A Dutchman and his Indian wife would become overnight celebrities in the oppressive afternoon heat. Inquisitive youngsters crowded Wolmar Welterop and Pragya while they were looking for their entry gate, much to their enjoyment. Wolmar, who is simultaneously astonished and perplexed, declares, “I have never experienced something like this before.” They quickly took selfies and pictures before a group of local broadcast journalists barged in and started following them.
Wolmar, a company consultant in Dubai, had no idea that an all-orange outfit (apart from the white shirt) would draw attention in a place that adores its colors. The wide-brimmed hat was orange-splashed, as were the skinny-fitting pants. The rim of his oversized glasses was also raised.
However, she wore an orange bandana and an orange plastic garland in addition to her more sober outfit. We haven’t even entered the stadium when he comments, “I never thought my first experience watching a cricket match would be this eventful.”
Neither are they sports nuts or cricket tragics. Wolmar claims he doesn’t even follow Dutch soccer. “However, when I learned that the Netherlands would be playing a match in India and our friend, who works for the International Cricket Council, offered us tickets, we reasoned, ‘Why not?’ and packed our bags.
We’ve always wished to visit the countryside. The moment their friend unexpectedly shows there and drags them away before a larger crowd notices them, he says, “I have been Wikipedia-ing about both the sport and the nation in the last few days.
Though not necessary as a sign of support for the Dutch squad, orange was arguably the most common color in the stadium.
Many attendees wore Sunrisers Hyderabad shirts, which are orange and brown. The majority of the plastic seats were either red or orange, perfectly harmonizing with the Dutch shirt’s orange-soda hue.
One of the paid cheerleaders held a sizable brownish orange flag with the words Dazzling Dutch emblazoned on it. Pakistan is Shaan, thus there was one for Pakistan as well.
The Dutch quickly rose to the top of the supporter rankings. The audience had cheered for Pakistan when the afternoon had started. A wave of cheers fizzed in the arena, which was still only partially full, every time they crossed a barrier.
Around modern batting tycoon Babar Azam, there was an understandable enthusiasm. A girl had a Pakistani flag painted on her face with the word “Babar” beneath it. A little child was parading through the seats while holding up a collage of Babar’s photo and shouting angrily from behind Pakistan’s dugout to get his attention.
A brief glance from Babar was all it took for him to jump for delight, but a stiff-mustachioed policeman quickly ordered him to control his emotions.
The Pakistani captain struggled to excite the audience because he was unusually jittery, battling with timing, unable to assess the length, and attempting incorrect shots. The audience would exhale and clap their hands together in shock. The crowd was muttering in disdain when he misjudged a pull off Colin Ackermann and died, but then they all started cheering for the Dutch.
By the time they exited the stadium, the names that had been unfamiliar before the game would be more easily coming to mind. Additionally, Wolmar might have become familiar with the game that is a subcontinental preoccupation.
