Opening Doorz

By Moody Marty | Opening Doorz Editorial | November 04, 2025

He Made Them Believe When the World Didn’t

As India celebrates the women who conquered the world, we look back at the man who ensured they had a field to dream on. Nadim Memon, curator, mentor, warrior, worked in the shadows, long before victory was a possibility and recognition a reality.

After the Indian women’s cricket team lifted the World Cup, dozens suddenly remembered that women exist in cricket. Suddenly, social media is full. Suddenly, brands are lining up. Suddenly, everyone wants to feel like they always believed.

But I remember a different time.

When No One Was Watching

A time of empty stands, of borrowed pitches, and tired bus rides. A time when women’s cricket was not given the respect it deserved, nor discussed. A time when the cricketing establishment treated women’s cricket like some distant relative one had to tolerate but never acknowledge. It was a stepmotherly dismissal that broke more spirits than bones.

And in those years, when it was darkest, one man was standing. He had no agenda and no official patronage. He had no business interest or political mileage.

Just a lion heart, a stubborn belief that these girls deserved better. That man was Nadim Memon. Last year, as I was compiling a book for him, I came up with the title ‘Game Changer.’ And what a Game Changer he has turned out to be. He has played a pivotal role in changing the game for Indian women cricketers.

The Night He Rebuilt a Ground From Ruins

We go back now, not to stadiums full of fireworks, but to a cold, quiet midnight at the Police Ground in Mumbai. A women’s international match between India and Australia was scheduled for the next morning. But the ground had been booked the night before for a wedding reception. The event ran long, ending past midnight. When the association officials came to the ground, they stood in shock. There was garbage, stage boards, oil stains, trampled grass, confetti, and plastic plates strewn all over. It was a battlefield of celebration.

The pitch? Ruined. The outfield? Unplayable.

Shubhangi Kulkarni, then Hon. Secretary of the Women’s Cricket Association of India, remembers the panic. The match would be cancelled. It would be an embarrassment; another reminder to the world that women’s cricket did not matter.

And that night, Nadim Memon simply said: “Don’t worry. Go home. It will be ready.”

He didn’t sleep. With just a few men and more courage than logic, he worked through the night.

At 6:30 am, when Shubhangi returned, exhausted and hopeless, she stopped in her tracks. The field looked brand new. No sign of chaos. No hint of destruction. Just a cricket ground ready for battle.

And the women played. Because he believed they should. He did not do it because he belonged to an organisation. He did it out of a sense of duty. That is love.

A Curator Who Became a Protector

This was not a one-time act of kindness. This was a pattern. When the New Zealand women’s team toured India in 2003, Aurangabad had no ground ready for international cricket. No one wanted to take responsibility. No one wanted to invest.

Except Nadim. He prepared the ground against time, working day and night, so that the women could play a proper international match, for perhaps the first time in that city’s history.

No applause. No headlines. Just unseen labour, fuelled by faith, and a deep passion for the game

He didn’t stop there. When India needed a venue for a women’s Test at Vapi, Nadim found the ground, negotiated access, and ensured everything was ready. He didn’t just arrange the ground. He got them a sponsor. He even arranged for a Maruti car as the Player of the Match prize—something unheard of in women’s cricket back then.

Imagine the light in the eyes of those girls. Women who never expected anything but a handshake, realising that their effort mattered. This is what respect looks like. Not speeches. Not flags. Not slogans. But dignity.

The Road to a World Cup Was Paved in Silence

And today, as the Indian women stand champions, the world roaring their names, we must remember that the road to the World Cup was not paved yesterday. It was built across years of loneliness, humiliation, indifference, and the quiet work of those whom no commentator ever mentions.

We celebrate centuries today. We celebrate medals today. We celebrate victory today. But victory has a lineage. And in that lineage, one name remains unshakeable: Nadim Memon.

The man who made grounds when there were no grounds. The man who made calls when no one was answering calls. The man who gave women cricketers hope when the world gave them none.

As Shubhangi Kulkarni once said: “If at any time women’s cricket needs help, Nadim is the man to go to.” Not because of position. Not because of the title. But because his heart was already there.

And today, his passion still burns, not just for women, but for girls’ cricket and school cricket. The Giles and Harris Shield (the cradle where Mumbai legends are born) has undergone a complete transformation under his stewardship as School Sports Secretary (Cricket). He has ensured that young boys and girls, children who dream with starry eyes, have fields worthy of their dreams.

And maybe that is what makes a true guardian. Not someone who appears after glory, but someone who stands when glory is nowhere in sight.

He Was There Long Before the Applause

And maybe that is why the tears came so easily the night India lifted the World Cup. Not because victory was unexpected, not because the opponent was strong, not even because history was made. No, the tears came for all the years nobody was watching. For the girls who played without crowds. For the ones who kept faith when faith looked foolish. And for the man who stood behind them, silently, holding the dream in place so it would not collapse. Today, as the nation cheers, his name will not be in highlight reels or trophy speeches.

But that is alright. He never needed the world to know his name. He only wanted the girls to play with dignity.

So today, when we wave flags, let us pause. When we shout in celebration, let us pause. When we quote statistics, let us pause. When we share videos of that final wicket, let us pause. Let us remember the man who believed before believing was fashionable.

Let history not forget its quiet architect, Nadim Memon, who did not ask to be remembered. But how can we ever forget?

[Moody Marty: Sometimes funny, sometimes informative, always downright forthright!]

Also Read: At the Stroke of the Midnight Hour, Our Women Became World Champions!

Also Read: Amol Muzumdar: Guiding a Nation’s Daughters