"i've got a bad feeling about this..."

There's a lot of Australia bashing and debate going on. Are they past it? Is this the end of an era? Are they a (relatively) spent force? Is their finally proximity between them and the rest of the pack?

Its a bit early for me to be able to answer in the affirmative to any of these. I am wary of writing them off-nay, even belittling them- for they have shown that they are champions in more ways than one. Yet, one cannot elude the feeling that they have lost a bit of their edge- depleted team, injuries and exhaustion notwithstanding. Losing 6 from 7, and the manner of some of these losses, is just very...un-Australian.

Simon Barnes lays into the (erstwhile?) champion team a bit, and justifies gloating very persuasively. He goes a bit jedi in this bit, which admittedly sounds rather right:

The luck has deserted Australia along with the confidence and sureness of touch. It always does when a side starts to lose. One crucial injury has followed another: that’s the way things happen with losers. When the force is with you, an injury seems to become a positive advantage, forcing a new and brilliant player into the front line. Australian are at present a team deserted by the force.

I do believe one must refrain from getting carried away with all this bashing/rejoicing/moping (depending on your perspective), for this team is most dangerous when faced with the need to recover. The lack of recovery time and the spate of injuries is sure to hamper that bounce-back-ability, but only their results in the World Cup will show us where the future lies. Just when I started to think that Mr Barnes might be a tad overdone,

Is this a terminal decline for Australia? Or is it merely a brief moment of regrouping? Who can tell? The one certainty is that the great Australia cricket dynasty reached some kind of punctuation point at the end of the Ashes series, and right now it looks more like a full stop than a comma.

Perfect.

Anything less than a slot in the World Cup final will, as I see it, be taken as a confirmation that the flow of world cricket (at least in ODIs) has taken a turn. Until that time, which is a substantial ten weeks away, lets wait.

the past

Reading about cricket seems always to be just round the corner for me. It is not for lack of interest, for I still think of myself as a cricket…well fan. Of the game, then of a team and players. Yet, I would also instinctively not call myself a cricketing illiterate by any stretch, though a fountain of information on it would be a bit much too.
I suppose, if one’s fingers are in pies (such as this blog) that are directly connected to cricket, it also makes sense for one to keep up to date with not only the present but some measure of the past.

How relevant this is for someone who skills lie on the field of play, is quite another thing. We can’t seriously expect a cricketer to be well versed with history, or at least not believe that it is required of him. I must say I was a bit staggered as well with Sehwag’s response. I even ventured to believe that “"No. I don't know anything about them. I haven't heard about them”, could merely mean he wasn’t thinking about Roy and Mankad vis-a vis the partnership he was involved in, but who am I kidding. Harsha Bhogle, for one, believes being scandalised loses out to pragmatism.

I suppose the fact that a leading cricketer is not even aware of a couple of the early heroes of the game in his country could be construed as shameless disregard for heritage. From an Aussie player, for one, I would be truly shocked to see such ignorance. In India though. I think a player’s background plays a huge role. We would expect a Dravid to be well versed with his cricket history- he is, for sure, inspired by it. But a typical Indian team is made up of such a motley bunch- the cultural background, the education, they way they are brought up… all point to unpredictable off-the field profiles of Indian cricketers.

Atherton’s absorbing piece on not bunking history draws this out:

It won't make him a better player, but it gives him a link with both the past and the future; it provides some context and some meaning, so that, long after the bones have stiffened and the eyes have gone, it still matters. He is simply one link in the chain.

I think another part of his piece mixes up the issue though. The tradition of a player number being stitched on to shirts and caps might not be widespread in the cricketing world, but is one that mostly draws approving nods. A sense of history, is what we say it provides. In saying the very England players who displayed a scant knowledge of their cricketing history are the ones who instigated this tradition, he figures that:

By instigating such a custom, today's players show a surreptitious interest in what went before them and, by inference, what will come after them.

For me, this is different from learning about your cricketing past to give context to your present. A player number is just that. It probably gives a sense of existence; a feeling that you are part of a honour-roll of a select few that have represented the country; more a sense of self than an awareness of context; you are a link in the chain, but with an identity.

But that’s just me. If you ask Sehwag about 239, he’ll probably just say it’s a low score for him.

> Vaneisa Baksh, to finish off her longish piece inspired by Lagaan, points young people in the game toward cricket literature. (hat tip: ryan)

Of inevitability and power

Sometime in the near future, you can expect to see a stodgy but articulate chap standing on one leg, hands firmly grasped around a mouldy pillar, its base creaking in crumbling mud. That chap would be ol’ Athers, and the pillar he’ll be so dearly clinging onto will be an illusion borne of an archaic impression of the world order.

At best sharp, precise and handy with his laptop; at worst Michael Atherton has shown glimpses of a perspective still mired in a word I myself am loathe to use- a colonial attitude. If he has his way, we will all be standing with him in that very quagmire. Except, as he himself points out, a lot of the people in the cricketing world are not from that order, and do not believe- indeed, have no reason to- in the need for a continuance of status quo.
It seems pretty obvious to most but the likes of him, that there is no justification for the home seasons, or itineraries, of England and Australia to be sacrosanct, and those of the others pliable accordingly. Nor is there any reason for those with the financial clout to let those without it run the game as they wish.

