Category Archives: Sport
Anand Ramachandran tells us how. Heh.
Other random links I’ve come across this morning:
A couple of posts about Nandigram by Somnath Batabyal and Yash Jain. Somnath makes an interesting point:
I see Nandigram in the same light as the horrific events in Gujarat. Yes, the number of deaths is less but it is the state machinery that went out to hunt the minority. In Gujarat, it was the Muslims, here they were poor peasants. Show me the difference? Both are minorities.
Ayn Rand once said, “The smallest minority on earth is the individual.” But some minortities, of course, are more equal than others. My thoughts on Nandigram are the same as my thoughts on Singur, which I’d expressed here.
Last link for this post: Old pal Rohit Gupta, who now calls himself DJ Fadereu, is writing a book, of which the first chapter can be downloaded here. If you like it, he is asking you to donate money that will help him write more of the book. I like the model: doodh ka doodh, paani ka paani.
Posted by Amit Varma on 26 March, 2007 in
Who owns cricket in India? That is a difficult question. Legally, only the BCCI can put out a cricket team that purports to represent India. So who owns the BCCI, and who is it accountable to?
The BCCI is not owned by the government, and so is not accountable to taxpayers. The BCCI is not a public limited company, and so is not accountable to shareholders. The BCCI is, effectively, controlled by the regional cricket associations, whose interests are entirely different from that of the cricket fan or cricket player, and which are similarly accountable to no one.
So if the BCCI is not accountable to us, is there any way by which we can make them get their act together? My answer to that is an emphatic “Yes”.
You see, sporting bodies throughout the world have a similar effective monopoly over the sport, and enjoy a similar absence of direct accountability. What keeps them efficient then? Competition does. In most other countries, cricket is not the only popular sport. If English cricket is mismanaged, and the team starts to decline, the fans will watch more soccer. In Australia, they’ll watch more Aussie rules football. Or rubgy league. Or hockey. And when they do that, the cricket board makes less money. Eventually, if the board doesn’t get its act together, the fans will turn away completely. Because that possibility exists, we see that the cricket boards in those countries are actually quite efficient.
In India, though, there is virtually no competition to cricket. It is the only sport that people watch in large enough numbers for it to matter commercially. The BCCI knows that regardless of how well it runs the game, millions of people will still tune in to watch India play. Who is responsible for giving them that sense of complacency? You and I.
Why do we spend our time—and remember that time is money—on watching hours and hours of unsatisfying cricket? How many of us complaining about India’s performance in the World Cup will switch their TV sets on when India play their next series? Do we not need to get a life, and watch something else? The only way we can hold cricket administrators and players to task is by voting with our eyeballs. Nothing else will work. Only commerce matters to our administrators, and the money in cricket comes because we watch the game.
So the next time India disappoints you in a cricket match, don’t whine, because the power to make a difference is in your hands. It’s the remote control.
(Comments are open.)
Posted by Amit Varma on 25 March, 2007 in
I’m travelling for the rest of the day, and won’t get to blog much. Before I go, a couple of quick thoughts on the India-Sri Lanka game.
One, why do so many Indian fans have such a strong sense of entitlement? They behave as if they were entitled to a win, as if they paid good money to see a film, went into the hall, and were shown a film with a different ending than the one they were promised. This is not cinema, dramatic as it is. This is sport. Shit happens. No one betrayed anyone. One team played better than the other on the day, that’s all. Having said that…
Two, it was clear that India weren’t merely unlucky, but were simply not good enough to win the World Cup. The reasons for this have to do with preparation, not ability. Contrast our fielding with Sri Lanka’s. Contrast the number of dot balls we faced with how Sri Lanka did. These don’t depend on the vagaries of the day, but on how well one prepares for the event.These two things are the most tangible reflections of a coach’s impact on the team. I don’t see how even Greg Chappell, if he is honest with himself, can deny that he has failed.
But here’s the thing, O Crazed Fans: it was not a wilful failure, but a human one. Chappell certainly wanted India to progress as much as any of us did, and he and poor Rahul Dravid must be terribly gutted now. There is certainly cause for us to feel disappointment. But anger?
And that brings me back to my first point…
(Comments are open.)
