The last over of the England-Sri Lanka game felt like the first over of the World Cup. The World had finally come together, and some more. A heightened frenzy that only last-over crazies can conjure – if you’re not at the edge of your lazyboy, you’ve already keeled over. Perhaps, you’re being sucked in by the friendly cricketing poltergeist. Far removed from a day of resignations, derogations. You are in a cricketing orbit – you are in the game, the game is inside you. Innuendos aside, this is it.
And as I watch, it dawns upon me, somewhat prematurely, at 3.10 in the A.M., that Ravinder Singh Bopara (Rav Party?) who’s taking strike, and Sajid Iqbal Mahmood (Saj Pepper?) the non-striker, and Congenige Randhi Dilhara Fernando (Fernando!) who intends to strike the stumps out of the ground, are complete music in their diversity.
And that’s not all, there’s Nasser Hussain (former English skipper with an Indian father) coupled with Ranjit Fernando, former Sri Lankan player and member of the Nondescripts Cricket Club, on air. I’m on air.
If you started the 50th over, invoking the islanders to overcome the imperialists, Ravi Bopara’s four through square juggles your loyalties like a media savvy Indian cricketer. And whilst your mind does the proverbial ponder, the Pommies in the pond Splash, Boom, Bang! Can swear I counted every conceivable age group in that Pommy Pond. In a World Cup where the locals can’t afford the obscenely priced tickets, it takes the Barmy Army to make you feel frenzy.
And you’re forced to splash too, pumping the headphones till you go stone-deaf like Pete Townshend. Who’s that? Who cares! Boy, this is heaven-sent, godsend, and we’re not even half-way through the 50th.
The tension is tumultuous – in the media box, Nasser Hussain and Ranjit Fernando have completely lost their bearings, and rightly so. They have both settled for a tie, and have almost shaken on it. It’s too darn tricky. It’s now down to the last ball - 2 for a tie, 3 for an English victory. Bopara has the strike. Fernando to bowl, but he doesn’t. Nerves. Second take: He clean bowls Bopara. Sri Lanka win. Man of the Match: Bopara.
A matchless game – that created by default a level playing field for nearly every ethnic group. It didn’t matter whether Saj Mahmood was once labeled a “traitor” by the British Pakistani fans at Headingley. It didn’t matter if Bopara is a Singh. And Monty Panesar’s no flying Sikh. It didn’t matter whether Kevin Pietersen was once more South African than English. It didn’t matter that Nasser Hussain’s Daddy was Indian. What did matter was that they all wanted England to win. And like Kevin Pietersen’s visiting card once read, “Professional Cricketer”, there’s no greater commitment to sport than professionalism.
Written 5th April, 2007
April 12, 2007
April 05, 2007
Minnow Bhai
Clichés and the unknown in world cricket.
Minnow must be the most used, if not abused word in cricketing circles today. On last count, minnows’ usage was threatening that of ‘World Cup’, ‘Open’, ‘Caribbean’ and the ‘West Indies’. Here’s a sampler, from even before the tournament kicked off, not to mention, before the minnows kicked the biggies in the gut - ‘Beware of the minnows!’ ‘Don’t underestimate the minnows’ ‘Minnows can cause major upsets’ ‘Should ICC allow minnows to play in the World Cup?’ ‘16 teams but half are minnows!’ ‘Only four games without minnows in preliminary stage’ ‘Minnows must earn their place’ ‘All teams start off as minnows’
But as manure is to a garden, minnow is to this World Cup. It has enriched the tournament no end. And if world cricket is fortunate enough, these very minnows will add to the growth of world cricket. At a hefty price though – with the elimination of Pakistan by minnows, Ireland, and possibly, India courtesy minnows, Bangladesh, to be confirmed after a few zombie days and sleepless nights. But then, maybe world cricket needed the minnows to pull out these weeds?
In sport what doesn’t augur well for one team, promises to be payday for another. And when a minnow upsets an arguably stronger team, you always hear someone saying, ‘the telltale signs were all there’ ‘these guys are playing beyond their expiry date’ And possibly, with time, ‘Wake up call’ and ‘heads will roll’ will become as abused as ‘minnows’ once were.
Or for that matter, the ‘underdog’ or ‘dark horses’. Only in the minnows case they are meant to be bottom of the barrel ‘underdogs’ and darker than night ‘dark horses’. Their purpose in the World Cup isn’t even defined – why else would the ICC website list the supposed Super 8 itinerary without any minnows but with Pakistan and India and the other 6 top ranked teams. Remorse. No India-Pakistan game. Hell, there’s always Toronto. For, after the World Cup debacles it appears unlikely if the two teams will be allowed to play in their own backyards any time soon.
‘It’s just a game’- the rationalists, intelligentsia, agnostics, hermits and fixers will call out. ‘It’s much more than a game’ - the millions back home in Ireland and Bangladesh will be thumping their chests. Ironic, but when one team becomes history, the other makes it. That’s something that usually happens with minnows. With the seasoned, and often jaded biggies, it’s just overhauling bigger scores, hitting bigger sixes.