Yet, for me, this is not about Michael Atherton, nor his diatribe against the BCCI, nor his new-found passion for the ICC. At the end of it all, it calls for little surprise, that the one member that effectively funds this sport, is the one who will call most of the shots. It may not be the best setup, but it is the most inevitable in a sport that is as much about bat and ball as about banks and balance sheets. Romanticism about a sport that uplifts and impassions first and earns people money later, is exactly that- a rose-tinted view that I would be the first to enjoy, but one none of us can realistically expect the world to live by.

What pinches in all of this- in fact, has pinched since well before the doughty former England opener stirred up sub continental indignation- is the way the inevitability of today’s cricket world seems to panning out. The alacrity with which the new BCCI regime has fast-tracked it’s new ideas smacks less of the desire to right any perceived wrongs, and more of a frenzied wish to rake in as much as they can while the cherry is still red. Worse, it reeks of a selfishness that is, if not unexpected, particularly distasteful in its intensity. It would have made sense- for themselves more than anyone else- if the BCCI had, for once, delved into their musty tact-store and used some of that precious commodity. With their obvious economic strength in the game comes the requirement for grounded feet and, dare I say, even some good-heartedness. That they project neither is a sad, disheartening and unnerving truth.
Perhaps they missed out on the Spiderman phenomenon, or they might have listened to old Uncle Parker’s advice. You know- that bit about great power and responsibility…

Meanwhile, Athers would do well to cling on not to that pillar of cricket he is rooting for, but rather to the lip-smacking prospect of new traditions being created, and co-existing with the old ones.

Sub-super thoughts

Ok, so I thought the Super Sub rules meant something else. Up until the first one-day, I thought I was clear on the experiment, and believed it meant that a team announces a squad of twelve and then announces its playing eleven once the toss is done.
Of course, this is not the case. A team announces a playing XI, and a Super Sub. The captain then proceeds to the toss and hopes his selection works.

Somehow, I have believed that my misunderstanding of the rule is probably a better way of implementing this innovation. The team announces a squad of twelve and then pulls one guy out after they know if they are batting or bowling. It more or less ensures that a team will use the super sub, thus encouraging whatever spectator interest and ‘increased quality’ that was envisaged to begin with. It effectively means that the team will pick (usually) an additional specialist, depending on their strengths and weaknesses, and so have a stronger overall side.

Sure, it means there is less of a gamble. For those of us who believed that this rule eliminated the charm of the risk that team selection was (with XI players only), I suppose this gamble that a team is required to take works. My instinctive reaction, however, is that the purpose of the Subs, one would think, is to not only increase strategy and excitement, but increase the quality of cricket being played. Allowing the XI to be named after the toss increases the chances of this enhanced quality.

I have to admit I am a little torn here.
My problem with the current implementation is that it is too much of a gamble, and one that is not really necessary. If we are corrupting the old way of committing to eleven players, then we should corrupt it enough. This will probably encourage the bits and pieces players who can come in either way (or, of course, genuine all-rounders who are rare in the game already; if the allrounder is truly world class he will probably be in the eleven anyway) The good thing is that there is at least some lottery element retained, though the success of (of a specialist as substitute) is more dependent on chance than strategic selection.

My only problem with the other way is that there is no gambling at all. It will, however, let us see more specialists at work, and the good thing is that we are likely to see a team with a better chance of defending a total, or chasing it. In all, it will allow for a more rounded team performance- exploiting conditions, and resources, to the fullest.

The India Room, and Sachin

So The Oval is going to have a new stand with an 'India Room' ( to be inagurated by Sachin). Interesting.

It will seat about 160 people, but 160 very rich people I am sure ("well heeled expats" as the report offers). I am interested as to what memorabilia they are going to have there, and what are the technicalities of the 'India Room'- will it accommodate only Indians? (Maybe Will would know)

If you have gone and read the above Telegraph report , you would have read this about Sachin Tendulkar:

Speaking from his Mumbai residence on Wednesday evening, he added: “I realise a role awaits me both at Lord’s and The Oval, but I would have gone even if I had nothing to do. It’s about supporting a cause.” Of course.

Can someone please explain to me what this 'of course' means? Is it, unbelievably, a dig at Sachin? If it is, it's ridiculous, and if it not, it is redundant in the context.

And talking of pointlessness, what is the need for this, in the footnote of the same report:

Sachin hasn’t exactly been following international cricket for the past few weeks, but is aware that Brian Lara is fast catching up. The West Indian had 26 Test hundreds when Sachin got the world record-equalling 34th last December. Since then, Lara has added four to be only four adrift…

The 'hasn't exactly been following...but is aware' (er, well, what do you think?), and the '...' at the end, trying to create a sense of competition...ooohh, I'm all excited now.

Pointless...