Posted by Amit Varma on 24 March, 2007 in
“The subcontinental cricket fan,” writes Mukul Kesavan, “is a lazy, pampered know-nothing who thinks he owns the cricket teams that he supports.” Kesavan compares the Barmy Army to subcontinental fans:
Why are they [the Barmy Army] different from desi couch potatoes who never leave their rooms, never exert themselves except to find their remote controls and yet treat every Indian defeat as a conspiracy against the Nation Recumbent? They’re different because India is a nation of losers: its teams win at nothing but cricket. Two, because cricket fans from outside the subcontinent have generally played some outdoor sport, they have some practical experience of how difficult competitive sport is. If you’ve never played cricket and if the reason you watch it is because it’s on television, your expectations are radically different. You’re a voyeur: the sort of person who watches other people do it. It is a ‘virtual’ condition, unmediated by experience or empathy.
Well, I must point out that finding the remote control can sometimes be quite a testing sport. In my living room, as I look around me, I see cushions, stuffed toys, books, newspapers, magazines, handkerchiefs, DVDs, CDs, a discman, a mobile phone, a laptop, many wires and a blanket lying around. I suspect Kesavan has a tidier living room, and has clearly no understanding of the skill and endurance that goes into finding a remote control, especially when a particularly irritating commercial is on. Compared to that, Dravid’s got it easy.
No, but Kesavan is spot on about most subcontinental fans, and I’ve expressed my own thoughts on this in my essay, “Do We Really Love Cricket?” As we speak, I am at work on my next essay, “Do We Really Love Remote Controls?” On reading Kesavan’s piece, I am forced to conclude that perhaps we don’t. Alas.
(Link via SMS from PrufrockTwo.)
Posted by Amit Varma on 22 March, 2007 in
A brave man.
Update (March 23): A very brave man.
Posted by Amit Varma on 21 March, 2007 in
I share Sameer Kibey’s angst.
And yet, quite apart from the human tragedy of Bob Woolmer’s death, it is a thrilling World Cup, a few matches earlier than one would have expected. I can barely wait for Friday’s game between India and Sri Lanka.
And I hope no one from the BCCI reads Gaurav Sabnis’s blog. Might give them ideas…
Update: Do read about “how the Indian fan stumped the Pakistani fan.” Heh.
Posted by Amit Varma on 21 March, 2007 in
Superb headline in DNA:
Imran Khan attacks President Musharraf for World Cup debacle.
Right. And the economy and terrorism are Inzamam-ul-Haq’s fault, and democracy in Pakistan has been subverted by Younis Khan. Savage delight flows from the barrel of a gun.
By the way, won’t the Pakistan-Zimbabwe encounter tomorrow be the only one in the tournament between two countries led by dictators?
Posted by Amit Varma on 20 March, 2007 in
Update (March 19): Bob Woolmer is dead. For anyone involved with cricket, this is shattering news. It puts the word ‘tragedy’, so loosely used sometimes with reference to mere cricket matches, in perspective. It will be hard to enjoy the cricket in the World Cup now. (Original post below. News via email from reader Jayakamal Balasubramani.)
* * * * * * * *
I’ve been up all night watching cricket, as I’m sure have many of you, and I can’t remember watching such a stirring day’s cricket. In one match, Ireland knocked Pakistan out of the World Cup on St Patrick’s day; in another, Bangladesh beat India with a superlative performance. Minnows or sharks?
I was particularly impressed by Bangladesh. All their past upsets have been caused by the side opposite them getting a bit complacent, and the wins have seemed like flukes, a judgement backed up by how rare those wins have been. But today they outplayed India in every department of the game: their bowling was exceptional, their fielding was the sharpest of the subcontinental teams, and their batting was positive and purposeful. They didn’t look like a weaker team playing out of their skins, but like one that belonged at this level. What was most remarkable was that many of them, including their three half-centurions today (1, 2, 3), are teenagers.
Bangladesh’s age-group cricket is exceptionally well-organised, and they seem to be getting the fruits of that now. Besides Habibul Bashar, whose captaincy has actually been lacklustre, and Mohammad Rafique, all their key players are young: Mashrafe Mortaza looks a positive veteran at 23. Their coach, Dav Whatmore, has surely had a lot to do with making them believe in themselves and concentrate in doing the basics well. He coached Sri Lanka when they were considered a second-rung side, and took them to a World Cup win. I’d keep a close eye on Bangladesh in 2011. (Or even 2007? Who knows? Remember 1983?)
And what about India then? Well, we can still make it through by winning the next two games comprehensively, and this rough start might just have been immensely valuable in making the side play with greater intensity, as happened to Pakistan in 1992. But Sri Lanka’s a fine team, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they manage to stop us. That will be the end of Greg Chappell as Indian coach, of course, though I feel much more sorry for Bob Woolmer, a fine coach who was always working against the odds within the Pakistan system. And consider the irony that he recently wrote the following words:
Ireland, in particular, have shown a rapid improvement, captained by an Australian, Trent Johnston, a medium-fast seamer and, with a number of players who have county experience in England, they have a very good team. Any side underestimating them will be doing themselves few favours.
