Cricket, a tryst with destiny

Ian Botham attempts to avoid a Curtly Ambrose bouncer but only succeeds in hitting his own wicket (West Indies touring England in 1991)

I always believed that the 20-20 format was a cricket killer.  Those of us who watch test match cricket (E.g., England vs. Australia, India vs. South Africa) would know that the standards of cricket in any 20-20 match is not the greatest in the world.  Yes, we do see an occasional great catch, a run out, a stolen single, and a big six, but those are not cricket.

The English county cricket clubs started playing the mini-format of the game to attract more people and to generate income, and to sustain domestic 4-day games. They were competing with another sport (football) that had and still has an unmatched following in that part of the world.  Other cricket playing countries picked up the T20 format at various junctures mostly because of business reasons.  In India, 20-20 did become a super hit once India won the inaugural edition of 20-20 world cup in South Africa.  Looking back, I just feel how unlucky we were to have won that.  There is no doubt that IPL has generated an unprecedented fan following for cricket in India and to an extent abroad.  I don’t know how good it is to have fans who don’t even know what they are cheering for. To be honest, those fans who started following cricket because of 20-20 should ask themselves why they did so.  There is no doubt that the Indian Premier League (IPL) has had some financial irregularities.  One may try to forgive that.

Some of those who played test cricket at the highest level (former and current) wholeheartedly embraced the concept of IPL when it came into being.  Some of the Indian domestic players did get a chance to rub shoulders with legendary cricketers, which they could not have done otherwise.  Some of the cricketers who had finished their international careers returned to the field.  They knew that they could easily do it.  After all, they were experienced in playing real cricket.  Many Indian batsmen who had successfully played for several years in domestic circuits (Ranji Trophy, Duleep Trophy etc) got a chance to show their talent.  They had failed to break into the national team unfortunately because of the virtuous golden Indian middle order.  As far as bowling is concerned, the playing surfaces in India made sure that we did not encourage either spin or pace bowling.  No hopes what so ever.  In came ICL and then IPL…to be fair to many Indian domestic players who went with them indeed received some sort of financial security.  I am sure it was the primary reason why they chose to play for these leagues. I don’t want to talk about either ICC or BCCI because there is nothing worthy to say.  There is no doubt that if 20-20 were to come into existence in an ODI free world (or pre-ODI era) , then it may have evolved in a different way.

Cricket is not new to foul play.  I am sensible enough not hold the 20-20 format responsible for all the wrongs in cricket.  However, there is no doubt that from the beginning, the IPL had all the recipes for a disaster.  It was not if but when.  I do have some sympathy for the players who have taken part in it.  The only thing that made me watch a certain IPL match was the fact that some retired international players were playing again.  Some unsung heroes of domestic tournaments got their much-deserved moments in limelight.   But, almost everyone knew from the beginning that IPL is not going to give us solid TEST cricketers.   I wouldn’t mind that provided it did not convert the existing potential test-talent into crap. We could see how easily Kallis and Dravid translated their games from a ‘classic true story’ (hardbound, library edition) to a ‘best seller fiction’ (paperback, economy edition).  We saw how Warne and Kumble bowled their effective short 4 over spells because they had bowled countless gruelling 10 over spells in their career. Nonetheless, I am sure we are not going see the hard-hitting (ugly), bottom handed batsmen and quick  bowling-spinners transforming their mindset to play the real format.

Those who argue in favour of 20-20 always try to draw a parallel between the emergence of 20-20 with the onset of ODI in the 1970s and point to the survival of test cricket. I just want to tell them one thing.  If you do want to support the 20-20 format, it has to be in a world cup tournament played once in four years.  I would go a step further and ask people to stop playing/ supporting bilateral ODI series as well.

If every test playing country doesn’t play at least 10 test matches per year, then we may do just as well by settling for base-ball. Again, I just hope that  the 20-20 mania has not caused an irreversible damage to the game of cricket.  The 20-20 format has an outside chance of helping the game of cricket if and only if we started playing on fair surfaces in a groud where boundaries are at least 75 yards away.  This applies first to test cricket.  If, test cricket continues on dead surfaces, then forget the impact of 20-20…we may have to legitimize bowling machines.