...and, awake (on Lara)

Continuing from my previous post, which was a beginning to these thoughts:
Brian Lara’s batting has been sheer magic. It does not seem to matter that the team is crumbling around him (less so, of course, in the Pakistan series), or that age is rapidly demanding some respect. With a typical flash of the blade as his only salutation, Lara is asking age and all other constraints to kindly take a walk, and let him do his what he does best (score boundaries and hundreds).

I find the Fourth Umpire has this to say about Lara’s recent performances:

...what's really startling about this phase of the Brian Lara story is his incredible, almost Bradman-esque consistency. To rack up 3246 runs at 70.57; to score 12 centuries and nine 50s in 27 Tests -- it's an incredible, and incredibly long, run of consistent success.What makes it even more remarkable is the fact that Lara has bucked the trend, and scored these runs as part of a team that has consistently lost almost everything it has played during this period-- how easy can it have been to go out there, innings after innings, and perform in the company of mediocrity.

The question to be asked here is this- the man is now 36 years old. That’s not exactly the prime, even for a bastman (though that was not exactly a question either, but a statement); and while I am not asking for him to suffer a terrible slump and fade away ignominiously, it would be a tad more normal for him just play, well normally. Instead, he is batting like a man possessed, a man who knows that time, despite his overflowing talent, is running short; a man who either has (yet again?) a point to prove, or a man who has no points anymore, only accomplishments. So what’s the secret of his sudden burst of performance?

Secondly, is this despite the team’s mediocrity or because of it? Is he inspired to salvage some pride for his team, or is he scoring by not caring about the burden of team failure that is constantly on him? Is he, in fact, as is being talked about,(and claimed by the likes of Ridley Jacobs and only bothered about his own achievements, now that it seems to late/ too pointless to try and resurrect his team?

Lastly, where would such a discussion/thought process leave Sachin? Most Sachin supporters (and even those who don’t like him too much) have at some point or the other understood that he performed, through the first half- and more-of his career, despite his team. He has always had to shoulder the burden of lifting India from inconsistency and mediocrity. Whether he has done so or not (which is the cause for much debate, needless to say) is not the point here. What is, is how Lara’s recent (ageing) upward trend compares to Sachin’s recent dull phase. ( I say dull because statistically his consistency is still pretty darned good. Except we all know that some spark is missing-if only seen occasionally), and that he too needs a serious shoot upwards in form and performance to finish (ouch!) his career on a high that goes along with his 1989 talent.

As you can see (if you have go this far) this post is pretty unstructured and random. My idea is not to make a statement. I would like to throw up this question, though, and hopefully the teeming masses who read this blog (ahem) might have some answers or views.

Thank You

Thank you, for bringing to a hitherto constantly controversial job, honesty and integrity. For ensuring that throughout your tenure your motives nor your commitment could be questioned.

Thank you for working tirelessly and conscientously, trying to transform a team of chronic under achievers. For alleviating the pain and, to an extent, controlling the malaise.

Thank you for being supportive of your wards and still supporting their nation. For emoting despite being reserved, and starting to know what the Indian fan goes through.

Thank you for your calm, your quiet drive , your almost paternal disposition. Thank you for helping take this team to the next level, and letting it know it has a long way to go yet.

(And, Mr Wright, sorry for bidding you farewell on such a flat, uninspiring note. )

The inevitabiliy of shame

I feel cynical.
It was instinctively and helplessly that I made certain observations way back in September about the Indian tour to Pakistan (for I had been to Lahore myself), and expressed my concern over our ability to reciprocate what we received there.
I was not ever in the thick of things, nor was I where it mattered-India- to judge to what extent we showered our warmth on the visiting Pakistanis- team and fans. But from whatever I can see, hear and read, my fears were not unfounded.

I cringed when I heard the commentators talking about the bottles in Jamshedpur. And Delhi, yesetrday, was hopelessly putting off. This is the capital of the country, the seat of its political power, the location for a hotly cricket-vist by Pakistan's leader and the venue for the last ODI. Yet who seemed to care that irrespective of the last few weeks, a memorable last day could leave not justa good taste in the mouth but warmth in our hearts, and theirs.
"Oh, what sentimental bullshit," they would have said to this. Cheer, hospitality, sportsmanship,...warmth? Bah!
Let us sit silently as their batsmen play scintillating shots, moan dejectedly when bowlers take our prized wickets, throw bottles in a graceful trajectory towards their fielders.

While I have spoken often about offending grounds being banned from international cricket matches for a period of time, this goes beyond that anger. It is something that leaves me dejected, despairing and hopelessly frustrated. In fact, this post seems so pointless now- mere words, serving no more than to patchily express my disgust at my own countrymen.
Pakistan have come and Pakistan have gone, and I can only cherish my Lahore experiences even more.

thoughts @:
IndiaUncut

A question of perspective

Yesterday I heard and read something, from two people both in the business of informing sports followers about sports- in this case cricket. One was at a point when India was still in with a good shot at saving the Test, and the other when defeat loomed rather more ominously.
Both opinions were about Sachin Tendulkar’s batting on the final day of the Test. With India more or less giving up any ideas of the eminently improbable victory, he walked in with both openers back in the hut, and Dravid soon followed. Of course he could have chosen to play his so called natural game and go for his shots, or he could choose to be circumspect. Either way, he would attract flak, the way things are these days. But that is my two=pie bit, and not what I set to say here.

