It was everything I expected it to be. And then some more. Surprisingly though, for someone who’s used to seeing matches in smaller stadiums, the size of the ground was not the most striking aspect of MCG. In fact, that it appeared perfectly normal to my eyes was what struck me. It can’t be appearing normal. It shouldn’t be. I had always thought MCG is a huge stadium.  Of course it is. That’s what we saw on TV for all these years. But here I am, standing in the Bradman stand and wondering if it was all an illusion on TV. Then I started walking around the stands to get to the place where Indians were practicing, and that’s when the sheer magnitude of the stadium hit me. It’s huge. It’s wide. It’s long. It’s an amphitheater. It’s one of the few grounds in the world which makes you wonder about the difficulty of being a 3^rd man fielder before you can think about pitch, toss, team composition et al.

It’s both ironic and appropriate that the first two countries that I watched cricket in, beyond India, are England and Australia. I wonder if any other sport has such contrasting grounds as Trent Bridge and MCG. One is as accessible as it gets and the other is the most awe-inducing. One makes you feel closer to the game, relate to the players at so many levels, it makes you want to hug the ground if it’s possible. The other draws the line clearly. It places the athlete in a pedestal. It puts you in your place – you are just the spectator. And once it puts you where you belong, then it treats you royally. It allows you to absorb greatness from a vantage point, to stand in awe, to create myths.

It’s almost uncanny that the stadium in which the match takes place influences a fan’s experience as much as it does. At least so it was for me. When I see a short ball being pulled away for a six in Trent Bridge, I admire the shot for sure, but the bowler is still occupying my mind space. I almost feel for the guy. Of course he knows he shouldn’t have done it, but he did. He’s human. TV is a cruel device in that sense that it inanimates the whole experience. It’s easy to be cold. It’s an armchair critic’s best friend. And when I see the same short ball being pulled away for a six in MCG, my mind has no space for anything but glorifying the batsman, to marvel at his ability to pick the length early, to back his instinct, and to execute it perfectly to clear a rather lot of real estate. I am not sure if MCG inspires greatness from players but it surely elevates it for the viewer.

If Trent Bridge makes you want to hug it, MCG would make you want to prostrate at its feet.