PS: A great test cricket match played on a fair surface has the potential to nullify the effect of several wrongs in cricket. It is said that people tend to have short memories. Memories are neither short nor long, they are convenient.

A quote from rediff.com news site (added on May 20th):  West Indies bowling great Michael Holding did not watch a single match of the Twenty20 World Cup in the Caribbean, refuses to call it cricket… A staunch critic of cricket’s slam-bang format, Holding said he did not bother to watch the T20 World Cup even though it took place in the West Indies. “Not one ball. I don’t watch Twenty20. It is dumbing-down cricket. They should find another name for it,” said the 56-year-old Jamaican, who was called ‘Whispering Death’ in his playing days for his quiet approach to the bowling crease.

To Quantify Grief

image credit: the guardian.com

People generally tag teenage years as the most confused and cumbersome phase of a person’s life.  I rather see children between the age 2 and 9 as the most difficult people I have ever met.   They don’t seem to understand what they are about but still know what they are.   Their confusion is not rebellious as it is for most teenagers.  A very young child is a scary being because it is not deeply influenced by anything.  No one can attract its attention except its own mother and rarely its father.  A mother’s influence on a developing young child is well established.  I don’t have to cite anything for that, do I?

The 2 to 9 age window of a child is a difficult phase not for the child but for its father.   The roles are reversed when the child enters its teenage years, and I don’t think a father can do much by being worried about improving himself during his child’s teenage years.    However, I believe that for a father, it is difficult to get a grip on a young child.   He has to invest a lot more (relatively) to develop a bonding with his offspring.  An early investment is necessary for a retirement benefit (if one can call it that).

We lose people (to death) at various junctures in our lives.  I might be right if I say that a young person’s life if lost is the most expensive of all losses because the time and the resources invested in him/her for 20 to 30 years would not yield any societal or personal returns (with justifiable exceptions).   However, from the perspective of the young person who died prematurely, one could say that at least s/he had a chance to understand and enjoy life for as long as s/he lived (30+ years).  I think the human society is kind enough to grant that to someone.

Death of a newborn, as it is so common in the world, would not be as traumatic to its father as it would be to its mother.  But, after four to nine years, after a father would have searched for his limited emotional reserves to invest in his offspring, if the child dies, his grief would have no solace.

Recently, I heard a radio interview of Ian Clayton, an author and a broadcasting journalist, who described the experience of losing his 9 year-old daughter in a canoeing accident.  He tried to see the positive side and said that she had a wonderful 9 years full of enthusiasm and was happy that he could spend 9 good years with his young daughter.  The interviewer found it hard to believe and so did I.

A couple of days ago there was news that people who were curating a museum established in memory of Rudyard Kipling found an early print edition of his famous work ‘The Jungle Book” (we remember Mowgli, don’t we?).  They found that Kipling had written an inscription that read, “This book belongs to Josephine Kipling, for whom it was written by her father, May 1894”.  Josephine was his first child and he lost her to pneumonia in 1899 at the tender age of 6.  The book was preserved by his younger daughter Elsie Kipling.  Rudyard Kipling could have been slightly better off than most fathers in a similar situation because he had written something for her that too when she was alive.  He could perhaps relate to her when he was writing “The Jungle Book”.

I forgot to add that even Ian Clayton wrote a book on his daughter after her death, trying to document everything (both important and unimportant) she had done in her short life. It surely could have helped him recover and as all of you would add, it certainly goes beyond that.  There are several other legitimate mechanisms to do that also.  I might be foolish in my attempt to quantify grief.  Ultimately, I think it is what we do when we cope with any loss.

PS (added on April 14th): Recently I went through the feelings of a father when he loses his child. The only difference was that the child-like being whom I lost, was 90 years old.