Wat I was saying was this:
One media person used these phrases in his description of Sachin's innings:
"...Tendulkar batted magisterially..."
"...majestic poses in defence..."
and, in an earlier bulletin

“If ever there was a case of a batsman being in complete control without scoring, this was it”, or something pretty close to that.

Not much later, another media person, also in the business of bringing sports to the masses, said this:
“Sachin? He just plodded on, and he looked completely at sea, couldn’t play any shots”

Different perspectives enriching an opinion... or coloring it?

A new experience

And here it is. The first time I am following an Indian series from overseas. Its not too bad right now, come to think of it- I guess cause I have a feed of DD Sports running in the office!
What I have missed till now is the build up, the hype, the tension, the tons of media discussion that would happen had I been back in India. But, it would seem, I am not missing too much on that front.

I find it surprising that there is less hype around this series. Naturally, once last year's tour had been built up the way it had, it was always going to be difficult to call this, say, a a Friendship tour and expect the same effect.
I wonder what sort of time the Pakistani fans are having of it, across the border in India. It is something I have thought about often, and I would really like to know what the scene is like out there.
It has been different, moving abroad. In some ways I follow cricket the same way I did back home. It is the small things that I realise I am missin gout on. I still have the absolutely great resources of Cricinfo to check out, but it is odd not waking up to the SportsPage. But, today feels good. there is a buzz around the Indians in office, and though there are TVs all over, I cant wait for the one above my desk to finally be plugged in!

The Heart in Mouth Affliction- a seduction

Since I can remember watching the man bat, he had the genius like knack of batting exactly the way he wished, the uncanny ability to pick gaps and shots and the unwitting penchant of causing not a few minor heart attacks. I spent countless days watching with bated breath and crossed fingers while Sachin Tendulkar batted. He drove, pulled, slashed and heaved 80 percent of the deliveries he faced. It was batting with little fear, the desire to dominate and the seeming disdain of risk. It was, naturally, edge of the seat stuff. Except if you were an Indian fan (or me-a crazy fan) there was the perpetual chance that you would actually fall off your seat, and notice your bruises only once you had recovered from the dejection of the great man’s dismissal- which would be sometime the next day.

Watching Sachin bat then was the curious and exhilarating mix of not being able to pull your eyes away and not wanting to watch, at the same time. His batting lived on the edge, and many a heartbeat would skip as the precarious balance was maintained, just about. This was the brilliance of the man, and coupled with his statistical consistency, it was what made him a great in my eyes. In fact, a hero.

Yet, before this sounds like he has retired, let me say that he is no less a hero to me today. Sachin has changed his batting style over the last few years, and the difference has been spoken about, written about, thought about and debated upon endlessly. I don’t want to go into the philosophy behind his change here (or what I think is his thinking), but I am quite sure it has not been the decline in ability. Couple this change in approach with the increased ability of the Indian batting lineup, and you had a situation where you thought you missed the all out attacking style, not so much.

At Mumbai’s second innings and briefly in Kolkata against Pakistan, SRT showed flashes of the past. There were fleeting glimpses of the desire to dominate, to not just make runs but make dents on the opposition psyche. That both efforts were relatively short lived is another case altogether. Yet, both innings showed an intent that had been missing for some time now. The conservative approach was replaced by an aggression in the mind that brought back long lost doses of shut-eye excitement, goose bumps and anxiety.

It brought back memories of the ailment every SRT fan, every Indian had to helplessly enjoy/suffer every time the little fellow was at the crease. As I watched the determination with which he strode around the crease on Saturday, subtle but certain symptoms of the said weakness showed themselves. I had almost let slip how nerve racking it was. And consequently, the fall was harder when he was run out, trying to get the strike again. But briefly, I had been allowed to flirt with the Heart in Mouth Affliction again, and now I can’t wait for more.
You think I will get some more?

thank you, work

work consumes
time flits by
and I thank it
for it has lessened the pain
that is brought on
by unwanted surrender.
more words
and tears
and sighs
more
when I have more
time.

That Walking Thing, again

It seems there is till much discussion about this walking trend. My earlier post on this would make it clear that I basically support the whole idea.

Yet there seem to be many issues that people pick with this way of thinking. Indeed, it is questioned if it is a way of thinking, or just convenient PR.

First off, there is the fundamental question- why do you need to walk? The game is fairly simple in the way it is drawn out- there is a bowler with 10 fielders to help him in his task of getting one of two batsmen out. An umpire out in the middle makes all the decisions. In keeping with the simplicity of this setup, there is no reason, really, for the batsman to add the unnecessary complication of 'walking'.
Alright, the umpire's job is to decide if a chap is out or not, and his decision being final, there is no requirement to put the onus on batsmen. Till here, I can completely agree. There is no necessity for a batsman to walk. Yet, I cannot see the problem in a batsman choosing to walk. His personal choice does not in any way complicate the game or compromise the current setup. It is just that, his personal choice.

