The darker side of cricket

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‘Save Melbourne, target Brabourne’ seems to be the mantra of the Australian media. L Suresh reports.

“Silly us, here we were thinking Indian crowds making monkey gestures to Andrew Symonds was something that fell under the International Cricket Council's anti-racism code.” These are the opening lines of an article titled ‘India makes monkey of racism row’ by Peter Lalor, in The Australian. While adding that ‘Indian denials of the racist incident contain a number of lines of thought that range from ridiculous to ignorant’, he also goes on to say that “Indians claim that monkey chanting is unknown as a racist slur in this country.”

While monkey calls, hoots and references to various members of the simian family are commonplace in countries where racism is prevalent, despite what the Australian press thinks, it is uncommon in India. Monkey chants can be heard from errant schoolboys in classrooms, from Romeos hanging outside Mumbai locals, from little children visiting zoos and trying to excite the chimps, but it has never been heard inside a stadium. And with the ample coverage that the Vadodara incident received, it had to be tried out by some smart alec spectator. And that was what the world got to see at the Wankhede Stadium in Mumbai.

“Soccer crowds are notorious for monkey chants to black players... It happened in April in Slovakia. It happens in Spain, Scotland, everywhere, apparently, but India. Rich and even lower middle-class Indians would know this. English soccer is a staple on television here.” Monkey chants to black players happens in Germany, Slovakia, Spain, Scotland, everywhere but India. True again. Perhaps things take time coming here - even American Idol’s Indian version took a couple of years coming to India. Perhaps in a few years, the lower middle-class will be hooked on to English football as well.

Raucous crowd behaviour is universal and India is no exception to it. There have been instances in the Asian countries when matches have been called off due to crowd disturbances. The third one-dayer between India and Pakistan in Karachi during the 1989-90 series was abandoned as the home team crumbled to 28 for 3 and the crowds decided that they would do a better job of ‘occupying the crease’. During the 1996 World Cup semi-finals, it was the turn of the Indian crowds to step in and control the proceedings at the Eden Gardens as India lost to Sri Lanka. A 90,000-strong crowd had to be evicted from the same venue during the Asian Test Championship in 1999, a because of rioting in the stadium.

There have been many more instances of bottles, orange peel, stones and worse thrown into grounds, of captains leading their teams off the field to safer parts of the stadium and of fielders patrolling the boundary ropes with helmets to avoid guided missiles from the stands. Such incidents are a result of a misplaced zeal for the game or a sense of frustration at seeing the home team fare poorly - but racism? That's a new one.

The standing ovation that the Pakistani team received at Chepauk in 1999 during its victory lap is still being talked about. The greatest cricketers of the world - Ian Botham, Vivian Richards, and more recently, the likes of Lara and Pieterson - have been the darlings of the crowds here. Even the likes of Miandad and Akram were respected for what they were and what they could do to us on their day.

That's the reason why the allegations of racism in the stands come as a surprise. Why would we do something like that? Most nations with a multiracial population have had to battle the issues of colour - and in cricket, it has been countries like Australia, South Africa and England that have had to tackle racism internally. Other cricketing nations – read Asian - have only been at the receiving end of all the barbs and attacks.

In India, being dark has, for long, seriously impacted marriages and career prospects in showbiz. This colour difference has even led to the north-south divide amongst certain sections of society, which, in sport, has given rise to several controversies relating to matters of selection, captaincy, posts and individual state associations. But never has it coloured the spirit with which spectators have watched the game.

So why did this series become the stage for all the key issues that Australia has been accused of so far? Be it on-field aggression, sledging or racism, seven one-day internationals ended up being the battleground for many concerns that we have never been associated with. And in a fortnight, the idiom 'pot calling the kettle black' virtually became a punctuation mark in all forms of media coverage of the current one day series. Enough and more images were played and replayed to rekindle public memory of Sharad Pawar's gentle send-off by Damien Martyn, of Amla's 'terrorist' epithet by Dean Jones, of McGrath's outburst targeted at Sarwan and of the Aussie crowds heckling every player who wasn't white.

According to Roshan Mahanama, an Australian player once referred to Sanath Jayasuriya as ‘black monkey’. How did the Australian media handle that one? John Rhodes, an ICC official was punched by a spectator in Melbourne because he was ‘accused’ of being South African. Darren Lehmann once referred to the Sri Lankan team using even more derogative language. The penalty? A five-match ban. Shouts of ‘black *****’, ‘kaffirs’ and ‘kaffir boeties’ were rampant in various stadiums during the South African tour in 2006. Reportedly, five spectators were ejected. So much for the power of five.

The fact that almost every country has suffered during a Down Under tour is a fact conveniently forgotten by Australian media as it furiously researches on facts on the 'Hindu monkey god' and of chants in Indian languages. Could this just be the Aussie way of taking the spotlight away from the ruckus that is likely to happen when Sri Lanka (and later India) tours Down Under?

On the field, Murali will be a threat to the Aussie batsmen with his indecipherable turn, but on the other side of the ropes, a horde of Aussie fans will pose a serious threat to him. They will not want him to overtake Warne's record and will possibly do anything to discourage him from doing that. Anything, from a chorus of 'no-ball' every time he comes in to bowl to racist chants. With ample precedents already having been set, attempts to control this crowd will be a near-impossible task. It is a laughable matter when Cricket Australia points to close circuit cameras that will catch people in action if and when they indulge in racist acts. When you can hear the shouts of 'no-ball' miles away from the stadium and yet cannot take on a 50,000-strong crowd, how will close circuit cameras help? Will the Australian authorities be able to take stringent action and forcibly remove a stadium full of people? Will they let a test match be played to empty stands, like we did in 1999?

The only way to get away from under the microscope is to shove something else under it. That's exactly what has happened now. Instead of debates on what is likely to happen in Australia in a few weeks, the cricketing world is agog with news of racism that is rampant across India and how it is doing the Mexican wave across stands in every stadium.

In a way, we helped them along the way in this shift in focus. With the Indians determined to match the Aussie aggression, the Australian team and the media screamed blue murder as they realized what was happening. For a whole week, cricket was forgotten and the sports pages were full of Sreesanth's hostility and Harbhajan's verbal war. That was the perfect opening for a coup. ‘Indian team, sledgers. Indian crowds, racist.’ The theme for the series was complete. And it has been well executed.

Andrew Symonds had fired the first salvo even before the series had begun about how India had gotten 'carried away with its Twenty20 celebrations' and how something had 'sparked inside him'. There could hardly have been a better way to spark off a controversy and provoke a billion-strong cricket following as they celebrated success that was coming their way after 24 long years. Then came those showdowns with Sreesanth, he of the an-eye-for-an-eye, a-stare-for-a-stare fame. Obviously, millions across the country have been following all of it. And have predictably sided with the home side. And so Symonds finds himself isolated for all the comments, catcalls, criticism - and the controversial monkey chants.

