Cricket’s 1997–98 season gave us two pitch fiascos. Everyone remembers Sabina Park, Kingston – West Indies vs England, called off after half an hour because the surface was a death trap. But that same winter, Indore’s Nehru Stadium staged its own three-over circus on Christmas Day, complete with court petitions, police barricades, and a groundsman who started a small war.
India were hosting Sri Lanka for a three-match ODI series. The first match in Guwahati saw India stroll to a seven-wicket win. Next stop was Indore for the Christmas Day game on December 25. Before the series, Indian team officials had told the groundsmen they wanted grass and bounce. The plan was blunt – make Sri Lanka’s stroke-makers uncomfortable.
What they walked into was a brown, cracked disaster. Narendra Menon, the Indore groundsman, insisted the pitch would help both spin and pace. One glance told you he was dreaming. The surface looked like it would explode on impact. Indian officials cornered Menon. Voices rose. Finally, he agreed to whip up a fresh strip. His crew cut the turf, poured water, and started rolling.
The Sri Lankan team bus pulled up while this emergency work was underway. They saw the panic and smelled a rat. Why prepare a new pitch overnight unless you are cooking something for the home bowlers? The original strip was match-ready, they argued. Use that one.
Match referee Ahmed Ebrahim from Zimbabwe was called in. He looked at both tracks and ruled that the first pitch had to be used. You cannot prepare a proper wicket in less than twenty-four hours. Rules are rules.
Arjuna Ranatunga won the toss and chose to bat. Javagal Srinath opened the bowling, not at full pace, but still extracted vicious lift and sideways movement. Fourth ball, Romesh Kaluwitharana tried a drive and dragged it onto his stumps. Roshan Mahanama took a single off his first ball. The last ball of the over kicked up from nowhere, caught Sanath Jayasuriya’s bat high, and flew to Rajesh Chauhan at first slip. He dropped a sitter.
Rajesh Chauhan opened from the other end with his off-spin. The first ball landed a foot outside Mahanama’s off stump, ripped past his leg stump, beat Nayan Mongia completely, and ran away for four byes. The rest of the over followed the same pattern. The pitch was eating itself alive.
Srinath’s second over became pure lottery. The first ball stayed ankle-high. The second flew chest-high. The third scooted along the ground. By now, the batsmen were lunging forward and hoping. Someone was bound to get hurt. Srinath’s sixth ball cracked Mahanama on the glove. Both batsmen waved their arms at the umpires.
Ranatunga walked out to speak to Tendulkar. Ebrahim joined them. Officials gathered around. For nearly an hour, they argued. Ebrahim looked at the crumbling surface. Indore administrators insisted it was fine. Ebrahim did not blink. Too dangerous, he ruled.
But there was another problem. Around 25,000 people were sitting in the stands. Cancelling the match outright risked chaos. So both captains agreed to a face-saver – a 25-over exhibition match on the neighbouring strip.
The exhibition match ended with little enthusiasm. Within minutes, Indian officials fenced off the main pitch and flew in Kapil Dev to investigate. Ravi Shastri walked to the middle and pressed the toe of his boot into a good length area. The surface gave way like wet sand.
Newspapers across India shredded the organisers. Others demanded ICC action. The BCCI quietly struck Indore off its list of approved venues for a period.
Media reaction was fierce. Organisers were slammed. How could international teams be asked to play on such a surface?
The loudest defence came from Jaywant Lele. He said the referee was hasty and should have waited for three more overs. He added that players wear helmets and pads anyway, and that batsmen can get hurt even on good pitches.
It landed badly. Cricket is not boxing. Protection does not excuse neglect.
One of the umpires, Devendra Sharma, was officiating in his first ODI. He had played cricket for Delhi University. This was how his international umpiring career began – with three overs of chaos and a courtroom drama.
A local lawyer, Shailendra Dwivedi, filed a petition in an Indore court. He demanded action against everyone involved for fraud and cheating spectators. By the time Kapil Dev’s inquiry committee arrived, the pitch was already destroyed. Schoolchildren had played on it. Motorcycles had left tyre marks.
Local authorities ordered a full probe. The case reached the court. Police sealed the pitch with barbed wire. Guards were posted. The Madhya Pradesh Inter-Corporation tournament was postponed. A.W. Kanmadikar, former BCCI secretary, said forming a committee was pointless. He suggested reviewing the video of those three overs and consulting experts to decide where the administration went wrong.
The Chief Minister ordered refunds for all spectators. People had come for a match. They got a very different experience instead.
This became the first One Day International ever called off because the pitch was unsafe. India and Sri Lanka did not fail that day. Administrators did. Planning did. The belief that cricket can adjust to anything did.
Madhya Pradesh officials fumed about the speed of the decision. They claimed they had offered to prepare another pitch. But the ship had sailed.
Christmas Day in Indore was not loud like Sabina Park. It did not last long enough to become folklore. But it left a quiet mark. A reminder that cricket’s trust begins underfoot. When that breaks, everything else follows.
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