The trick, of course, was to get the cricketers together. And an Outlook reporter, for reasons obvious, hardly inspires trust and confidence in the present cricketing fraternity. You could read in the silences and looks of the Indian players when confronted with this proposition, what new rascality is this guy planning? What new skullduggery could we unwittingly get into if we do what this scumbag asks? In the end just two Indians said yes. Jadeja and Robin. Others backed out because they had cousins coming over, had to pack, etc. On the Pakistani side a whole bunch said yes. The idea was too whacky to refuse. It was far easier to enthuse them. It would also take just an hour or two. And it wasn't that Afridi, Anwar, Moin, Saqlain, Inzimam didn't know who I was. They only knew me too well as the guy who was digging all kinds of uncomfortable things about their teammates. Though in the end Anwar backed out because of fever and others slimed out because they didn't rhyme well with the idea of getting out of the hotel bed before nine, what impressed me was the instant familiarity I could breed with them in spite of having, in their eyes, somewhat dubious credentials.