The whole Brabourne episode seems like nothing more than the outcome of the media coverage of ‘monkey business’ in the Vadodara match. A handful of spectators wanted to get on camera with what they thought would be a smart thing to do. Obviously they had no idea that for days after, they would still not come off the newspapers and news channels.

“INDIAN fans turned on Australia in Mumbai last night, bombarding all-rounder Andrew Symonds with graphic racial taunts and personal abuse” was how the Herald Sun put it. “A deafening torrent of abuse followed the batsman of the series out to the middle. Many spectators jumped up and down like gorillas, spewed vitriol and made animal noises.” Bombarded with graphic racial taunts. Many spectators jumping up and down like gorillas. Borrowing from Sunil Gavaskar’s comments on Matt Prior who was appealing endlessly during the England series, “Which game were they following?”

Racism is dirty business that only people with coloured minds and delusions of their own superiority indulge in. It is obvious that it has to be cleaned up whenever it rears its ugly head, wherever it is found. Only we are looking for it in the wrong places.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement as 'Spectators will be spectators' on 28 October, 2007)

Great Ball of Fire

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L Suresh looks at the key ingredient that was missing from Indian cricket for a long time – aggression.

A long, long time ago, a fireball exploded, resulting in a 'cosmic explosion' that hurled matter in all directions. And that was how the universe was said to be born. Had this been in a cricket field, it would have taken a Chappell or a Waugh to package it as an Australian phenomenon and coin a catch-phrase like 'concordant annihilation', explaining how eleven Aussies would team up to get on the nerves of a player until he exploded under the pressure. But luckily for the rest of the world, it was not to be and a Belgian called it the Big Bang.

The Big Bang may never be proved, but it has proved to be one heck of an expression to say that sometimes, it takes an extreme step for new life to begin. Such a step invariably shocks and stuns, but it succeeds in calling attention to a problem that no one paid heed to before. The world of cricket has had its own share of Big Bangs - the Bodyline series that led to changes in the laws of cricket, the Basil D'Oliveira affair that put South Africa's apartheid ways in the spotlight and ostracized the country from the cricketing circles, the 1981 underarm ball by Trevor Chappell at the behest of his brother Greg after which it was banned by the ICC, the repeated no-balling of Muralitharan by Darrell Hair that eventually led to the 15 degree rule and of course, Kerry Packer's famous brush with the cricket authorities over telecast rights that led to the birth of World Series Cricket.

Indian cricket has however, managed to stay clear of all these controversies. For a country that is a cauldron of raging passions and volatile temperaments, we have, in the world of cricket, swayed and ducked to steer clear of all bouncers. We played four spinners so we would never be tempted to use the bodyline strategy. We were the first to tour South Africa in 1992-93 for the Friendship Series that ended with us winning friends and the Proteas, the series. We showed that we harboured no ill-feelings towards Chappell by appointing him our coach. We didn’t go up in arms when Harbhajan’s doosra was suspected, despite having witnessed Arjuna Ranatunga’s vocal support of Muralitharan during the Hair episode. And we have witnessed the birth of the ICL, considered by some as a home-grown version of Kerry Packer's League.

Against a setting this pleasant and politically correct comes a youngster who seems to have had enough of trudging to a stadium, getting beaten and trudging back, only to live another day. Unlike the Big Three or the Fab Four or any other combination of battle-scarred veterans who have never held a World Cup in their hands, Shanthakumaran Sreesanth has had a taste of what it takes to be on top of the world – and on top of a double-decker bus. That’s the reason why it’s not difficult to understand his reluctance to go back to the shoulder drooping, losing ways of Indian cricket – after being feted by governments and millions of fans alike.

The recent Twenty20 victory finally gave the Indian cricket fan a reason to justify his excesses as he cheered and backed a team that beat Pakistan, England, South Africa and Australia in the space of a fortnight. In the light of our recent wins, Sreesanth's show of aggression on the field and his display of what the media calls 'unsportsmanlike behaviour' seems more like the reflection of a nation's frustration as we find ourselves slipping back to our old habit of freefall the moment we reach the top. Soon after the Twenty20 World Cup win, Kapil Dev, in one of the news channels, wasted no time in reminding the nation of the humiliation suffered by his team at the hands of the Windies - smarting under their ‘83 World Cup loss, they came at us like a pack of blood-thirsty hounds that was not fed for weeks. 24 years later, as we relive the euphoria of a World Cup, we are hurtling towards the possibility of a similar disaster.

For decades, the Indian cricket fan has been desensitized by the wins and losses of the team and has been conditioned to follow the starry exploits and antics of his idol. For long, India has endured pot-bellied spinners who applauded batsmen as they hoicked them for sixes. For long, we have shamelessly celebrated the odd series win outside home and fondly referred to it for years.

In the last few days, all that seems to have changed. There was positive aggression shown by the Indian team during the Twenty20 World Cup. Quick singles, agile pick and throws, athletic fielding, accurate bowling (16 of our 49 wickets were a result of the batsman being bowled) and of course, the mandatory glares, meaningful exchanges and the verbal volleys – the Indian team did everything right to flash the message across that they meant business. Flintoff would have regretted ever having picked a bone with Yuvraj that fateful evening – moments later, Yuvraj would let it inspire him to break loose in what would be known for long as that one over of mayhem.

So suddenly, records, tons and runs aren’t so important. Experience can be jettisoned, according to the Chairman of the Selectors. Indian cricket's all about Yuvraj's sixes, Dhoni's cool demeanour, R P Singh's swing, Rohit Sharma's late assault - and of course, Sreesanth's aggression.

Of the lot, the last mentioned has been castigated as the bane of Indian cricket today. To start with, everyone who thinks so should be forced to watch reruns of matches featuring India in the 90s when the team featured shy pacers who would have stared at their shoes for such a major part of their playing career that they could have bored holes through them for the big toe to pop out. Drooping shoulders, exasperated looks alternated with a grimace, a feeling of relief than that of celebration at the fall of a wicket - and zero batting and fielding abilities was the package we had to live with.

In a different era and in a different game, two men set trends through the manner in which they approached the game. Both played to win, but the manner in which they went about it gave relief to a million writers who were still fumbling with clichéd phrases - like chalk and cheese, black and white, and day and night - that described diametrically opposite forces. So, there was the Ivan Lendl kind of game - play hard and play to win. Enter the nearest phone booth before the start of every match, dish out some superhero stuff in quiet confidence and once the job is done, go back to being mortal - until the next match begins. And then there was the John McEnroe style of playing – the glam boy image of Rocky Balboa, the flair of Pele and the aggression of a Muhammad Ali, all rolled into one. Strut it out, and amidst all the euphoria and adulation, churn out a remarkable victory.

It’s obvious that the Aussies have preferred the second route, but you have to give it to them to package everything with a rationale and a buzzword that sounds like a cross between a management mantra and a scientific process. So blatant sledging would become mental disintegration and with that christening, it gets pulled out of the hooligan's dictionary and enters the intelligent cricketer's vocabulary because it's no longer verbal warfare, but a well-thought out gameplan.

