Title: My Summer of Cricket: Three Tests, One Fan and Decades of Stories
Author: Nikhil Kulkarni
Chapter 4
NEW YEAR’S TEST/PINK TEST, SYDNEY
Days 0 and 1
I’ve never been good at packing, or planning my time well when it comes to packing for trips. For someone who prides himself on colour-coded Google calendar entries and spreadsheet grocery lists, there’s something about stuffing a suitcase that makes me irrationally confident until it’s far too late. Which is how I found myself, on 2 January, standing in my living room with three open bags, a half-zipped duffel and no idea where my power bank was. My flight to India was on 8 January, which was just one day after the Sydney Test wrapped up, and it was starting in less than twenty-four hours. I had somehow left everything till now.
I don’t know if it was the festive lull after New Year’s, or the post-Melbourne daze still swirling in my head, but the realisation hit like a short ball I never saw coming. This wasn’t just a regular trip back home. This time, I was planning to stay for a while. A good month, in fact. Back to my hometown in Karnataka to see family, to catch up with people I’d kept meaning to visit. Which meant not just packing clothes, but packing with purpose – gifts, clothes, souvenirs I spent wayyy too much money on at the MCG, all the good stuff. I panicked a little. Then I panicked a lot. And then, in true form, I threw whatever I could find into the bags, convinced I’d sort it out somehow. Little did I know then that I’d have plenty of time to repack everything.
But, even as I was frantically shoving things into suitcases, my mind kept drifting to the match. This one felt different. Not because of the venue, though. The Sydney Cricket Ground (SCG) wasn’t some unfamiliar pilgrimage. I’d been there more times than I could count. In fact, it’s kind of a family tradition at this point to take the kids to watch WBBL (Women’s Big Bash League) matches and at least one day of the Pink Test every year. So, I knew this ground. I knew where the good coffee was, where the shade started creeping by the second session, and which section’s crowd always went too hard too early. But somehow, this didn’t feel routine. It felt big.
Part of it was the stakes. After four gripping Tests, Australia was on the cusp of winning the series, leading at 2–1. If India won, the series tied and the Border–Gavaskar Trophy stayed with them, as it had for the last eight years. But if Australia won, or even managed to draw? They’d take the cup back. That possibility had everyone on edge. And despite the chaos around me, I couldn’t help but feel the buzz of it too.
And then, of course, there was the familiar question I never quite knew how to answer: who was I even supporting? Born in India, citizen of Australia. Proud of my Indian heritage and equally proud of the Australian values. I’d cheered for Kohli’s centuries and Cummins’s yorkers with equal joy. So I did what I always do – I leaned into the game. I wasn’t there to take sides. I just wanted to see how it all played out.
The next day, I woke up early. Though I always wake up around the same time, this morning felt less like discipline and more like pre-match electricity. It was the kind of early where you don’t even need an alarm because your brain has already sprinted ahead, mentally packing sunscreen, triple-checking ticket PDFs, and wondering whether the security staff will let you bring in homemade sandwiches (they do).
Luckily, one part of the plan had been sorted well in advance: parking. Now, this is where I must pause and offer a public service announcement to all future Sydney cricket enthusiasts, especially the ones who think it’s a good idea to just find a spot on the day of the match or brave the 40-kilometre public transport haul from the outer suburbs.
Don’t do that. Book your parking at the QVB with Wilson Parking.
Book it early. Like, four days early. You’ll lock in a spot right in the middle of the city for what is basically loose change compared to sameday rates. Plus, you’re walking distance from an actual toilet and decent coffee. Then, hop on the light rail and enjoy the glorious fifteen-minute tram ride to Moore Park with no transfers, no platform guessing and no train-station drama. It’s the Test match equivalent of finding a hundred-dollar note in your old jeans. Thank me later.
By the time I’d parked, trammed and emerged into the growing pink tide outside the SCG, I felt oddly calm. Everything had worked. My bag was light, my timing was perfect and I still had sunscreen in my hand. I pumped my chest and walked like a man with a plan. And this plan was a little more than just watching the match, I was attending a breakfast hosted by the Primary Club of Australia.