Is there something new to be discovered? In India’s defeat and Pakistan’s loss, will these two former champions ‘reinvent the wheel’ Will they be forced to shed their senior statesman, many of whom could be made ‘scapegoats’. Will coaches find their contracts tersely terminated? What, with Bob Woolmer’s mysterious death, one illustrious cricketing career has already ended prematurely. Uncannily, almost like that of his friend’s Hansie Cronje.
Written on March 18th, 2007
Clichés and the unknown in world cricket.
Minnow must be the most used, if not abused word in cricketing circles today. On last count, minnows’ usage was threatening that of ‘World Cup’, ‘Open’, ‘Caribbean’ and the ‘West Indies’. Here’s a sampler, from even before the tournament kicked off, not to mention, before the minnows kicked the biggies in the gut - ‘Beware of the minnows!’ ‘Don’t underestimate the minnows’ ‘Minnows can cause major upsets’ ‘Should ICC allow minnows to play in the World Cup?’ ‘16 teams but half are minnows!’ ‘Only four games without minnows in preliminary stage’ ‘Minnows must earn their place’ ‘All teams start off as minnows’
But as manure is to a garden, minnow is to this World Cup. It has enriched the tournament no end. And if world cricket is fortunate enough, these very minnows will add to the growth of world cricket. At a hefty price though – with the elimination of Pakistan by minnows, Ireland, and possibly, India courtesy minnows, Bangladesh, to be confirmed after a few zombie days and sleepless nights. But then, maybe world cricket needed the minnows to pull out these weeds?
In sport what doesn’t augur well for one team, promises to be payday for another. And when a minnow upsets an arguably stronger team, you always hear someone saying, ‘the telltale signs were all there’ ‘these guys are playing beyond their expiry date’ And possibly, with time, ‘Wake up call’ and ‘heads will roll’ will become as abused as ‘minnows’ once were.
Or for that matter, the ‘underdog’ or ‘dark horses’. Only in the minnows case they are meant to be bottom of the barrel ‘underdogs’ and darker than night ‘dark horses’. Their purpose in the World Cup isn’t even defined – why else would the ICC website list the supposed Super 8 itinerary without any minnows but with Pakistan and India and the other 6 top ranked teams. Remorse. No India-Pakistan game. Hell, there’s always Toronto. For, after the World Cup debacles it appears unlikely if the two teams will be allowed to play in their own backyards any time soon.
‘It’s just a game’- the rationalists, intelligentsia, agnostics, hermits and fixers will call out. ‘It’s much more than a game’ - the millions back home in Ireland and Bangladesh will be thumping their chests. Ironic, but when one team becomes history, the other makes it. That’s something that usually happens with minnows. With the seasoned, and often jaded biggies, it’s just overhauling bigger scores, hitting bigger sixes.
Is there something new to be discovered? In India’s defeat and Pakistan’s loss, will these two former champions ‘reinvent the wheel’ Will they be forced to shed their senior statesman, many of whom could be made ‘scapegoats’. Will coaches find their contracts tersely terminated? What, with Bob Woolmer’s mysterious death, one illustrious cricketing career has already ended prematurely. Uncannily, almost like that of his friend’s Hansie Cronje.
Written on March 18th, 2007
A Joint Account of Hansie and Bob.
The first article I wrote on cricket, apart from the e-mails to friends, was a tribute to Hansie Cronje on cricinfo. Cronje's mysterious, and surreal death in a plane crash was like a metaphor for his cricketing life – one moment, dizzy heights, the next, abyss.
Cronje’s death, and a subsequent visit to cricinfo were compelling enough for me to write something meaningful in addition to the rants to friends. An incident had altered the peace of my almost benign cricketing world - something that went beyond setting targets and trivial pursuits. At that point it even went beyond the ghost of match fixing. In a strange way, it appeared to me that Cronje’s troubled ghost would lurk amongst us forever. As if the justice meted out to him wasn’t just. Partly because he was being singled out, and partly because of his unfathomable fall from grace. It was almost like that song, “when heroes go down, they go down fast”. Or that other one, “only the good die young”. Yes, in a way, Cronje’s death was akin to that of a Shakespearean tragedy, nothing short of Macbeth or Hamlet.
Apart from Hansie Cronje’s poker face, there are other images that remain – the manner in which he would bring himself to bowl that deceptive military medium stuff when Sachin Tendulkar was on song, often with the field restrictions in place. Surprisingly, he would place a leg slip, bowl a middle or leg stump line, and invariably outwit our young marauder, having him caught exactly there!
The other image of Cronje was of him coming halfway down the wicket, and lofting Muralitharan through midwicket. Then there is the earpiece for his master’s voice, Bob Woolmer. And now, that Woolmer is no more, I can almost make sense of both coach and captain. Why the leg-slip? Why attack Murali? Why the earpiece? It’s almost as if ingenuity recognizes itself in others. That and the soft-spoken studied air.