Ricky Ponting has not only commented on the recent ‘verbal warfare’ on the field, but has also permitted himself to present a white paper on Indian behaviour - on how the Indians were not playing true to character. Symonds, not to be left out, decided to get riled about the Indians going overboard in their celebrations post the Twenty20 victory, contrasting the same with the humble way in which the Aussies celebrated. All one can say is that Symonds probably never had to fix broken panes or worry about the safety of his family after a loss. Neither will he know what it feels like to win a major tournament after 24 years.

As a nation, we are an emotional lot, not given to subtleties. And that comes as part of the whole package, whether one likes it or not. Every show of emotion, every celebration, is over the top. That could be the reason why shaking hands after a wicket and smiling at the batsman after beating him all ends up, is most certainly not an Indian trait, but possibly the remnants of a colonial hangover.

However, aggression is not about scowling, abusing and making faces – more often, it is a manifestation of pumped up adrenalin. As seen in the Twenty20 tournament, it can make all the difference between a player with 10,000 runs under his belt and one who is just a few matches old. It is that charged up feeling that can make the young play without fear. It is that sporty fuel, the lack of which can make the old buckle down under the weight of their battle scars. Before we get into evolved concepts like refined aggression, we need to first find signs of it in the Indian team. And that’s the reason why Sreesanth is in the spotlight.

Everybody would be quick to agree Sreesanth’s show of emotions, his attempt to run Symonds out when the ball was not in play and his send off as Symonds departed wasn’t quite in keeping with the game. But when you are up against the world’s best team, when you are facing a team that can’t do its playing without its talking, it is important to have your own show of might and aggression. Sreesanth’s behaviour could be uncalled for, but it could also the much-needed outburst that might open the floodgates of emotions for the men in blue. The episode may just end in Sreesanth being disciplined in some way – he was already out of the fourth one-dayer, but on the positive side, it may just send the message to both the Indian camp - that there's no need to fear the might of the Aussies - and to the opposition that the Indians are no longer pushovers.

So what we don’t mind is a bit of aggression. What we don’t care about is the banter. But what we certainly want are the wins.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement as 'Ball Temper' on 14 October, 2007)

Heck, I'm a Dad!

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L Suresh profiles the single-most crucial event in a man’s life.

Becoming a Dad is always a toughie – it’s that genetic download that kick-starts the process of evolution, from an irresponsible husband to an irresponsible father. It’s tough and it will generally take time, but what the heck, you have a lifetime to practice and perfect.

It doesn’t take much time for the euphoria to die down for a just-become-Dad. If hospital bills don’t do the trick, truckloads of free advice will. Minutes after the baby is born, hordes of relatives rush into your life. Years later, they still refuse to go. Besides offering the mother moral support and the baby gifts, they save their best for you – advice. This ranges from lengthy narrations of their experiences of fatherhood (when your aunt has already told you that they were not in town when their kid was born) to ingenious ways of keeping the evil forces away from the little one (when you start having nightmares of an elderly uncle in Darth Vader’s armour and mask, standing guard over your kid and grating, “may the force not be with you”.)

But the unkindest cut of all is having to listen to your classmates, colleagues and friends who are probably as old as you are, but have beaten you to becoming a Dad. So, when you hear the “welcome to the world of sleepless nights” for the 100^th time, you’re ready to do whatever it takes to make them rest in peace – forever.

At least the baby in focus will have nothing to say. But here’s the bad news - he/she will make faces that tell a lot. For instance:

Expression #1: A fixed gaze that follows you wherever you go. That’s the “now how do I fit this guy into my life” stare.

Expression #2: A little smile. It’s the “you don’t even know what you’re in for, buster’” look. This one scares the hell out of most dads.

Expression #3: The faraway look with the head turned. (Almost as if he/she were trying to recall something.) That’s the “now what were the choices that I got for Dad? Where did I go wrong?” look.

Expression #4: An inclined head with mouth open. The angle of inclination of the head will indicate the direction in which the baby wants to be fed. So, if you have nervous aunts who scream, “Hold the head, hold the head, it’s slipping”, assure them that it’s not. The kid’s merely gesturing that he/she’ll have the 9 ‘o’ clock feed north by northwest.

Expression #5: The eyebrow raised, bubble-blowing expression. This is reserved for visitors who insist on ‘getting physical’ with the baby and could mean anything from go fly a kite, go climb a tree to go blow a bubble. The expressions differ, but the essence of what is being said generally remains the same.

Expression #6: The poker faced expression. This is reserved for moments when the baby is extremely happy. This is the “never show your Dad how much you like something. He might just use it to get you to do the things he wants you to do” look. Now you know where babies get their survival instincts from.

Expression #7: Da-da do-do. The first words your kid speaks. Honestly, it could mean anything from “Dad, I need to do potty” to “My Dad’s a dodo”. But once your kid gets here, you know that he/she is ready to talk.

Get ready for more advice – from a one-year old.

Happy parenting.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 07 October, 2007)

The Fast Fest

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L Suresh looks at the latest version of cricket – marketed in a sachet pack.

Year after year, players from across the world scream blue murder when the itinerary for the forthcoming season is released. And year after year, the ICC and the Boards miss no opportunity in giving the golden goose a vigourous shake, just to see if they have missed out another golden egg that could be hiding in there, somewhere. The 1975 World Cup was a masterstroke - it took four years and 18 one-day internationals for the ICC to decide on one of the game’s biggest money-spinners. And now, half that time and after 17 Twenty20 matches, the stage is set for the first ever Twenty20 World Cup.

For the first time in the history of a major cricket tournament, the buzz that has been created is not about the stars who are going to battle each other, but about those who have been kept out for a host of reasons. As always, India took the lead in the matter, when Sachin, Sourav and Dravid were 'asked to be left out'. That was just the curtain raiser - the drama followed soon. Sachin was reportedly miffed with Dravid at not being consulted over this decision. Sourav was quoted by the news channels as being disappointed that he couldn't represent India in the Twenty20 World Cup. Dravid, at his usual political best, tried to underplay the issue by stating the obvious - that things had been quoted out of context. Other minor bombshells included promoting Dhoni ahead of Yuvraj as the team captain and the omission of new improved Zaheer Khan, whose Version 2.0 includes a thinking cricketer as part of the package. But these were damp squibs in front of the bigger fireworks.

What fires here explodes there - and soon enough, across the border, pandemonium broke out when leading stars were left out of the squad. Abdul Razzaq, the one-day specialist and Mohammad Yousuf, the bearded, helmeted version of the Viking who had just returned with a sackful of runs he had pillaged from England, found themselves out of the team. And in their place came players with little or no experience - Misbah-ul-Haq, Abdur Rehman and Fawad Alam.

Surprisingly, South Africa, the team that always believed in playing its best players (if you ignore its quota system, that is) chose to omit Kallis, considered by his peers as one of the best allrounders in the present era. The reason given by the Board was a crowded schedule - if that were true, then why was he part of the provisional 30-man squad selected for the tournament and that, as vice-captain? Obviously, something was not right and the man who saw through it and spoke out got into trouble himself. The Board wasted no time in reprimanding Boucher that chatter was best reserved for behind the stumps and not in front of the media.