There is, of course, the plainly absurd suggestion that a batsman 'walking' on his own is undermining the umpire's authority out in the middle, and this action is even tantamount to (a new form of) dissent. In a word, this is ridiculous. If a player chooses to accept he was beaten by the bowler, that is his choice. It is hardly an insult to the umpire, and definitely not embarassing for him. If we are constantly being told that the 'human element' that the umpires bring in to the game is vital, where is the shame in being shown by a batsman himself, that you were about to make a wrong decision? Where is the shame in knowing that the right decision was made, even if not by you?
As ol' Shepp puts it, "Nonsense. The game is bigger than the umpires"

Then there is the question of motive. What is the thinking behind 'walking'? It is obvious that the trend stems from a desire for fairplay- it is in the correct spirit of not only cricket, but of any sport. While it has become common, indeed the norm, in all sport for players to leave the decision to a referee or umpire, even when they are in a position to take the call, how can the exception to this (very convenient) reality be questioned? Let us be practical and not condemn a batsman for not walking when he has, say, evidently nicked a ball. But let us also freely commend a batsman who, in the same situation, decides to leave the field of play. Let us believe he does this because he chooses to heed his conscience, and not for some ulterior motive.

The hemispheric distinction that used to exist between Australian and English batsmen who stayed and walked, respectively, brought its own inferences. Australians never walked, Englishmen sometimes did, and were often accused of of selective walking and ulterior motives. Today you have a self proclaimed non-walking Englishman suggesting that this new un-Australian Australian trend could end in tears ("Australians Fail to see the Shame in Walking").
Atherton (the said Englishman) says the game would be a "self governing idyll" if everyone were to adopt such an honest approach. Of course this will not happen. As he asserts that, he says that it is acceptable for a batsman to not walk, and to leave the decision making to the umpire.
"I was a confirmed non-walker and could easily live with the fact that I was asking an umpire to perform a job he is paid to do. I didn't, and still don't, regard that as cheating."

I don't think anyone regards that as cheating. It would be like expecting a footballer to graciously point to the penalty spot as soon as he even slightly touched the ball. Yet, it still does not take away from the inherent merit in being honest. It is easy, from here, to question the motives, again. Will honesty in obvious situations eventually build your reputation enough for you to get the benefit of the doubt when everything is not as obvious? I can see the logic in bringing this up, but not the sense. For me it is a simple case of double thinking. There is no end to this line of thought- nothing is what it seems, everything has a hidden agenda.

There is another point. If your consicence is powerful enough to make you walk, how do you explain appealing for catches that weren't nicked or edged LBWs? For me, that's another case of just pushing it.
"(the cases when Sehwag, Patel and Irfan were wrongly given out)...raises the question of why the players in front of the wicket appealed and why they didn't then ask the captain to recall the opener. How far are they prepared to go?"
For one, on-field play and batting are different in one significant way- a batsman choosing to walk is an individual choice, not to be imposed as a team dictat. On field, there are three, four, sometimes more players appealing for a wicket. Eventually the umpire is in the 'best position' to judge, better than most players are. It is, like Athertons' choice not to walk, definitely not required for one of the players who may think that the batsman was not out, to tell the rest that he does, and be sure enough to make the captain call the batsman back! That too, is defnitely not cheating.

For another, I believe that technology makes it so much easier for us to decide what is obvious. On the field, there are too many factors in play. Just like (even)close-in fielders may believe there is a nick when there isn't, a batsman sometimes honestly does not know when a bat pad has taken his bat, or just his pad. It works both ways, and to expect not only physical traits like sharp sight and hearing to be impeccable on the field, but also honesty, is really a bit much.

The last case is the most pertinent. Will these new proponents of fairplay be as principled when the situation is really tight? Now that's one truly worth wondering, and waiting to find out. To my mind, the possibility that these very batsmen may, one day, not walk when it is obvious they are out, should not sully in anyway their choice to do so, today. The only thing bigger than a World Cup semi-final is the Final, and it is cruel to today to say that Gilichrist's nick was big enough that he thought it was sure to be given out. Either way, he did not do the 'done' thing- sticking on to see the umpire's decision. In Kasprowicz's case as well, in the Chennai Test, it was very evident that the umpire was not giving him out. Yet he walked.

The other defense for not walking is that umpiring decisions tend to even out over the years.
Whether there is merit in that or not, it is another belief that cannot be held against those who walk. In cricket, like in life itself (how often do we hear that), things tend to balance out- or, that is what we would like to believe. That does not in any way, absolve us of our responsibility to live upto certain ideals. At any rate, if you don't believe in certain principles, at least respect another's choice to live by them.

To probe and prod into the actions and decisions betrays one's own cynicism. It is a measure of our skepticism that we cannot accept that some things may be done just for their own sake. The basis of fairplay is belief in the inherent goodness of human beings, and the desire to perpetuate that belief. While it may be too sweetly sweeping a generality to be anything more than a fairy-tale, it is a sign of our own doubt in human behaviour to not acknowledge fairness for itself. It is almost as if the fact that fairplay is rare, is held against it!

