While Indian cricket continues to flounder, it is becoming increasingly difficult to flog the dead horse. Considering only eleven can represent India's one billion, let us try and categorise our cricket enthusiasts into three varieties. There are those who play, and unknowingly carry the stresses of representing the nation. Then, there are the emotional fools who allow their fortunes to fluctuate with the performance of the players.Both these categories are visible one out in the middle and the other in the stands (I am not considering the millions who view the game on the box). The last category is that of the administrators, who neither play nor sit in the stands. Yet, their intrinsic value (mostly evil in the Indian context) is seldom analysed under a microscope. The odd Nostradamus, like the BCCI secretary can get away with murder, because he is aware the power of the Press is not greater than the power of suppress.
Most Indian cricketers are made to suffer, in varying degrees from delusions of grandeur, although all skill is relative and it is perhaps the secret of cricketing happiness. But, in the case of our representative heroes, commerce is a singular source of joy (when the going is good!) and with failure comes the greatest source of anxiety. They say cricket is a glorious, manly game (I am not being chauvinistic) and that is definitely not to suggest that it should become the preserve of the bullies and cheats.
Of course, it is a game which inspires glorious and chivalrous deeds, but in essence, it is a tough battle between a batsman and a bowler. Now, it is this battle, which Indian batsmen and bowlers were seemingly losing before the contest got underway.
The basics of self-belief and confidence were just not there. All this stems from a total lack of mental and physical preparedness. Agility, skill and character were in awfully short supply. Some say `courage' was missing. Well, it is also mental tenacity, the determination to spell out the killer instinct, so as to get on top without getting carried away.
``Only if you can keep your head while all around you are losing theirs and blaming it on you,'' thus spake Graham Gooch, not a literary man by any standards. But a very devoted and down-to-earth and run-of-the-mill professional cricketer. My kind of person, who always played within his limitations.
Except for Sachin Tendulkar, the entire bunch of the Indian cricket team are very limited with their abilities. Sadly, most of them are victims of blind adulation. For example, how can Saurav Ganguly ever be talked of in the same breath as David Gower and Frank Woolley? Fortunately, Sir Garfield Sobers was spared this ignominy! And then, we have Dravid as `Mr Dependable'. How ludicrous!
The only dependable batsman I have seen was the late Ken Barrington. Well, the game reflects everyone's flaws and virtues; the rash and the calm; the bold and the cautious; the honest and the treacherous; the foolish and the wise. You wonder where one can fit in the Indian clan.
Cricket can and does mean much to the average Indian cricket follower. But the responsibility can weigh down heavily on the strongest. ``When cricket burns a dull, slow fire, it needs just a swift wind of occasion to set everything into a blaze that consumes nerves and senses.'' That is Sir Neville Cardus eulogising the game for our benefit. It is indeed a tragedy of sorts that on the one hand, we have cricketers with no time for history, and on the other, we have `experts', who claim they are ``poor watchers of the game.''
How can you be a good student of the game without knowing its background? Just as you cannot possibly be a professional `talker' or `writer' without keeping your eyes on the game. Looking at the Indian scene, I remain bewitched, bothered and bewildered with suggestions like importing fast wickets (whatever that means). For a nation that excels in lethargy, we are in a terrible rush to change our cricketing character.
Copyright © 2000 Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) Ltd.