Meanwhile, England had no problems with keeping their stars out. Injury was taking care of that. (The latest casualties being Flintoff and Ravi ‘Sachin’ Bopara, who could be missing out on the tournament.) The Kiwis have lost their ace players too - Fleming, Cairns, Chris Harris and Nathan Astle are expected to make a beeline for the ICL after they've decided to let national cricket carry on without them.

As in every tournament, Australia looks to be firm favourites in this third version of the game as well and one can only hope for some resistance from teams that have posed a semblance of a threat to them in the recent past - West Indies and Sri Lanka. Both teams came up against their nemesis in the finals of the Champions Trophy and the World Cup respectively - and both were found wanting as they were outplayed in the opening overs of the game. There's yet another similarity to both sides, in that they both rely heavily on their explosive openers - Gayle and Jayasuriya - to provide them with a good start. And should they fail, the rest of the team will be no match for the men in yellow.

Australia will miss some of its key players for sure - Ponting looks all set to give the tournament a miss, and they're already without McGrath, Shane Warne, Damien Martyn and Shaun Tait. The fact that they are still considered favorites shows not only their bench strength, but also their ability to adapt to any condition, any form of the game and to any combination of players, regardless of who's in the team and who's not. The fast bowling department currently resembles a Mumbai Fast Local, with players desperately pushing and jostling to get in. The good news for the team is that Brett Lee is finally ready for action, with his 145 kmph toe-crushers. The good news for other teams is that he will be allowed to bowl only four overs per game.

Despite being far ahead of the pack, Australia has been the only side thus far to have had a special camp - at least for the bowlers, as Troy Cooley went about developing new strategies for bowling in such short duration matches. South Africa spent its time pounding a lifeless Zimbabwe, Pakistan decided that it was the opportune moment to take on Bangladesh and India and England busied themselves with a one-day series that could have been dubbed 'Biggest Loser Jeetega' (Biggest loser wins). If India's bowling and fielding matches the lowlife form that it currently maintains on a regular basis, there's hardly any chance of us getting past Scotland.

The fact that India will be playing without its big guns doesn’t seem to be bothering anyone, except possibly the sponsors. After the World Cup debacle, the blue billion has chosen to believe in the fatalistic interpretation of the philosophy of the PGA Tour – ‘Anything’s Possible’. On the brighter side, all those who have been advocating for a younger team will now get one. And perhaps a few debates can be settled for good. Like exactly how valuable are Sachin, Sourav and Rahul to the team, or will India do well to hedge its bets on youth than experience.

But another terrific trio who had offered India the best of youth and experience not too long ago find themselves in the wilderness and will be waiting for an opportunity to redeem themselves. Folklore has it that Charlie Chaplin once won the third prize in a Chaplin-lookalike contest when he came in as himself, the first prize going to someone else dressed as him. Virender Sehwag, Harbhajan Singh and Irfan Pathan will know how the world’s funniest man felt, with makeshift openers like Dinesh Karthik, makeshift spinners like Sachin and Yuvraj and makeshift allrounders like Sourav blocking them out in different versions of the game.

Ironically, despite that sinking feeling that the fans share as India sets forth to the first ever edition of this tournament, the fact remains that the team is at the top of the pile, if one were to set Twenty20 rankings for the eleven teams that have played the game officially. One match played, one won – and so India has a 100% track record, one that it shares with Bangladesh. England, South Africa and the West Indies have lost more matches than they have won, while Australia, Sri Lanka and New Zealand have experienced the unpredictability of this slam-bang contest.

Back home, there has been some effort towards organizing an inter-state Twenty20 tournament in the country. But as with most other initiatives – like the Challenger Series and other India A matches – it ended up being a farce. The selectors, who were in full attendance for the finals played between Tamil Nadu and Punjab, obviously misread the quote ‘the winner takes it all’ as ‘the winner is not taken at all’ – not one member from the winning team found his way into the national side.

While team selection, omissions and injuries have taken away the limelight from the tournament, it is also debatable if all the teams are taking this version of cricket seriously. The Kiwis, in their first match against Australia in 2005, seemed to take more interest in their weird facial hair and weirder hairdos to complement their 80s look uniforms, than in the game. The Aussies meanwhile, have experimented with their names, replacing them with their nicknames on the back of their shirts. (Imagine a champagne-filled moment of the Twenty20 World Cup winning team splashed in the sports pages with a caption that reads, ‘From left to right: Church, Stickers, Bear, Hilfy, Catfish, Notch, Binga, Andy G, Roy, Punter, Huss and Haydos.) You can bet your last can of Fosters that the men from Down Under don’t hold this game in high esteem. They are not to be blamed – anyone who can suffer the ignominy of a 100-run loss to England in a Twenty20 game and yet live to tell the tale will be expected to show signs of quirkiness.

But Twenty20 is a great leveller, more so than a one-dayer. If Bangladesh and Ireland could beat India and Pakistan in the World Cup, the Twenty20 could see anyone from Zimbabwe to Scotland take on any of the mighty teams of the world. As in the World Cup, one wrong move could well see India out of the tournament. In some corner of the world, Greg Chappell will be watching India’s progress keenly. This was what he had always advocated – an India shorn of its aging warriors and anointed messiahs who have been offered lifetime membership to the team. The moment of reckoning is fast approaching. And at 20 overs a side, it’s not likely to last long.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 09 September, 2007)

The Challengers

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The ICL may not turn out to be a success, but it has given the BCCI a wake-up call. L Suresh reports.

They said it wouldn’t be able to find enough players. 51 players were signed up. They said the stars wouldn’t be a part of it. Everyone from Brian Lara to Glenn McGrath, Peter Fleming and Inzamam-ul-Haq are being spoken about. They said Twenty20 was a young man’s game and only retired veterans were joining in. 20-somethings like Ambati Rayudu and heaps of players from Bengal and Hyderabad leaped into the fray. They said it would fail to attract international class. Mohammad Yousuf, Chris Cairns, Nathan Astle – class really doesn’t get better than that. They said that the state cricket associations would not provide grounds for matches. Laloo Prasad and the West Bengal Government promptly threw open the Railways grounds and the Eden Gardens respectively.

They further assumed that there wouldn’t be enough sponsorships. The Sahara Group and Bisleri have already evinced interest in sponsoring teams and tournaments. Chennai’s Mayajaal has been identified as a coaching venue. Sandeep Patil and Pranab Roy have already been signed on as coaches and John Buchanan, if he agrees to come on board, could well be the star who could dwarf the best of cricketers. Kapil Dev, Kiran More and Prasanna have taken on the mantle of top management. Zee Sports and Dish TV are all set to relay the matches across the country.

