Watching 3 a.m. cricket matches keeps me close to my dad, even when we're worlds apart

This First Person article is written by Karan Walia, who lives in Richmond, B.C. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ .

Growing up in India, I was fanatical about sports. It was something my father, brother and I bonded over. My father even turned the word "sports" into a family motto of sorts: Sincere, Polite, Obedient, Respectful, True, Social. It pretty much shaped my attitude, rubbing off in every other sphere of my life as a teenager. 

Of all the sports I played and watched, it was cricket in particular that had my heart. The game truly allowed me to live in the moment, where all I cared for in the next few seconds was the sweet sound of a bat hitting the ball.

The matches I watched with my father and later with friends occupy a large nostalgic corner of my heart. In 1999, for example, my father arranged tickets for a famous five-day test match between India and Pakistan. He would wipe the windshield of his old Maruti 800 on foggy February mornings, drive us to what was then called the Feroz Shah Kotla stadium in New Delhi early, where we would stand for three hours in a never-ending security queue before entering the stadium. But boy, was it all worth it!

Yet like every cricketer's journey from debut until retirement, I sensed every fan also has a time frame that they dedicate to the sport before also leaving it. Many desi people I know who have immigrated to Canada told me how their interest in cricket waned over the years. Their fandom morphed from watching a full eight-hour match of every bilateral series to merely keeping up with the highlights of major tournaments. 

At the age of 37, having lived in Canada for more than three years, I wondered if I was also nearing my fanboy