Some things are done because they are not only just, but also fair, and because they are good.
Why do we insist on questioning them?

* * *

Shame in walking // Holier than thou // To walk or not (rediff)//
To walk or not to walk (smh) // Walking fad // Gilchrist leads // Dissent?

Thoughts on dada

We have the right, and all the ease in the world, to criticise the players and the choices that are made regarding team composition, strategy and performance. We can be candid, opinionated and not worry, for we have nothing to lose. There is one man, though, who is involved in all of these who probably has the most to lose.

Saurav Ganguly has been an inspirational leader, result-forcing cricketer and quite often, a winning captain. Along with his team, his every move is subject to public opinion, condemnation, analysis and general gyaan. His decisions and choices can make him the most loved man in the country for a day or the most villified. There are vicious calls for his head, in the face of (one) Bangalore debacle. The achievments since 2002 can so easily be forgotten. He is one who will always be looking over his shoulder. Or at least, will see many knives if he bothers to look over his shoulder.

How often in the past has it happened that we have (selectorially) resorted to new ideas mid way through series and tours, as stricken moves during bad performances. But therein lies one of Ganguly's greatest (if not the greatest) strengths as a leader. All his actions, strategies and decisions are borne out of a deep sense of belief. He develops faith in players and team combinations, and that Faith has its root deep in his belief system. It is this very faith that often leads to what seems like (and maybe sometimes has been) inflexibility. Yet it is this very faith that has made his boys rally around him and give him their best shot.

Sauravda could easily have been another captain who threw up his hands (or let the media do it for him) about the lack of specialist openers, consistent new ball bowlers and other pitfalls. Instead he chooses to work with the options and those he believes are the best available. He chooses to place his faith in the options he chooses, and chooses to back them. It is this fundamental leadership quality that has allowed him to bind this team together like no other in the recent past.
And it is this faith and belief that has seen Yuvraj still in the playing XI, and still with a chance, with new opprtunities. The same for Zaheer Khan. In making these choices, Ganguly is putting his own thinking on the line. He is not taking the easy way out, panicking and making changes that will not reflect badly on him- whose failure will not be his responsibility. But with the choices he has always made, he has been ready to put his own head on the block. If Yuvraj fails again, it will be viewed not only as a waste of his talent, but also a failure on his captain's part.

But this captain is ready to take these chances, he is ready to stand behind his players, and he believes they will justify his faith in them
The only problem in this lies in the ease with which he can be made to look silly. It remains to be seen if the people involved in the decisions can make him look good, again. Make his passionate otulook-derived from faith- look also, like insightful acumen.

This has been a tad scratchy and hurriedly jotted down, but it is also 1.30 in the morning.

1:55am- Sambit Bal makes a very nice point about Ganguly and the BCCI. He is especially right about how you can fault Ganguly for many things, but not for the worst thing you could pick.

The walking thing

So there was considerable surprise, consternation, applause and disowning of the widespread 'walking' the Aussies indulged in today. I said recently that Gilchrist was one of my favourite cricketers and his choice to 'walk' was definitely one aspect that I admired, especially being in an Australian team. What is surprising is to see it being (is it?) adopted as some sort of team policy.

If the thinking is that Australia need to be world leaders not just world beaters, it is to be commended. I doubt, though, that Gilchrist and others who think like him can impose it on the batsmen. It eventually boils down to personal choice, and you can't really hold it against a player who decides not to walk. Hang on, I am all for it, but the way it has been far and away the exception rather than the rule, I believe you cannot condemn a batsman who decides to walk only once he sees the finger. Yet, I definitely believe you cannot express bafflement at someone who does. The basis of 'walking' is , without any doubt, sportsmanship. To look for other reasons for it or gains to be had from it is ridiculous.

Slater and Dean Jones were both unsure if they liked all this newfangled Australian spirit. Deano, for one, wanted to know what the batsman gout out it. It would not help him in any way in any forthcoming innings, so what was the point. It is not really being done for any ulterior motives.

I think all those who practise it should be unequivocally patted on the back for bringing the game into repute. It is a good feeling to see the hardest fighter walk away in a tough situation merely because he believes he ought to. It definitely does not detract from a player's fighting qualities or passion for his team. It only showcases his passion for fairplay, and I can't see how anyone can put him down for it, or question his actions' merits.

And to extend the thinking (for Deano and his ilk), a player who regulary and reliably walks when he knows he is out could, in time, create enough of a reputation for an umpire to think twice before giving him out if he is not walking....no? How's that for tangibles?

update: So at night I find I am not theonly one who notices all this this much. Here's some more musings on this..the second one I find a tad silly, the first spot on:
Gilchrist leads // Dissent?

Fickle

The adjective long associated with Indian cricket has been fickle. The batsmen are fickle with their form, the bowlers with their skill/ fitness as the case may be, the selectors with their picks, the Board with its commitment, the fans with their support...the list has always been endless.