So there you have it. For the first time since the inception of Indian cricket, the BCCI finds itself in a scrap – and for the first time, it has nothing to do with telecast rights or an election. It’s too early to speculate how this battle will turn out to be – a Hercules vs Atlas clash of the Titans or an Alien vs Predator rumble of the monsters.

Forget the World Cup, the Ashes, the Indo-Pak encounters and the Twenty20 matches, this is the real thing. The bash up between two giants, both of whom live in palatial homes with backyards where money grows on trees.

It is ironical that the Twenty20 tournament has proved to be both cause and effect in this spectacle. It was for the Twenty20 World Cup that most countries chose to overlook their star players and a good lot of them ended up joining the ICL – to play the Twenty20. The debacle could have easily been avoided if only the Boards had called in the omitted players and explained to them their new-found policy of grooming young talent through the shorter version of the game. But for long, cricket administration has been, quoting MTV’s fillers – one’s father’s ancestral property, and for many years, players have had to contend with learning about their omission from the media. Not any longer. The players finally have a place besides home (or the neighbourhood pub) to go back to if they don’t find themselves in the team. There is the ICL.

A short audio visual of the scrap-up so far would be best edited to a sound track of ‘Can’t stop this thing we started’ by Bryan Adams. ICL fired the first salvo and it has hit the BCCI where it hurts most – its hugely inflated ego. Now there’s no going back for either party. With the kind of money pumped in, with the kind of contracts being offered, walking away from the battlefield is no longer an option, unless one sees the next set of punches being exchanged in the court of law.

And that too has happened. The ICL has gone to court with a simple question – who is the BCCI to go around telling the public at large that it is the official representation of India? In fact, the BCCI had absolved itself in an earlier case involving the Zee telecast rights by claiming to be a private body and only answerable to its members. Furthermore, it has also gone on record that the team represents the BCCI, and not India.

Records state that the players employed by the BCCI are ‘employees of a private society registered as an association under Tamil Nadu's Society Registration Act of 1860’. This association is affiliated to a limited company – the ICC - registered in British Virgin Islands. Well, as people once used to say about a typical Bradman innings, “this one is not going to end in a hurry.”

If there’s one thing that the emergence of the ICL has successfully accomplished, it is a shake-up - of the cricket system, the age old policies of governance and the oligarchic control of the game by a body comprising members who have little or nothing to do with cricket. While the ICL may not have got its choice of players, with McGrath, Warne, Fleming, Shoaib Akthar, Mohammad Asif, Boucher, Langer and Damien Martyn either undecided or having refused lucrative offers, it sure has created a strong foundation for itself with big names for the behind-the-scenes activities - Kapil Dev, the biggest influence in Indian cricket besides Gavaskar, Tony Greig the expert on breakaway leagues thanks to his precious experience with Kerry Packer, Dean Jones, the man with as many contacts in Asia as he has in Australia, and the wisdom and experience of Erapalli Prasanna.

So let’s announce the challenger and the crown holder. On the left, weighing years of experience in international cricket are Messrs. Kapil Dev, Tony Greig, Dean Jones and Prasanna. And on the right, weighed down by their zones, factions, political strife, farcical elections and gargantuan money bags are, err… a bunch of gentlemen whose closest brush with cricket was when they passed a TV when a live telecast was on. No competition, you would say?

But the extent to which the ICL may succeed can be gauged by the tremors felt at the BCCI. The knee-jerk reactions have already begun and in what is likely to be a bonanza for long-forgotten state players, domestic fees have gone up. The prize money for domestic tournaments is also going up exponentially. A Twenty20 format – the Professional Cricket League - has been quickly assembled to counter ICL’s Twenty20. Even as his son Rohan is contemplating joining the ICL, Gavaskar Sr. has been put in charge of BCCI’s version of the hit-and-run game, a move touted by news channels as reviving the infamous Gavaskar-Kapil Dev rivalry.

Sounds good, but isn’t someone missing a point here? With groans of aches and pains and injuries and overcrowded schedules, it is more than likely that key players from most countries will give such jamborees a miss. If that happens, we are back to a virtual replica of the ICL Twenty20, with out-of-work and out-of-action players battling it out. One up? More likely that it’s one more.

Honestly speaking, the ICL is yet to take off and has a long way to go before it can achieve the status that BCCI has reached in the country. But by such exaggerated reactions to the new-found league, the BCCI is actually making it out to be stronger than it actually is. Players currently in circulation are being banned for joining the ICL while those who have retired are being banished from their respective state associations. (Of course, in all its benevolence, the BCCI is also being rumoured to be offering a ‘full pardon’ to those players who are willing to do the u-turn and come back into its fold.)

The contenders have already been labeled the ‘rebel team’ and the ICL has already pointed out that BCCI’s team is not the ‘official’ one. It would be interesting to witness a situation when a Twenty20 gets incorporated into the Olympics or the Commonwealth and India has to send an official team. So which would be the real Team India?

Meanwhile, state associations have been ‘actively discouraged’ from allowing their grounds or infrastructure to be used by the ICL for training or for conducting matches. And of course, the biggest gaffe of them all, one that is likely to backfire in the BCCI – the shoddy treatment of Kapil Dev.

While one can celebrate the Hazares, the Merchants, the spin quartet and the Gavaskars of Indian cricket, it is beyond doubt that Kapil Dev has single-handedly brought India to that turning point in life when cricket began to be taken seriously by fans and marketers alike. To a drowning soul clutching at straws, the 1983 Prudential World Cup came in like a Baywatch lifeguard, not just saving millions of Indians who, after decades of defeats, were fast sinking into depression, but also glamourising a game that suddenly gave its players star status.

The NCA Chairman’s Post, the assorted memberships and the meager pension is chicken feed – the loss of which should leave Kapil completely unperturbed. What he should do now is dare the BCCI to wipe out his contribution from their records. 687 international wickets, the famous 1986 series win in England, his fabulous 175 against Zimbabwe and that crowning glory – the Prudential World Cup. In a decade, he notched up half of India’s most memorable moments over a hundred years. Will the BCCI delete these little entries from their columns?

If the BCCI sat back and reflected on the turn of events, it would realize that its contracted players, barring a couple, have a lot going for them in their current avatar. Besides graded payments, their endorsements, business interests and other lucrative means of income keep them all above board when the wave of greed sweeps across. In effect, it would only be the fringe players who would ‘defect’ and that wouldn’t be a bad thing at all. Not only would it give a look-in at younger talent, but it would also clear the air of the musty lot who are not getting anywhere in life.

Cricket has seen much worse in terms of an exodus of talent. The rebel teams to South Africa, the Packer’s Series and even the recent mass boycott of the West Indian team for the IndianOil Cup in Sri Lanka – Boards have had to contend with far greater damage-control measures. Which is why it is laughable to see the BCCI break into a sweat even before a ball has been bowled. In fact, hourly updates on the goings-on are making it difficult to find out what exactly is the latest on this long-drawn soap. But one thing is for sure - ICL, BCCI, NCA or KSCA, the cricket fans will be LOL (Laughing Out Loud).