Ah well, what to say now?
By the way, Comments are open on this post, feel free to express your feelings about these two games. Did India screw up or did Bangladesh just play too well? Will India qualify? What do you feel about Pakistan’s early exit?
Posted by Amit Varma on 18 March, 2007 in
Yesterday, when I was re-reading C Northcote Parkinson’s excellent book, Parkinson’s Law: The Pursuit of Progress, while researching my column for Mint, it struck me that the central insight of the book applies beautifully to cricket. The insight is this:
Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.
Now, when teams chase low totals in one-day matches, the way they chase the target changes entirely from the norm. A team that would normally chase 250 easily approaches 180 differently. The tempo of their batting adjusts itself to the low target, and while they might normally look to reach the 180 mark by the 40th over, the task expands itself “to fill the time available for its completion.”
And if that new tempo is an unnatural one for the side, it might just backfire on them, and they might lose. This is why it now strikes me that India might have been lucky to get dismissed for 183 in the 1983 World Cup final. Had we made 250, we might have lost.
Do note that this doesn’t mean that teams should deliberately make low scores. That’s pushing it!
Posted by Amit Varma on 15 March, 2007 in
Small thoughts |
It finds them a bond where otherwise there is sea.
So writes my friend Rahul Bhattacharya, India’s best cricket writer by far, in his terrific piece, “Rally round the West Indies”.
As much as the next two months will showcase some great cricket, there will also be lots of great cricket writing on offer. Don’t look at the Indian broadsheets for that—they will make mediocrity seem like a standard to aspire to. Cricinfo, where once I worked, will have some excellent stuff amidst much ordinary writing, as will the British and Australian papers. Now is when the cricket writers will strut.
Not moi! I’m so happy to just be able to watch, without the pressure of having to write, when much of the romance is sucked out by the need to find words for it. Joy.
Also read: Sambit Bal’s piece, “Let the games begin.”
Posted by Amit Varma on 13 March, 2007 in
This piece of mine has been published in the March 9, 2007 issue of Time Out Mumbai as “Field Days.”
Television was the best thing that happened to Indian cricket, and then the worst.
Once upon a time television pushed cricket into the modern age in India. As India opened up to the world a decade-and-a-half ago, in more ways than one, kids in small towns throughout the country tuned into satellite television and saw a brave new world. Instead of homegrown DD commentators uttering banalities in two languages, they saw the best cricket broadcasters in the world educating them on the game: From the likes of Richie Benaud, Ian Chappell, Geoff Boycott and Martin Crowe, they learned to appreciate the nuances of the sport. They picked up the values that would help them thrive in international cricket: once, pot-bellied Indian cricketers would saunter between wickets and refuse to dive while fielding because, apparently, Indian grounds were hard. Look at any Indian cricketer below the age of 25, and you shall see the good that television has done.
But television also made itself a slave to the monster it created. In a celebrity-obsessed era, viewers craved the familiar, and broadcasters stopped taking chances: at a certain point in time, it became default policy to hire ex-cricketers as commentators. Sometimes ex-cricketers provide the insight only a player can. But most ex-cricketers who have turned to commentary in the last few years have been hired for star value. They know it, and don’t work as hard at preparing for a game as they should, and it shows. Cliches abound, as they work on auto-pilot. It is no coincidence that India’s only world-class commentator is the only non-player who’s made a place for himself in the commentary box: Harsha Bhogle. It is unlikely that too many others will get a chance.
Posted by Amit Varma on 09 March, 2007 in
Essays and Op-Eds |
What does the cricket World Cup have to do with China and Taiwan, you may ask? Plenty. Sam Sheringham reports on Bloomberg:
More than 8,000 miles from Beijing, Chinese workers are putting the finishing touches on stadiums for a sport they’ve never played.
Living in temporary plastic huts and taking a single day off each month, about 1,000 employees of state-owned Chinese companies have sweated away the past year on the Caribbean islands of Jamaica, Antigua and Grenada as the West Indies prepare to host the Cricket World Cup, the game’s premier international event.
Their presence has more to do with China’s drive to isolate Taiwan, the democracy it considers a breakaway province, than with what the Chinese call shen shi yun dong, or “the noble game.’’ China is using its economic might to break alliances Taiwan forged in the Caribbean to counter its status as a diplomatic outcast.