With substantial respect all around (and none whatsoever for my own non-journalistic roots) I would suggest that often, Indian journalists too are fickle. The media in general here is victim to what ails many aspects of the game in India- the need for everything to be frontpage-worthy or sensational or controversial, or a bit of all. Hindsight is a gift to be used but sparingly- and while that seems to be often ignored, often so is foresight, it would seem.

And while I am going to focus in particular on a couple of things I read as India was on the brink of a massive defeat, it is the overall treatment of our batting failure, and the team in general, that prompts this piece. At the best of times, the Indian team has been a slow starter. We are not known for hitting the ground running. Mumbai 2001, SA 2003, Brisbane, it is more often the norm than the exception. I do believe that the media plays, in its many roles, one of keeping up team morale. Maybe not a role it takes on gladly or consciously, but it affects this area nevertheless. Skewed pessimism, as far as I can tell, hardly serves any purpose.

There are a hundred theories that can be put forth for India's dismal batting (and loss) in Bangalore, a performace well below expectations....-that the expectations were founded on what was almost a fluke, is hardly the most credible.
This is what seems to be the line of thought in this article in the TOI on Sunday:
"It is almost impossible for all of them to regain that sublime touch and bat like kings; maybe it's time to stop living in that dream and come back to reality".
BVK is referring here to the successes in Australia and Pakistan recently.

He goes on to make some valid points about how Indian cricketers (must) learn to live on the edge, for they are loved one day and despised the next. How that is probably a reflection of the way we are as a people. But then he continues, much less charitably,
"The cricketers, however, play a significant role in this paradox. They look at the adulation and feel that they have conquered the world; they look at their own advertisements on television and think that they are infallible. Instead of trying to get better, they start believing that they are Gods; instead of getting closer and nicer to the fans, they treat them like dirt and unavoidable evils.
It’s just a matter of time after that to fall. "

Where does all this come from? The cricketers who, he claims, now believe they are infallible after watching TV testimonials of their fame, are the same ones who performed all the feats in the last 12-18 months. They are also the same (Ganguly, Sehwag, Dravid, Sachin, Laxman) who were superstars well before their glorious run in the recent past. By Australia, and subsequently Pakistan, these cricketers had been superstars for more than a little while. They had seen themselves plastered across billboards and TV screens for months already- even years. The only one who has rocketed to superstardom in the past few months is Irfan Pathan, and he, probably, accounted for himself more than any other in this first test.

It is the same line of thinking that drove protesters to Dravid and Kaif's houses earlier in 2003. The World Cup had begun to look like a debacle just as it had started, and the slew of TV ads featuring cricketers p***sed people off no end. The ads were soon forgotten when we began a famous run that was to take us to the Finals.

Then there was this from Ayaz Memon whose was more a call for passion than a condemnation of talent:
"Obviously the players have not lost their skills overnight. That defies the logic of sports. But it does appear that after the successful tours of Australia and Pakistan last season, they believed that everything that had to be achieved, has been, which has led to complacency and a devil-may-care disregard for national pride and public opinion.

In other disciplines, players have been sacked for less. In cricket, which offers vast financial rewards and great glory, there will always be the demand for more. That comes with the turf, and those who are unfit to meet those demands will have to willy-nilly vacate the coveted space they occupy in Indian society. "

It is easy for us to attribute lack of performance to "a devil-may-care disregard for national pride", but it is also presumptous. If national pride and desire were enough, cricket successes would be a different story altogether. To me, lack of batting form suggest many things, but it does not indicate lack of pride- from the very same people who created history for their country recently.

I am not for picking a bone with either of these two gentlemen, both of whose writings I have often hearitly agreed with, and also liked. In fact, that is what surprises me when explanations are sought in the most non cricketing of reasons, steeped in what almost seems like unmitigated pessismism.

This is the beginning of the series. I would much rather we took our time to pronounce such harsh judgement on commitment, talent and the making of glorious dreams that were, not so long ago, reality.

Happy Days are over again-Bobbili Kumar // Commitment, passion,accountability-Memon

Pakistan cometh

So Pakistan's tour looks extremely likely to take place. Come February 2005, and our new-found buddies will pop across the border- from what should be a tough trip Down Under for them. Much like the prelude to our tour to Pakistan earlier this year. It's great that they'll play here, but I wonder.

I wonder if we will be able to extend to them the same (virtually) unabashed hospitality that they did to us. In March-April 2004, there was nothing but warmth about anything the Pakistanis did, said and (well, for that matter-played!). The cricket face of it was evident enough, with the players' welcomes and security. But stories abound of how the average Pakistani on the street, taxi, restaurant and stadium made a Herculean effort at making the visiting Indians feel comfortable. And we did.