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 02 September, 2007)

Testament to a lost cause

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

The 22^nd James Bond film, the 2011 Cricket World Cup and the 200^th thriller that deals with uncovering an earth-shattering truth from the past that could change the future of Planet Earth, all have something in common – we know what’s going to happen next, where the story is headed and who’s going to win in the end. If there’s one thing we want to find out, it’s the how.

But even that question doesn’t need answering in The Last Testament and what could have been a joyride ends up being a bumpy journey from a coverline that touts the author as the biggest challenger to Dan Brown’s crown, to Page 567, where the acknowledgements end (that make better reading than the rest of the book).

If an obvious reference to Dan Brown and an obvious take on the celebrated fiction hero Jason Bourne (and hence the pseudonym Sam Bourne) were not enough, The Last Testament suffers from an obvious plot that every Dan Brown book has. Unconnected happenings that spark a revelation. Man and woman on the run across time zones as they are closing in on a piece of history and are being hunted down by the evil forces. Suspects turning up innocent, the innocent ending up becoming suspects – and the book zips towards a happy ending. (A quick glance of the synopsis of The Righteous Men, Bourne’s first book, would tell you that it’s no different – thus leading you to the conclusion that in thrillers that deal with the past, history may not repeat itself, but the plot does.)

Much as Dan Brown is criticized for his overdramatization and historical inaccuracies, it can never be disputed that he did a great job in blending fact and fiction to an extend that one lost the ability to distinguish between the real and the make-believe. In an attempt to hitch his wagon to a star, Sam Bourne has flattered Brown by modeling his characters, plot and historical references on the latter’s books. The effort wasn’t just worth it. Nor is the outcome.

With the Holy Grail, the Vatican, King Arthur’s sword, the Ark and the Shroud of Turin all having being taken up by other authors, we head towards Jerusalem as the peace talks are on between Israel and Palestine. With two of the most dynamic sects in the fray and with the US trying to mediate, this could have been one heck of an action story, like an Alistair McLean’s made-for-movies screenplay novel.

But not to be. Nations at war, world peace at stake, dramatic chases across continents – and yet, the responsibility of saving the planet rest on the shoulders of one man (or woman). If you’ve promised yourself that you would scream if you find this construct in yet another book, then close all doors and windows and get ready for the lung exercise as you pick up The Last Testament. After years of Superman comics and Spiderman cartoons, you didn’t mind it if the protagonist happened to be a caped crusader, but pulling a retired pro with a dysfunctional personal life into the thick of action for the world’s most mystifying secret to be unearthed comes like a hiss of stale air that has just escaped from a 5000 year tomb.

Any novel worth its glossy paperback would have two dozen key characters who would be hopping and skipping across four continents and 56 countries till you’re left wondering who’s where and why they got there. The Last Testament tests your patience further by yo-yoing between ‘the previous Monday’ and ‘two weeks earlier’ until you are left scratching your head about the date and time that the current page is located in. And the huge bouquet of Arab and Israeli characters and names don’t make things any easier. That’s when you think that this could make a good e-book, with cross-links and hot words that could open blurbs or take us back to an earlier reference to the person.

As you put down the book, the mind picks up the game of anagrams and riddles that the story dabbles in and suddenly you get a flash – perhaps The Last Testament was meant to tell you that you were ‘At The Mental Tests’.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 26 August, 2007)

The English Sunset

(Image courtesy: New Indian Express)

It may be their last English summer. But it sure won’t be their best. L Suresh reports on India’s most celebrated trio.

“We're on a runaway train
Rolling down the track
And where it's taking us to
Who knows where it's at
But if we hold together
We can make it back
For an English sunset
We want an English sunset.”

- from the song English Sunset, by The Moody Blues

You don’t need to do much to have an English summer go all wrong. There’s the batty English weather with the cloudy mornings, the rainy afternoons and the sunny evenings. There’s the strange but celebrated Lord’s slope. There’s the seriously straitjacketed Lord’s crowd that comes from a different planet when compared to the football hooligans. Once you have mastered the crowds, the climate and the conditions, you get to face the giants - the strapping six-foot something quicks who emerge from different counties, wreck havoc and go back nursing an injury.

In the middle of all this, three men will be hoping for sunshine and champagne in what will most likely be their last English summer. The first Test was all about the exploits of one man who showed the other 21 batsmen how to bat on this wicket. And of course, some rookie bowlers who ran through the opposition with alarming regularity. So Sachin Tendulkar, Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid will now have to figure out what needs to be done to salvage individual pride and team honour, in what remains of this series.

Introspection would be a good way to begin. If the cumulative experience of 339 Tests, 74 tons and 25,851 runs couldn’t help post a decent total and if the team still had to summon its tail to play off 55 overs of the Test match to avoid defeat, there’s a lot to think about. But it didn’t begin this way. It was a brighter English August, seventeen summers ago.

1990. India in England. Graham Gooch’s 333 and Kapil Dev’s four consecutive sixes had set the stands on fire in the first Test. But the second Test was when a young Sachin would make his first hundred. There would be 36 more in the next 17 years, but more importantly, the next time he toured England, he would be joined by the Gemini twins – a left hander and a right hander who would share his liking for English bowlers in typical English conditions. That was the 1996 tour, where Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid lorded over the English team with the celebrated ‘wristy’ shots that all good Indian batsmen were known for and elegant drives. Of course, it had to be at the holy grounds of the game - the Lord’s, with its archaic sight screen and without its gargantuan space age media box.

From thereon, the threesome gave England something to think about, besides a nation’s fading dreams of the Ashes urn. Thus began a series of historic Robin Hood road shows, when they plundered runs across different grounds in England. The third test of the tour at Trent Bridge, Nottingham saw the trio pillage runs (Ganguly 136, Tendulkar 177, Dravid 84) with such fervour that the ECB would have been tempted to send an SOS to the Sheriff of Nottingham.

And that was only the beginning. In the next series in 2002, the awesome threesome came back to Nottingham and notched up 300 amongst them (Dravid 115, Tendulkar 92, Ganguly 99). Then came that historic Test in Leeds where the trio cracked hundreds. At 628 for 8 declared and a 4-66 by Kumble in the second innings, England tasted the power of the mighty three - and an innings defeat. The fourth test witnessed a double hundred by Dravid and fifties by Tendulkar and Ganguly. The series was drawn, but it was a moral victory for the Indians.

But such tales of valour and exhilaration seem to date back to a distant past. Today, the Indian team resembles a runaway train, hurtling into a 3-test tunnel, not knowing if there would be light at the end of it. Somewhere in the darkness stands an embarrassing tome of individual exploits. And in a quiet corner, shameful reminders of an overseas series win, decades ago.

To add to the bleak weather and the dreary moods is the drab form of the mighty trio, struggling to take on a rookie English attack. With the renowned quartet of Flintoff, Harmison, Simon Jones and Hoggard missing in action, the series was touted as a battle of the willow - Sachin, Sourav and Dravid on one side and Pieterson, Vaughan and Strauss on the other. While Pieterson has already established why he is one of the world's best batsmen, India’s illustrious middle order has some way to go before it can convince us that it is worth all those records, endorsements and adulation it is currently receiving.