While both Woolmer and Cronje were illustrious enough to ascertain the elusive roadmap to success, it was eventually one decision that cost them dearly. While Cronje was match-fixed, Woolmer was Pakistaned. In the recent past, from the troubled England series onwards, Woolmer appeared mentally exhausted on most TV interviews. Gone was the ice cool coach accustomed to victory. The man appeared vulnerable, unsure, almost beaten by defeat and criticism. Is it any wonder after the repeated politicking, fiascos, abuse, expectations that are part of Pakistani cricket?
What’s more, the most respected man in Pakistani cricket, Imran Khan let lose his tirades against Woolmer – he openly condemned the coach and his lack of strategy in nearly every single article and show. Imagine how Imran Khan’s opinion would have undermined Woolmer’s place in Pakistani cricket. What would senior players who grew-up worshipping Imran Bhai have made of Woolmer?
But just like Inzi never batted up the order (much to Khan’s dismay), Woolmer, much to his own detriment continued as the Paki coach. Had Woolmer heeded the Khan’s advice, he may just have saved his life.
Also, what makes it so surreal in Woolmer’s case is that he seemed like this endearing plump Brit bloke juxtaposed with an enigmatic cold tech South African coaching machine. And with his Pakistani stint, it appears the balance of his two worlds were frequently disturbed.
As in Princess Di, Rajiv Gandhi and JFK’s case, the world mourns some losses more deeply than others. Perhaps, it’s that heart wrenching feeling of a dream unfilled. The sorrow of not ever knowing what could have been? And that is a sadness that tends to overpower you, because in a way, it has no answers. And essentially, human beings like answers.
written on March, 20, 2007.
Cronje’s death, and a subsequent visit to cricinfo were compelling enough for me to write something meaningful in addition to the rants to friends. An incident had altered the peace of my almost benign cricketing world - something that went beyond setting targets and trivial pursuits. At that point it even went beyond the ghost of match fixing. In a strange way, it appeared to me that Cronje’s troubled ghost would lurk amongst us forever. As if the justice meted out to him wasn’t just. Partly because he was being singled out, and partly because of his unfathomable fall from grace. It was almost like that song, “when heroes go down, they go down fast”. Or that other one, “only the good die young”. Yes, in a way, Cronje’s death was akin to that of a Shakespearean tragedy, nothing short of Macbeth or Hamlet.
Apart from Hansie Cronje’s poker face, there are other images that remain – the manner in which he would bring himself to bowl that deceptive military medium stuff when Sachin Tendulkar was on song, often with the field restrictions in place. Surprisingly, he would place a leg slip, bowl a middle or leg stump line, and invariably outwit our young marauder, having him caught exactly there!
The other image of Cronje was of him coming halfway down the wicket, and lofting Muralitharan through midwicket. Then there is the earpiece for his master’s voice, Bob Woolmer. And now, that Woolmer is no more, I can almost make sense of both coach and captain. Why the leg-slip? Why attack Murali? Why the earpiece? It’s almost as if ingenuity recognizes itself in others. That and the soft-spoken studied air.
While both Woolmer and Cronje were illustrious enough to ascertain the elusive roadmap to success, it was eventually one decision that cost them dearly. While Cronje was match-fixed, Woolmer was Pakistaned. In the recent past, from the troubled England series onwards, Woolmer appeared mentally exhausted on most TV interviews. Gone was the ice cool coach accustomed to victory. The man appeared vulnerable, unsure, almost beaten by defeat and criticism. Is it any wonder after the repeated politicking, fiascos, abuse, expectations that are part of Pakistani cricket?
What’s more, the most respected man in Pakistani cricket, Imran Khan let lose his tirades against Woolmer – he openly condemned the coach and his lack of strategy in nearly every single article and show. Imagine how Imran Khan’s opinion would have undermined Woolmer’s place in Pakistani cricket. What would senior players who grew-up worshipping Imran Bhai have made of Woolmer?
But just like Inzi never batted up the order (much to Khan’s dismay), Woolmer, much to his own detriment continued as the Paki coach. Had Woolmer heeded the Khan’s advice, he may just have saved his life.
Also, what makes it so surreal in Woolmer’s case is that he seemed like this endearing plump Brit bloke juxtaposed with an enigmatic cold tech South African coaching machine. And with his Pakistani stint, it appears the balance of his two worlds were frequently disturbed.
As in Princess Di, Rajiv Gandhi and JFK’s case, the world mourns some losses more deeply than others. Perhaps, it’s that heart wrenching feeling of a dream unfilled. The sorrow of not ever knowing what could have been? And that is a sadness that tends to overpower you, because in a way, it has no answers. And essentially, human beings like answers.
written on March, 20, 2007.
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