When India’s Reigning World Champions Played Dallas County Cricket Club
In the sweltering summer of August 1986, something rather extraordinary transpired in Texas. No cameras, No press conferences. No screaming fans from trailing airport exists. Just a modest cricket ground stitched together on a private school campus, a few hundred folding chairs, and a gathering of local club cricketers from the Dallas County Cricket Club – waiting nervously to face a team that, by all odds, should never have been there.
Because walking out to play that day weren’t just any opponents. In fact, they were the reigning 1983 World Cub champions of India. Legends who had conquered Lord’s. Men who had just added the 1985 World Championship of Cricket trophy to their cabinet.
This unique story was brought forward through archival efforts and community interviews by the Dallas Asian American Historical Society. The cricketing significance of the match — which featured several icons of Indian cricket — was later recognized and contextualized by cricket historian Debjit Lahiri, founder of Forgotten Cricket Memories, a platform dedicated to rediscovering overlooked moments from the sport’s global history.
“To think that the very players who lifted India’s first World Cup were playing quietly on a Dallas school ground — it felt like a piece of forgotten magic just waiting to be told,” Lahiri said.
The likes of Sunil Gavaskar, Kapil Dev, Mohinder Amarnath, Ravi Shastri, Madan Lal, Dilip Vengsarkar, and Mohammad Azharuddin – names that belonged on stadium billboards and front pages – were now lacing up their boots to play against local Dallas cricketers on a field stitched together with community goodwill and Texas hospitality.
“It’s unbelievable that we had this incredible privilege,” said Arun Vittala, as he spoke to Stephanie Drenka of Dallas Asian American Historical Society.
Arun had not only captained Dallas that day but also helped organize the match. “Today, if you had to bring the Indian national team over, you’d need $20 million and months of negotiation. Back then, they just came… and they stayed with us.”
There was no corporate sponsorship, no entourage of agents of security staff. Instead, there was a man named Sankar Ramani – a beloved figure in the Dallas Indian community, a petroleum engineer and cultural patron, who helped pull strings and made the match happen.
Ramani, who would later become one of the founding members of the DFW Hindu Temple, was reportedly close friends with Kapil and Gavaskar. His quiet influence and community vision helped bridge two cricketing worlds of quite contrasting stature!
The Indian team’s accommodation? Hardly anything fancy… a Comfort Inn & Suites in Garland – recently built by a local friend – with players sharing two to a room. “It sounds almost absurd now…” Arun laughed. “But not a single one of them complained. They were curious, humble… fascinated by America. They weren’t treated like royalty, but they made everyone feel like we were hosting royalty.”
Breakfast was served in shifts at a friend’s tiny one-bedroom studio. Outings included a visit to a rooftop bar arranged by Arun’s general manager, who handed him a corporate card to treat the team. A casual banquet was organized. Photographs taken and memories sealed forever.
“It was pure love,” said Arun. “No money was involved. And if it had been… it probably never would’ve happened.”
The match itself was a 40-over affair, played at a makeshift ground built on the campus of The Hockaday School, secured after Arun approached Margaret Crow – matriarch of a well-known Dallas family. Her quick phone call to the school administration ensured DCCC had access to that ground not just for a day, but for the next 14 years.
India batted first and piled on around 250 runs, showing glimpses of their international class. The Dallas side gave their all, and while the result was never in doubt, there were moments to cherish – wickets taken, balls edged past slips, loud LBW appeals, and perhaps most importantly, friendships forged.
Arun himself picked up two prized scalps, rekindling memories of his playing days in India where he’d crossed paths with some of these very stars.
“It definitely rekindled old memories,” he said, visibly moved. “It was a true honor to represent Dallas – and to lead our side against the Indian national team.”
Over 500 people turned up to watch – a staggering number for 1980s American cricket. There were no printed tickets or food stalls. Just a raw sense of excitement, word-of-mouth buzz, and the sheer magic of proximity – the idea that kids and uncles from Texas suburbs were just a few feet away from cricketers they’d only seen in newspaper clippings mailed from relatives back home.
As the shadows lengthened and the final wickets fell, the result faded into the background. What lingered instead was the surreal nature of the day – cricket royalty playing a friendly in suburban Dallas and doing so with grace, humility, and camaraderie.
That single match didn’t make front-page news. It wasn’t televised or written about in magazines. But for those who were there, it was unforgettable. A moment when the lines between ordinary and extraordinary blurred – and cricket, just for a day, became a bridge between two worlds.
“Now it’s a pipe dream to think we could do something like this again,” Arun reflected. “But we did it once. And I hope we never forget that.”
Years later, when Arun coached a U.S. Under-19 team touring India, he decided to reach out to Anshuman Gaekwad, one of the same Indian cricketers who had visited Dallas all those years ago. The response was instant – warm, generous, and deeply moving.
Gaekwad didn’t just take the call; he welcomed the team with open arms. At 2:30 in the morning, the U.S. boys landed to a reception they could hardly believe: 15 to 20 journalists, garlands, cameras flashing, and all the warmth that Indian cricket reserves for its own.
“That’s the kind of man he is,” Arun said. “And that’s the kind of lasting bond that day in Dallas had created.”
Nearly 40 years on, as the global cricket map shifts, with American grounds having hosted a World Cup, a star studded Major League Cricket (MLC), and now preparing to welcome back cricket in the Olympics, perhaps it’s time to remember this story – a quiet, unsung prologue to what could one day become cricket’s next great frontier.
Because before the glitz, before the franchises, and before the dream of American cricket was taken seriously… Dallas already had its day in the sun.
About Debjit Lahiri
Debjit Lahiri is a cricket historian and the founder of Forgotten Cricket Memories, a non-monetized digital archive with over 75,000 followers, dedicated to preserving the rich legacy of the sport. His work has been featured in The Telegraph India, Los Angeles Cricket, and Print India, highlighting forgotten stories from cricket’s global past.