What the current bunch of English quicks lacks in experience, it seems to make up in height. Suddenly, the ‘ups and downs’ of the English fast bowlers seem to have taken on a whole new meaning to the Indian batsmen. Look 'up' as the ball is delivered from around 12 feet above ground. And look 'down' as the ball pitches short of good length and rears up towards helmet grill. Check this list: Christ Tremlett (6’7”), Stuart Broad (6'5"), Ryan Sidebottom (6'4"), Liam Plunkett (6'3") and James Anderson (6'2"). As for sick bay celebrities, Steve Harmison (6'4"), Andrew Flintoff (6’4"), Simon Jones (6’3") and Matthew Hoggard (6'2") aren’t exactly vertically challenged. Even the lone spinner who was seen bowling bouncers to the Windies comes at a height of 6'1".

Someday, Indian batsmen will realise the importance of keeping a scoreboard ticking and not getting into a shell. There are 90 overs a day and six balls per over - even the mighty Sachin, Sourav and Rahul cannot kid themselves that they can occupy the crease for this duration, blocking ball after ball. The world has chewed its fingernails in frustration and watched the disastrous results of such efforts time and again - the Bangalore Test against Pakistan and in the Mumbai Test against England in 2005, and in the Cape Town Test against South Africa in 2007 being a few notorious examples.

Set a target of 383 to win in the Bangalore Test, Sachin’s 16 off 98 balls was an innings that looked like he was playing out time. While he crawled to his score, Pakistan raced ahead to a victory, thus squaring the series. Somewhere in the score books are also mentions of Sourav and Rahul having managed 18 between them, off 78 balls.

A few months later, the Wankhede Stadium - the ground that had seen that landmine of a pitch and a controversial two and a half day Test match against Australia - would witness yet another meek Indian capitulation as the home team, led by Dravid's 9 off 60 balls, would collapse to the wiles of a little-known English spinner, Shaun Udal. He would pick 4 for 14 off 9.2 overs, while India would collectively go on to score a 100. The result - England won the match and squared the series.

Travel a couple of years into the future, to 2007. The occasion, the third test against South Africa in Cape Town. After failing to chase a target of 354 runs and having succumbed meekly to Ntini and Nel in the second test, India went into the third test in a bid to salvage lost pride. 414 in the first innings, a lead of 41 over South Africa and one hoped India would win the test and the series. It was not to be. After ghastly sights of Sachin fumbling around for a paltry 14 off 62 balls against the likes of Paul Harris, India puffed and panted to 169 off 64 overs, leaving South Africa to walk away with the honours.

India’s biggest loss in these matches was not just the fact that the team was defeated in its backyard. The insult that followed the injury was hard to swallow. Dravid was always known as a grafter and Sourav was regularly being targeted even by club teams for his deficiency against anything directed towards ribs or above, but for the first time in his career, Sachin had aspersions cast at his failing batting skills, his weakness against left-arm spin and his sudden ‘fear’ of the short pitched delivery. Little-known bowlers like Udal, Harris and the emerging Monty Panesar were having their tails up when bowling to one of the world’s best batsmen – and were coming up tops in every encounter.

Not for nothing has it been said that being Sachin Tendulkar isn’t easy. That old cliché about putting a price on one’s wicket matters more in his case than with any other batsman in the world. Because, any delivery that gets him out is touted as the ball of the match. Any bowler who bags his wicket is considered an emerging talent. Such appellations should be used sparingly and after much thought – and only Sachin can ensure this, by not getting out the way he did in the first Test to Panesar, for starters.

So, contrary to popular belief, India's problem in crunch situations is not its inexperienced pace attack, but its legendary batting line up. While batsmen the world over play themselves in, Indian batsmen end up digging deep - at first you think it is a trench from where they are going to fight and then you realise with horror that it's actually a deep, dark hole from which they are never going to emerge.

The exploits of Damien Martyn and Gillespie in the Chennai Test in 2004 and of Kamran Akmal and Abdul Razzaq in the Chandigarh Test in 2005 are two sparkling instances of resilience, of staying forever at the crease and of keeping the scorers busy. Each of these was a partnership that saved the day for their team and took them to a position of strength. There was a time when Sehwag brought in a whiff of fresh air with his one-day approach to Test cricket. On the final day of the rain-affected Chennai Test against Australia, probably the only reason why we were in the game when 229 was needed for a win was his presence at the crease.

But he’s not around. Neither is the aura of the famed trio. So there we have it. Tendulkar vs Panesar. Ganguly vs Anderson. Dravid vs Sidebottom. The most uneven of contests one can ever see. And we may still lose the fight.

England has been special to all three batsmen – all the more reason to agonise about the travails of the threesome when its time to bid adieu. But there’s one important thing they need to realise before it’s too late - if they are looking forward to a memorable farewell, they need to organize it themselves.

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement on 29 July, 2007)

Where angels fear to tread...

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The hysteria around the Indian coach’s selection. And the hysterical laughter that followed. L Suresh reports…

Soaps on TV take generation leaps, reality shows introduce racist bias, talent hunts have judges fight each other, news channels run SMS contests, the BCCI goes on a man hunt. That's the answer to the question, "What do power centers (read production houses and self-styled committees) do to grab the attention of the whole nation?"

While the rest have met with varying degrees of success, the BCCI's efforts have, to this day, offered so much comic relief to the game that the men in power could well call themselves the Billionaires Comic Capers Inc. Noodle straps, bimbettes and tarot card readers are no longer needed to inject the 'entertainment quotient' to a game that has its off-the-field exploits grabbing more media space than its on-field activities.

Think of it as an Abbott and Costello show, where the radio’s funniest duo, Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, exchange rapid-fire questions and answers. “What do you do when an Aussie coach has had very little success and when half the nation is baying for an Indian coach?” “You contact another Aussie coach from Bangladesh.” “What do you do when a little-known coach like Graham Ford is pulled into the circus tent and asked to perform a song-and-dance routine with the laptop?” “You pull another name like John Emburey with even less coaching experience than his competitor.” “What do you do when at 54, a potential coach is rejected as being too old to be coaching the Indian team?” “You hire a man almost 20 years older as the manager of the Indian team.” “What do you do when a contestant to the position of coach is very enthusiastic about being the Indian coach?” “You disqualify him saying that he showed too much enthusiasm.” This is of course, BCCI’s take on the old employee motivation poster that reads 'If you are not fired with enthusiasm, you will be FIRED with enthusiasm.’ BCCI’s version reads 'If you're all fired with enthusiasm, you will be FIRED with all enthusiasm.'