Now, I hadn’t heard of the Primary Club of Australia until I got the invite, and discovering them felt like one of those serendipitous gifts this summer kept offering. Their mission is beautifully simple: every time a professional cricketer gets out for a duck, members donate to support athletes with disabilities. That’s it. It’s the kind of idea that slips under the radar, but once you hear it, you can’t stop thinking about how right it feels. Humble, purposeful, and very cricket.
The breakfast itself was held on the morning of Day 1 of the Sydney Test, and it’s a bit of a tradition at the SCG. Irfan Malik, who we met earlier, had been hearing about my cricket travels and kindly offered me an invite. AIBC was one of the partners for the event. It was a wonderful New Year’s gift and I was very excited to attend the breakfast event.
Inside, it was a mix of nostalgia and networking. There were white tablecloths, polite applause and a menu that could have been lifted straight from a five-star hotel buffet. But the heart of the morning was a panel discussion titled State of the Game, featuring Mark Taylor, Ed Cowan and Cricinfo editor Andrew McGlashan. It wasn’t just small talk or highlight reels, they offered frank insights on where the game stood, what was working, and what needed fixing. Taylor brought his statesman-like calm, Cowan was thoughtful and reflective, and McGlashan added the sharp edge of someone who watches the sport with both love and scrutiny. While there was a certain heft and seriousness to the conversation, it was also very refreshing and natural. You could see that everyone on the panel and in the room in general was engaged and excited about the game ahead.
Somewhere between the eggs Benedict and the raffle for Pat Cummins’s signed bat, I found myself genuinely moved by what the Primary Club was doing. It was a reminder that cricket isn’t only about bat and ball. It’s about connection and causes that quietly build momentum in the background while the spotlight stays on the field. I signed up as a member right at the event thanks to the QR codes conveniently placed at every table. Who would’ve thought QR codes, a mechanism invented in Japan for labelling auto parts, would become such a ubiquitous part of our lives!
It turned out my neighbour at the table was Mohit Kumar, a local councillor I’d seen at other events. We had a brief chat about two things we had in common: cricket and Blacktown (our local council), and then I made my way to the book sales counter. There they were: signed copies of Pat Cummins’s autobiography. The book had been on my reading list for a while and these were of course signed copies! I asked how many they’d let one person buy because I didn’t want to be that guy sweeping the whole pile. They had a small limit per guest, which made sense. I picked up the maximum allowed. Some for me, some for a few people back in India who’d know exactly why this mattered. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that cricket books make excellent surprise gifts, especially when they’re signed. And even more so when you can hand one over with a casual, ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just something I picked up at breakfast with Mark Taylor.
ABOUT THE BOOK:
From a village in North Karnataka in India to the bright lights of Sydney, Nikhil has lived and breathed the inevitable highs and lows that come with being a cricket fan.
From listening to early morning radio commentaries to witnessing Sachin Tendulkar’s final match, Nikhil insists that every hour he was engrossed in watching, listening to and thinking about cricket was time well spent. This dedication culminated in the summer of 2024-25, when he undertook a personal pilgrimage to Brisbane, Melbourne and Sydney, attending every single match day of the ‘2024–25 India vs. Australia Border- Gavaskar Trophy’ test series. The book traces Kulkarni’s devotion to the sport over the last three decades where he meets fascinating people, explores new cities and forges new, unforgettable memories. To read My Summer of Cricket is to understand that cricket is more than a game – it’s a connection between the peoples of different countries, a vehicle for supporting meaningful causes, and a way to bridge generations.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nikhil Kulkarni is a Sydney-based tech leader, recognised community voice, and lifelong cricket tragic who has followed the game across India and Australia for more than three decades. An avid quizzer with a love for puns, he and his wife are raising two daughters in a home that celebrates both Indian heritage and Australian values.
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