I was foolishly wearing shoes that I had never walked in for long before. Their sides cut into my feet as I made the loop around Gaddafi Stadium to the last gate.

The sun blazed down. Security was tight -- policemen milled around and barbed wire dotted the area. Men from different television stations called out to the spectators, asking them what chants they were going to use to bolster the spirits of the Pakistani side. They should have asked about chants for the Zimbabwean side, too.

By the time we arrived and took our seats, about half the stands were full. The match did not begin for another three hours but spectators were already blowing horns and holding placards.

Those couple of hours held a lot of firsts for me. I saw a cricket field for the first time (it was smaller than I thought it would be). I took part in an audience wave for the first time, though I had previously only admired it on TV. I also took those three hours to keep track of the sun lowering and eventually disappearing under the horizon. Killing time by experimenting with different pictures of the setting sun was actually fun!

The flashlights came on and the stands slowly filled up. The crowd wildly applauded every time any cricketer came out on the field. The recurring chants of ‘selfie’ confused me. I found out later that fans had teased Ahmed Shehzad by these chants during the first T20 too, and he had replied by actually posing for one!

After watching the training sessions and the toss, the weather got exponentially better. The stands were packed. Along with the expected Afridi posters, there was an outpouring of support for the Zimbabwean cricketers: chart papers thanking them for coming over and signs supporting their team.

I spotted a youngster with the green, gold, red and black flag painted on his face rather than the green-and-white one. A man’s voice blared from a loud speaker: he asked the crowds to take on the role of good hosts and cheer for the Zimbabwean players for coming here, and the Punjab police for providing them with security.

Hence, every time the Zimbabweans scored a boundary, horns blew all around and the crowd cheered. Placards proclaiming 4 or 6 bobbed continuously in the air during Zimbabwe’s batting innings -- even when a couple of sixes were hit successively!

The crowd was good at thank-yous. I was glad that the first game I experienced live was one that showed such a gracious side of our country.

I should have been expecting it, though. After all, we lade our guests with heaps of food and chai every time they visit our house. That day, we did not fail in bolstering the Zimbabweans with applause because they had brought cricket home.