There is a certain novelty value in that last reason - it's a first of its kind. Since it came from the BCCI and had senior players involved in the process, we shall assume that the thought has some merit to it and attempt to extend it to associated spheres of the game. So we can now have youngsters not being selected for the Indian team because they were found to be overenthusiastic to get into the team. We could have public not allowed into stadiums because they were overenthusiastic about watching the match. We could have sponsors being rejected for being overenthusiastic about sponsoring a series or television channels being shut out for overbidding for telecast rights… Hold it. Even the BCCI doesn't get that funny.

The very fact that the BCCI is plumbing the depths amongst little-known coaches to find a replacement for Chappell clearly indicates two issues – one, nobody in his right frame of mind is interested in being the coach of the Indian team. Suddenly coaching counties, university teams and under-15 academies seem to be more enjoyable a prospect than coaching a national team – a job that was reported to have come with a crore a year package the last time around. Even that epitome of tolerance, John Wright, has decided that once was enough. Elsewhere, the impossible has started happening – Smriti Irani has finally decided to stop playing Tulsi and England have at last found a match-winning spinner. But our search goes on…

The second key issue is that the Greg Chappell episode presents different views from the inside and the outside. Graham Ford's decision not to accept the position of coach for the Indian team highlights this great divide. Not only has it exposed the pathetic way in which the whole issue has been handled, but it has also brought to light the several camps that exist amongst the ex-players who were given the task of short-listing and selecting the coach.

While we have ostracized Chappell, exonerated our star players and pretended that the team’s failures are now a thing of the past, the world outside looks at the Indian team as a lost cause, a deep-rooted problem that’s beyond redemption. While we have filed away the incident as the failure of a head-strong coach who couldn't scale the heights his predecessor did, the cricketing fraternity saw a flawed system that was completely corrupted with absolute power, overflowing coffers, powermongers, politicized factions and selfish star players. We blamed the individual, but they pointed a finger at the system.

If the system was flawed, how on earth did John Wright manage a greater degree of success under similar conditions? The victory in Pakistan, the drawn series in Australia, a place in the finals of the 2003 World Cup - surely no other coach had achieved so much? The answer to this question is pretty much the same as the one to the rhetorical question posed by most ex-players when they are asked about a coach - if the Indian team could win the Prudential World Cup in 1983 without a coach, why does the current team make such a hue and cry over it?

Different times and different people call for different measures. John Wright was, to use politically correct terminology, a man who understood ‘how the Indian system worked’. In other words, if his superstar players threw a tantrum, did not follow the training regimen or the team's game plan in the course of a match, he wouldn't take them to task. It was clear that he didn't try to take on the muck in the system, but circumvented it and chose to help out those who sought him out, even if that meant babysitting the junior-most players in the team.

Despite being one of New Zealand’s star batsmen during his times, Wright was not consulted when the Board thought it fit to appoint a batting coach. To rub salt into his wounds, Gavaskar as batting coach, not only took away part of his jurisdiction, but was also privy to dressing room incidents of senior players treating Wright badly. The world came to know about it when in one of his columns, he claimed that Wright “was told off and sworn at by some players." A dogged determination to keep away controversies even if it meant swallowing humble pie - was that the secret of John Wright's success?

But he did have his own share of luck. Sehwag, Dravid and Laxman were enjoying the form of their lives, even non-performers like Agarkar came up with match-winning performances when it mattered most – like his 6 for 41 against Australia. The one day team had deep batting and very effective medium pacers in Srinath, Zaheer and Nehra. Youngsters like Pathan and Balaji were precision-tuned from the time they were off from the starting block. So it didn't take much for the dirt to be swept under the red carpet that was being rolled out for the team wherever it went.

It was obvious that his successor from Down Under didn't share his sentiments on managing the team. Where Wright was quiet and soft-spoken, Chappell came across as loud and brash and quite clear that this was a team that needed shepherding. Only the flock didn't seem to think so. So in groups and as individuals, they planned and plotted on how to lay him out to pasture. And everything that went right during Wright's tenure turned wrong during Chappell's – Sehwag, Irfan and Harbhajan turned from bad to worse, the middle order mostly played to stake its claim in the team in both versions of the game and the bowlers, barring the dependable Kumble, generally lost it.

Most importantly, the Australian mantra of flexibility and multi-tasking didn't go down well with a nation that had only recently realised that a tailender might needed to bat and that a batsman might be needed to do more than plonk himself in the slips and hope that the ball finds its way into his hands. Shuffling batsmen up and down the order, promoting Pathan as an allrounder, trying to make the senior players as fleetfooted as he possibly could - Chappell failed in every little endeavour he embarked on.

But the way his end came must have been closely been watched by the likes of Ford and others. With the result that even Pakistan, with the Woolmer tragedy and Sri Lanka, with its constantly simmering violence, are finding it easier to attract foreign coaches. As for India, we have handed over the reins to an elderly gentleman who on one hand, claims that he does not know what is expected of him and on the other, exudes confidence that the team would put up a good show.

Somewhere in the outback of Australia, a world-beating team is practicing hard because it wants to gear up for 18 months of cricket coming up. The English team is trying hard to come out of the doldrums with Allan Donald injecting some spirit into weary souls like Harmison and Sidebottom. Pakistan is seeking strength by rallying an army of youngsters, with Shoaib Malik at the helm. Sri Lanka has quietly found its replacement coach and is going about business without a fuss. And India is hurtling headlong into a schedule that has pit stops in all those places where the ball does things completely alien to Indian batsmen - starting with Ireland, continuing into England, Scotland and South Africa, and ending Down Under. And our work in progress includes juggling with a handful of injured pace bowlers, prolonging the careers of ageing superstars whose eyesight have become so bad that they have begun mistaking Shaun Udall and Paul Harris for Shane Warne and showing them respect they are not worthy of - and a failed coach selection process.

Until the day big brands, celebrity management companies and zonal selectors stop having their lobbies for individual players in the corridors of power, until every player - including those who have scored 10,000 runs and above - has to perform to keep his place in the team and is ingrained with the feeling that losing a match does signify the end of the world, no coach on earth can make a difference to this team.

The Volkswagen Beetle once ran a famous TV commercial that showed the car driving through a mountain of snow and ended with the question - “Did you ever wonder how the guy who drives the snow plow got to the snow plow?” That question has to be rephrased. “Did you ever wonder how the guy who drives the Indian team got to the Indian team?”

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THE FORD FOCUS

• Name: Graham Xavier Ford
• Born: Nov 16, 1960 in Pietermaritzberg, South Africa
• Played seven first-class matches for Natal B as a top order batsman
• Nurtured young talent like Shaun Pollock, Jonty Rhodes and Lance Klusener as Natal Coach
• Coached South Africa A in 1998
• Succeeded Bob Woolmer as Coach of South Africa after their 1999 World Cup semi-final exit
• Sacked as coach in 2001 when the match-fixing saga was at its heights
• Turned down offer to coach Sri Lanka in 2003, citing the very same reason as he did when turning down the Indian offer – family
• Joined English county Kent as director of cricket in 2004
• Appointed India coach in 2007, only to turn it down in less than 48 hours

(Appeared in the New Indian Express Sunday Supplement as '...but who's next' on 24 June, 2007)