19th Nervous Breakdown.

Go on, abuse Harbhajan Singh.

It’s politically correct.

Call him names. Call him big, bad dirty Hinglish names. Names that would have made Bhajji proud.

Bhajji is no saint. A while back he said Gilchrist was no saint.

Where did that come from? Ok, that was Australia, Sydney, Symonds, monkey, teri ma ki. Is Australia relevant?

From India’s favourite son, beholder of national pride, he is now a human stain. A cricketing untouchable.

And unlike in the Aussie chapter, this time, action was swift. An eleven match IPL ban, and Bhajji’s fifteen minutes of fame were over.

But why did it come to this?

Weren’t the telltale signs always there – in Australia, in the South Africa series, in the dressing room? Of course, what happens in there stays there.

Is Bhajji alone responsible? Was he so potent a power that Sachin Tendulkar, M.S. Dhoni, Lalchand Rajput, Garry Kirsten just let him be.

What about Anil Kumble? What was his take on Bhajji’s theatrics in the last two test series? Or was he neutralised like some of the village elders?

Isn’t Bhajji one of M.S. Dhoni’s ablest lieutenants in both the T20 and one-day games -what was his take all along?

What was our take? What was the media’s take? Did we give a damn, as long as Bhajji was proven not guilty in Australia?

Who else has been undermined in the past? Why did Dravid resign as test captain? Kumble over Bhajji for Dravid; Bhajji over Kumble for Ganguly. Why do we continue to hear talks of favouritism?

And now Bhajji v/s Sreesanth. North v/s South. Welcome to IPL.

And why was Harbhajan Singh made Mumbai Indians’ captain? In the absence of Sachin Tendulkar, did a team called “Indians” demand a provocative Indian player as its first face? While foreign veterans Shaun Pollock and Sanath Jayasuriya were overlooked, Bhajji was at best a popular choice. The selection disregarded his short fuse, flawed people skills, and penchant for pangas.

The same Bhajji who suffers anxiety attacks when he doesn’t strike early. A common refrain when he comes on to bowl: “needs an early wicket”. Or else.

And when that early wicket eludes, watch the shoulders twitch, droop, fall – followed by an uneasy grimace at missfields, another nervous breakdown at a dropped catch. As if the catch dropped was a personal attack on his virility.

Imagine then, what erupts when Sreesanth missfields or drops a catch off Bhajji’s bowling? Lord have mercy.

The irony of Bhajji being his own worst enemy is not lost in this: first, he overestimated his own capabilities and accepted the Mumbai Indians’ captaincy. The first few defeats set the bomb ticking, the last one, ironically against Kings XI Punjab, exploded in his face.

Looking at Bhajji operate, you sense the world is his enemy. Looking at Sreesanth act, you sense he’s the world’s enemy. One perception leads to the other, and finally, the two cricketers persecute themselves, with or without the help of others.

It’s no surprise then that two players, so similar, almost craving for the world’s attention, could not coexist in the same team. And while their craft of pace and spin, is as dissimilar, as North and South, they almost appear to be threatened by the others one-upmanship.

A telling difference between the two, Singh at 27, is a ten year veteran in world cricket, while Sreesanth at 25, made his international debut in 2006.

Yet somehow the two continue to act like squabbling six year olds. “Gimme my bat, that’s my ball…WACK!!”

And if that is the case, reform school cannot be far behind. For, to punish them with match bans and set them lose again will be wrong on both Indian cricket and the two players.

Here’s a rare opportunity for Indian cricket: to make two wrongs right.


Suggested listening:

19th Nervous Breakdown by Rolling Stones
Paper Tiger by Beck