Scalping — It’s too costly to afford
“Do you play cricket, Bhavik?” he asked me.
I said, “Well yeah, a little, you know, but I learn new techniques every day.”
“Do you want to play with us?” he asked again.
I said, “Why not.”
That day, I scored 32 off 16 balls, a strike rate of 200, which is considered ‘Dhoni-tastic’ (you will understand if you are a cricket fan).
That was 14 years ago when I used to play hardcore cricket. I was an all-rounder; I could imitate every bowler’s action and every batsman’s style. After the game ended, people would ask me to imitate famous players’ actions, and I would happily do it. I watched all the matches; I am from India, but my fandom was not restricted to just ‘Indian’ matches. I knew all the stats by heart; I loved cricket. I still love it, I guess.
(No, no, the below photo is not me playing a cover drive)
When India lifted the World Cup in 2011, I saw it at the crossroads, with a huge screen, the city at a halt, and neighbors coming onto the road to support India. What a moment it was; my God, I remember it and I get goosebumps.
Fast forward 12 years, nothing is what it used to be. I am a grown-up in my 30s, founded a company, even sold it, in my second phase of life, and that love of cricket was gone until the news started to hit my ears, “The India vs. Pakistan match and the World Cup final both are in Ahmedabad, India.”
Guess what? Who lives in Ahmedabad? Bhavik. Really? Can I see both the matches? Can I? Are tickets available? When will they be available? Is it costly? I mean, I can still afford it; you know, I sold a company, but what are the dates?
The first phase of tickets — I kept clicking and refreshing. SOLD OUT.
The second phase of tickets — I kept clicking and refreshing on more devices. SOLD OUT.
Hopeless. Disgusted. Angry. At me? At my fate? I could see people on Twitter and Instagram posting photos of them getting the tickets. What the hell happened with me, my destiny, and my dream moment, or one of the moments which could be checked off my bucket list?
Umm, seriously, I don’t know. I moved on, just like I do with each and every hurdle and obstacle of my life; I try to find ways instead of whining about it.
Social media started to show me ‘Ind vs. Pak tickets available. DM for prices,’ and I was like, “Wohoo, yeah, I did it.” I asked the price and that guy said, “30k INR.” The original ticket price is 2k. I couldn’t believe it, and I started asking others who posted the same. I literally asked more than 50+ people, and the price kept on increasing. Seriously. Why is that amount too big for me when I have sold the company? I have money, yeah, but do I have money for this? Should I spend this much ridiculous amount for my dream match? The biggest rivalry in the world, 22 players on the ground, fighting not just with the bat and ball but with minds and conscience — oh God.
People started to buy; yes, I realized that I am not rich, or maybe not rich enough to buy the tickets. People who are not even founders of companies or haven’t created or sold any company are buying tickets for their whole family, worth 30k each? Really?
Who are they? I kept asking the same questions every day until one day, after the 6th day, I stopped trying. I gave up because I was hoping to get a dream deal in black marketing, also known as ‘Scalping,’ that someone would help me get a ticket because I am a huge fan.
No, boy, this world doesn’t work like that anymore. In simple words, the world doesn’t give a fuck about you. You pay double, quadruple, ten times, or you go fuck yourself. I didn’t buy. And honestly, the match is dated to be on October 14, and I wanted to write about it before this because, just like the world doesn’t give a fuck about me or anyone, even I would not give a fuck about my broken dream after October 14, 2023, because, as I said, I move on. I fucking move on. FAST. But will I for this?
