The sun had set over Dhaka, and the city buzzed with the energy of the Asia Cup. For cricket fans, it was a festival of heroes—a chance to encounter the players they admired, players who inspired them to stay glued to matches and revere each boundary and wicket. For me, that Asia Cup wasn’t just a spectacle on TV but a rare chance to meet a friend from Sri Lanka and get a glimpse into the world of cricket's legends, a privilege for any devoted fan.
That friend was Kanagasabapathy Arulmoly, or Arul, as I fondly call him. Arul had come to Dhaka for work, yet he shared my love for cricket as if it were part of his very spirit. We bonded on Facebook through our mutual admiration for the game, each respecting the other’s nation’s strengths and players. When Arul invited me to meet him at the Pan Pacific Sonargaon Hotel—the very hotel where Asia Cup teams were staying—I could hardly contain my excitement.
Braving Dhaka’s relentless traffic from Mirpur to Sonargaon Hotel was no small feat. But, as any cricket fan knows, traffic is a small price to pay for an evening spent in the company of a friend and the mere possibility of meeting the cricketers we idolized. I arrived a bit late, yet my spirits were high, and Arul greeted me with the warmth of an old friend. As we took our seats in the lounge, our conversation flowed effortlessly, every word a celebration of our shared love for cricket.
To our surprise, we spotted Rahul Sharma, the tall Indian leg spinner, engaged in a phone call. Arul, ever the optimist, nudged me and said, “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get a chance to meet the others.” I laughed, imagining the barriers—security, player protocols, and the very aura that separated fans from the world of their cricketing heroes.
We moved to the dining area and spotted a cluster of Indian players—Gautam Gambhir, Suresh Raina, Virat Kohli, and the Pathan brothers, all sharing a meal with Praveen Kumar. Arul and I shared a quiet, shared thrill. Kohli stood up to get dessert, and Arul encouraged me to approach him. I greeted him with a “Salaam,” but he appeared uninterested, as did Gambhir. I retreated, half-disappointed yet still exhilarated at just being in their presence.
It was then that we noticed MS Dhoni sitting alone, lost in thought. As I watched him, I felt an inexplicable connection—here was the calm, steadfast leader who had steered his team to countless victories. Despite the opportunity, I hesitated to disturb him, but Arul and I speculated—was he seated alone by choice, or did he prefer a quiet moment to himself amidst the team’s usual camaraderie?
As we were about to leave the dining area, we encountered Azhar Ali, the rising Pakistani batsman. With a respectful “Salaam,” I asked if we might take a photo together, and he graciously agreed, leaving me touched by his warmth and generosity. Our excitement only grew as we walked toward the poolside, where we found Younis Khan. Ever the gentleman, Younis greeted me with a bright smile, and, with my friend’s help, we captured a treasured moment in a photograph. Younis soon departed, but Arul and I continued exploring the poolside, captivated by each player encounter.
We soon came upon Misbah-ul-Haq, Saeed Ajmal, and Umar Gul, relaxed and unwinding. While Ajmal was busy on a call, Misbah graciously allowed us to take a picture, though his demeanour was reserved. But it was Umar Gul who left a lasting impression. Friendly and welcoming, he invited us to sit beside him for the photo. As we thanked him and moved on, we both felt a deep appreciation for the kindness that these players showed to their fans.
Back at the dining area, Dhoni was still seated alone. Summoning courage, I approached him and asked, “Sir, may I have a snap with you?” To my delight, Dhoni agreed, inviting me to sit with him. Despite some camera troubles, he patiently waited for his calm and humility a testament to the respect he held for fans. His humility amazed me—a player of his stature, treating a fan as if they mattered.
The memories from that evening are some of my most cherished, not just because I met these players but because I glimpsed a side of them that transcended their on-field personas. Each encounter reminded me that cricket is as much about humility, respect, and connection as it is about skill and triumph. Though the Asia Cup of that year ended with the heartbreak of a narrow loss for Bangladesh, it left me with memories that I will carry with me forever. And while this year I couldn’t recreate the experience, the lessons of that night remain clear: cricket is not just a game; it’s a shared language, bridging cultures, and bringing together hearts.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
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