A recall of the 10 days spent on the other side of the border reporting on the 1996 World Cup
Memory is an unreliable walking stick. It bends with time. And for many of us, the spring of 1996 wasn't just another time; it was another life. It was a time when the Internet was an infant, when barring the editor nobody owned a mobile phone, when articles would be faxed and costly calls made for confirmation. But as I rustle through old newspapers, now yellow and brittle, and flip through my articles, memories of those 10 days in Pakistan come alive like the clear light of day.