As one of those thousands that went across for the matches, I was constantly struck by how friendly everyone, including strangers, behaved. Most significantly, in the stadium. I was at Lahore for the last two ODIs-both of which, amazingly for me, we won. In Match#4 I was in the Imran Khan enclosure that had at least a 50-50 balance between the Indian and Pakistani fans. If anything, the Pakistanis were probably a little outnumbered. In the final match, I was diametrically opposite, in the Raja Enclosure. The crowd here was a bit different. There was, at best, 20% that was Indian, the rest was a sea of green t-shirts, salwars and paint. I was watching it with one Pakistani friend who I had made all but two days ago. I did stop, for moments in the match, to just notice this. Notice that I was in Pakistan, in Lahore, in Gadaffi stadium, a lonely blue in the midst of overpowering green. Yet, not once did I feel odd. Not once was I intimidated by 'old-enemy' supporters surrounding me. Not once did I wonder if it was ok to jump out of my seat, cheer, and cheer loudly.
I did wonder if we could provide the same atmosphere back home. Instinctively, I doubted it. Now, months later, the doubt returns. I cannot say I am an authority on Indian crowds by any means; I have watched matches at but 2 venues in the country. But I have rarely seen a crowd in India that is sporting to the extent of being exemplary. My impression is that we are a loud, mildy aggressive but overpowering bunch (as fans) whose confidence grows exponentially with numbers, and whose mood deteriorates as quickly in the face of defeat. We don't have to create in ourselves good behaviour, for I believe we are generally speaking capable of that. We do have to create the ability to rise a little. Rise beyond the age old rivalry that will play itself out in front of us, and enjoy watching the match with them.

Oh, another memory. I found myself defending Shoaib to many Pakistanis, who thought he was a hyperbolic showman not capable of doing much! I thought it was a tad crazy- an Indian In Gadaffi Stadium explaining why he thinks Shoaib Akhtar is an important part of the team...to a Pakistan cricket fan! I thought it was bizarre, but I enjoyed its implications. I enjoyed that I could do it, and I hope I can do it again.

I don't believe we are rude, inconsiderate or generally rowdy. What I do doubt is if we can not only maintain our composure, but enhance it. If we can clap when a Pakistani plays a good stroke, smile genially at a green shirt when there is eye contact, smile ruefully at them when we lose a wicket, pat them on the back if they do well, and say 'mubarak ho' if they win. I hope we can, but I don't know if we can.
When the fans troop across (as I assume they will), I hope to make them feel as wonderful as I did. And while I know I am not in the minority on this, when (if!) the proverbial stuff hits the Pavillion roofs and India is not doing well, I hope we can all suppress the passion a little and elevate the khatirdari.
After all, it is also in India that mehmaan bhagwaan samaan hai (a guest is akin to God).

[ On second thoughts, I definitely hope I have to 'defend' Mr Akhtar to a pakistani visitor, because it'll mean we are thrashing him around the park again! ]

Neutrality II

It is a feeling the average Indian cricket fan will know little, if at all. (Or that's what I think, though maybe I am being unfair on the lot).
The feeling, that is, of watching a game of cricket that does not involve the Indian cricket team, and has no bearing whatsoever on it's team's fate. As I see it, most cricket fans in India (and I am talking about the population as a whole) will watch the India games. Go over the moon if we win, and turn away in disgust if the team is losing. This is where you see the passion factor, which ensures that cricket is so emotional for people here, (me not excluded). In that surfeit of emotion however, lies the fact that very often the game for its own sake is not appreciated. Or even noticed.

For me, it started of with utter neutrality. When I had seen England beat Australia I wanted England to go all the way. The eternal bridesmaids would have made romantic winners. When Pakistan lost in the semis, I thought too that it would be great for the West Indies to lift the cup. In the end, the Windies win was much the more romantic one. The baggage they've carried into this tournament, much like in most tournaments they have played in in the last few years, was so significant that winning despite it made it all the more romantic.
Why, even during the final I swung between supporting the home side and the Calypso artistes; cushioned by large spells of not really caring who won, as such. I followed part of the Windies reply on the radio in the car, and could almost see the English summer crowned by a big trophy. By the time I returned to the telly and saw the two Bs struggling to stay in the match, it looked all but over. But when they had fought back to reach within 50 runs of the target, I knew these guys had to be the ones I would be happiest to see victors. And so it was. The sheer delight, the dancing, the relief, the emotion on all their faces was some sight. I felt good especially for Lara, who has been under some serious (and overdone) fire of late. I hope this win really is, as they have said, a a new beginning.
(If only it were that straightforward).
But lets savour a classic West Indian win, for now.

Champions Trophy kicks off

...and I had almost forgotten how infuriating, irritating and quite simply, bad, Mandira Bedi was. Time had actually softened my view of her. Alas, it was an illusion. She is back to haunt us. Do women actually tune in because of her? Do more men tune in beause of her? Is there perpetual sunshine in England? Is Australia on the decline?...

No balls called by the third umpire. It could, they say, take the slghtest advantage away from the batsman who will not be able to change his shot at the last moment. It could, also, cause the third umpire to slip into a coma as he stares at a monitor showing the locked side on camera on the popping crease for about600 deliveries.
But I have a thought. Its the last ball of the second innings. The batting side needs two runs to win. One wicket in hand. The batsman drops the ball, scampers for a run and is run out. A no ball is (belatedly) called. The batting team gets a run, but are all out and cannot face the extra ball, the match is tied. In the old scenario, they would not have risked the single- keeping, instead their last wicket intact to face the last ball with only one to get off it, and possibly won.
Am I missing somethng?