For the love of the game...

Many of us support Manchester United or Chelsea or Liverpool in the English Premier League. We do not support Manchester United because we are from Manchester or because we speak the language spoken in Manchester. Then why should our support in IPL be dependent upon whether we are from M in MI or C in CSK or B in RCB. It makes more sense to support teams based on their ability or their players or their style of play as deemed by us. Before I am laughed off, let me ask you a question. How many of you seriously believe that the IPL teams are a representation of the state or the city after which they are named. MI had two players from Mumbai in their playing eleven. CSK had four players from Chennai. The coaching staffs for all teams barring MI were predominantly foreign. These are teams that belong to the franchisees. Yes, city based names have made it popular. If popularity was the sole criterion then why were the quadrangular/pentangular tournaments in erstwhile Bombay stopped?

These misplaced rivalries combined with the gaudy frills around the games have succeeded in producing the faithless follower, a follower for whom revelry is the aim and the team that he is supporting is his alter ego. He will not mind if the game is cricket or gilli-danda or ludo. Cheer leaders, silly competitions and victories to satiate his ego are all that he needs. Fortunately, the true cricket fan watches IPL after weeding it to find cricket. It has helped that the cricket has been of very good quality in spite of all the nonsense around it.

Let us listen to a person who watches Zimbabwe play Kenya, who wakes up at 3 am to watch a test match in Newzealand, who stays awake till 3 am to watch the end of play when matches are played in the WestIndies....


“I love cricket and so I speak. I can’t bear sports relying on cheap advertising. I can’t bear commentators who keep on pushing brands down my throat. I can’t laugh off losers discussing the ‘Match ka Mujrim’. It hurts me when my love for the game is considered to be a function of petty misled rivalries. It hurts when the soi distant educated individuals malign great players in the veil of supporting their team. Some of the communities and comments on social networking sites have been a disgrace. The less said about the comments posted for the articles on cricket websites, the better. If supporting a team entices a person to make derogatory remarks about another team or individual then I should never again support a team. Not even when India is playing Pakistan.

The IPL could have been a glorious example of the new face that my country aspires to acquire. But promises have not been kept and what we have got is another mess. It hurts when a person who claims to be a cricket historian from Australia takes this opportunity to lash against my country. It hurts when he equates IPL with corruption and sleaze and furthermore, extends this as a generalization about everything else in this country.

I am hurt because you let go an opportunity to be the change that fans with their heart in the right place want to see in the game. You suspend captains for slow over rates but turn a blind eye towards the liberal usage of four letter words. It may reduce the apparent entertainment value but the time has come to say a complete ‘NO’ to sledging. Five minutes per innings that you devote to ‘strategic’ time outs could have been utilized to present the team with an opportunity to go for a limited number of decision reviews. As far as advertising is concerned, all that I wish you know is the story that my dad told me when I was six, the story of the goose that laid gold eggs.

Fair weather friends exist in sports, as much as anywhere else. The new friends that you have gained are friends of the show called IPL and not Indian cricket. However, once they turn enemies, IPL will be synonymous with Indian cricket for them. We have seen tough times during the nineties and the early 2000s. We came out of the tough times strongly due to people like me who were ready to bear sub humane conditions in many venues which got matches only due to your rotation policy which is a mere vote garnering gimmick. We were the ones who watched India lose to Pakistan in a great exhibition of skill at Chennai and then had the magnanimity of character to honour the winning team with a standing ovation. We are the ones who fill the stadiums every time there is a test match in Bangalore. The powers of the game are treading dangerous territory as a result of which my love for the game is being tested. It may give in one day and believe me; the new ‘IPL fans’ that you claim to have acquired will be no replacement."

A mortal's ode to Sachin

As Sachin Tendulkar celebrates his thirty seventh birthday, I am reminded of a year when Sachin celebrated his birthday in the most astonishing fashion, his performances transcending the boundaries that limit mere mortals. Yes, the summer of 98 it was. That was when he made us all proud to be Indians. Not that he had not done it earlier, not that he is not doing it now but things reached a crescendo then. Bryan Adams sang 'Summer of 69'. I would have done a 'Summer of 98', had I been blessed with even a fraction of Bryan Adams' skills. I am not and therefore its plain words that I conjure to describe the ecstasy of seeing genius on display.

We all know what Sir Donald Bradman had to say about Sachin. It’s not style to repeat that, just like how people think it’s not style to praise Sachin Tendulkar. You are just stating the obvious, but proclaiming that the guy cannot flick a full toss on the pads may earn you, a second or two of fame. Fame or notoriety, I doubt because gravity takes care of all attempts of spitting on the moon.

Oh ! The summer of 98.

Discussing the brilliance of any of the innings played by the maestro is gross injustice because genius transcends words. It is exhibited on rare occasions and on rarer occasions do billions have the fortune of watching it. I still remember that it was annual examinations time. My mom had to flash an apologetic and ask me to stop watching the highlights of the test matches for the nth time and start studying. I am sure that mom and dad watched it on mute after packing me off to studies.

Move on to Sharjah. Till then Sharjah was synonymous with the last ball six by Javed Miandad. Post Summer of 98, Sharjah is all about the twin centuries from the master's blade. Those were the days when watching pay channels was a luxury few could afford, especially if you were not residing in a city. Star Sports had just gone the 'pay channel' way. Hundreds flocked around the television set placed in a temple corridor of all places by the only cable operator showing Star Sports in town. There was silence every time ‘Aapla Sachin’ (‘Our Sachin’, that’s how he was addressed) was on strike, followed by thunderous applause or mass hysteria depending upon whether it was a single or a boundary scored. By the time the finals came, every cable operator in town had Star Sports. Tony Greig’s commentary during the blitzkriegs provided the ideal background. Genuine admiration sprang from each word he uttered. There was a desert storm during the first of the centuries, but watch the videos and you will see one man looking it in the eye.

The Aussies went back defeated but with tales that will be part of their autobiographies. Shane Warne spoke of nightmares but for millions it was a dream...

PS: I had written this long back. I just thought of posting it as an ode to Sachin on his birthday. Not many would have imagined that twelve years down the line, Sachin would still be going full blast...