Later in the piece Winston Baldwin Spencer, the prime minister of Antigua & Barbuda, is quoted as confessing, “They knew we didn’t have the money. If we didn’t have the Chinese workers we wouldn’t have been able to complete the stadium.”
I knew geopolitics and sport often collided, but I never imagined that China could use cricket to isolate Taiwan. I just hope the sport doesn’t get into any more crosshairs now. How disastrous it would be if Islamic terrorists were to chose a cricketing stage to make a political statement.
(Link via email from Nitin Pai.)
Posted by Amit Varma on 08 March, 2007 in
Greg Chappell walks into his hotel room after a hard day’s play. To his immense surprise, there is a Bong bombshell on his bed, in an elegant tanter sari. She smiles at him, raises one eyebrow seductively, and lets her palloo drop.
Chappell: My goodness, what is this? Who are you?
Bombshell: Greg-da, I’m a huge fan of yours, and I’ve come to express my admiration for your sexy, ahem, coaching!
Chappell: Take off your sari immediately!
Bombshell: What, so fast? I thought you were into ‘process’ and all.
Posted by Amit Varma on 07 March, 2007 in
given their predictions for the World Cup. Daruwalla says:
In 1983, the combination in the Indian team was that of Capricorn (Kapil Dev), Cancer (Sunil Gavaskar) and Libra (Mohinder Amarnath), which worked wonders. Even this time, captain Rahul Dravid (Capricorn), Sourav Ganguly (Cancerian) and Virender Sehwag (Libran), may repeat the success story.
With 15 guys in each squad, you can probably get any combination of sun signs that you desire, and it is not unlikely that all the squads may contain a Capricorn, Cancer and Libra. Note that both gentlemen are being cautious, though Jumaaaaaaani more or less counts Australia out of the running. No matter what happens, though, I’m sure believers will note only the parts of their prediction where they seemed to have got it right. Always, the confirmation bias.
(Some earlier posts on astrology etc: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19.)
My take on the World Cup: After a close perusal of some fine coffee beans (followed by their consumption, as is necessary for the ritual to be successful), I have come to the conclusion that my earlier post on this subject, written months ago, was somewhat off target. To my list of seven favourites, I add an eighth: New Zealand. I don’t think I can get any more precise than that.
Posted by Amit Varma on 03 March, 2007 in
Old memes |
Astrology etc |
A version of my story below was published today in Mint.
Our love for the game is deep and passionate. Our love for the game is fickle and superficial. Which is it?
The historian Ram Guha once compared cricket in India to football in Brazil. It is easy to disagree with that, but hard to figure out which hairs to split. On one hand, cricket in India is surely followed more fervently, with temples made for some cricketers, with an obsessive passion that Brazilians, for all their lust for football, surely can’t match. People have even speculated, not entirely flippantly, on the economic impact cricket has on India because so many people stop working when a cricket match is on.
On the other hand, football matches between minor club teams in Brazil can attract tens of thousands of spectators, while Ranji Trophy games in India generally draw so few people that you could fit them all in a bus. Much of the following of the game in India revolves around celebrities, with few fans concerned about the nuances of the game.
Our love for the game is deep and passionate. Our love for the game is fickle and superficial. Which is it? Do Indians really love cricket? It is futile to generalise about an entire country – each individual has his own relationship with the game – but certain patterns of love and longing for cricket run through the country. And outside it.
Posted by Amit Varma on 03 March, 2007 in
Essays and Op-Eds |
Yesterday I was at dinner with some friends at a restaurant, and there was a television set near us showing some tennis. One of us looked at the menu and, making her mind up about what to eat, said, “Lasagna!”
Another friend, gazing at the TV screen, remarked, “Yes, she’s winning.”
Posted by Amit Varma on 27 February, 2007 in
This article of mine was first published on April 17, 2005 in the Indian Express as “Windbag and the willow”. This was also posted on Indian Uncut, and was shaped by the blogging I did on it all through March 2005.
THE next time you watch a cricket match, listen to the phrases that pop into your head with every piece of action. Have you heard these words before? I don’t know about you, but I am assailed by familiar phrases and sentences when I watch cricket, and I recoil each time one pops into my head. I am a cricket journalist, and it is my job to describe every game of cricket that I write about in a fresh manner, to give the reader a clear picture of what happened. And yet, that is so difficult.
Posted by Amit Varma on 15 February, 2007 in
Essays and Op-Eds |