aussie Terresa proudly declared said she hoped India would!