Standing alone…
When all the applause had died down,
When all the adjectives had run out,
When all the euphoria had subsided,
He was still standing there, alone, the little maestro,
Taller than the giants of the past and the present,
None to conquer the peaks he had scaled,
Serene, tranquil, composed,
His next challenge, excelling his own feats…
Salaam Sachin!
Women to the fore! The Commonwealth Games are finally over, more or less successfully, in spite of the Kalmadis and the Bhanots, the simians and the snakes, and such other trouble-makers. Some reputations were sullied, some others enhanced. A washing machine got thrown down a few floors; some coins left for safe custody disappeared. Nonetheless, The Games ended peacefully, much to the chagrin of some who, it was felt, wanted otherwise. Some Prime Ministers, lesser Ministers, assorted athletes and others who prophesied security disasters thought it prudent to be silent, when The Games came to a close without any mishap whatsoever. India heaved a collective sigh of relief, would rather be an understatement. But what is it that stands out at the end of the day? To me, it is the wonderfully remarkable show of the Indian Women was the high point of The Games! Let me hasten to add that it is not that I am not giving any credit to the many men who won laurels at Delhi; all of them deserve plaudits – the wrestlers and the boxers, the archers and the shooters, the lone gymnast who climbed the podium, the athletes, and several other sportspersons who brought glory to their games. Wasn’t it an exhilarating sight when Renjith Maheswari worked up the crowd at the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium to hop, step and jump to a new Indian record and a bronze, something which we have never seen an Indian athlete do! But, what brought great cheer to all sports aficionados was the spectacular show by our women in different disciplines: some names were familiar, most were not; in fact, some disciplines where they won medals brought a smile to one’s face! While Renubala Chanu in Wrestling, Krishna Poonia, Seema Antil and Harwant Kaur in Discus, Jwala Gutta and Saina Nehwal in Badminton, and Sania Mirza in Tennis are well known names, there were many others who were lesser known or not finding place in the first page of newspapers. We expected medals from the known ones, and they delivered; but what brought joy, and even tears to our eyes, was the new brigade which showed tremendous tenacity and compelling competitiveness to emerge winners. Anisa Sayyed, Rahi Sarnobat, Alka Tomar, Geeta Singh, Deepika Kumari, Dola Banerjee, Laishram Bomabyala Devi, Heena Sidhu, Annu Raj Singh, Soniya Ngangbam, Tejaswini Sawant, and Lajja Kumari aren’t househeold names – yet; so also Nirmala Devi, Babita Kumari, Mouma Das, Paolomi Ghatak, Shammi Kumaresan, Prajusha Maliakkal, Bheighyabati Chanu, Jhano Hansdah, Suman Kundu, et al. Only avid sports watchers had heard of Kavita Raut, Suma Shirur, Laishram Monika Devi, Rushmi Chakravarthi, Meena Kumari, Sathi Geetha, Srabani Nanda, Priya PK and Jyothi Manjunath. But for all their relative obscurity, each one of them gave their best to secure medals of varying hues for the nation when it mattered the most. Read through the names once again, and one can see they have a pan-Indian origin which, in itself, holds much promise for Indian sports. They come from all corners of India, and most are not city-born and brought-up ones. Several of them belong to states which have an adverse sex ratio. They must have toiled day in and out, trudged many miles, skipped most meals, to train and practise. They would have had to surmount many obstacles in their path to realize their potential – and their goals. And with what elan they accomplished them is what makes their achievements special - very, very, special. It was one of those unforgettable sights to watch three Indian women stand to attention when the National Anthem was sung, and the tricolor went up the pole. And the gold medalist Krishna Poonia said it all when she mentioned that her grandmother was unhappy when a baby girl was born in the family. Little would the grandmom have visualized that one day the baby girl would challenge the world and emerge on top, bringing glory to the family – and the nation! Those who saw the three Discus winners at the podium also must have noticed that Indian women have finally arrived at the world stage: they stood equal in height and physique to their counterparts from other countries, if not taller and better built. Look back at the way Jwala Gutta and Ashwini Ponnappa fought on gamely, point after point, match after match, to win the gold against higher rated opponents. They egged each other on, of course, egged on by a full capacity stadium. They never gave up, and fought back from seemingly irretrievable situations. And the smiles and the tears at the victory stand were a vindication of their will to win, and to excel under trying circumstances. And Saina Nehwal showed us those rare qualities of a winner yet again: from the brink of defeat, she clawed her way back to wrest the Gold, and put India in second place ahead of England in the overall medals’ tally. It was most befitting that it was with Saina’s Gold that India overtook Britain, a feat made possible by several other women athletes who graced The Games. None showed the mettle of Indian athletes, men or women, more than the quartet that fetched the Gold in the 4X400 Relay. It was, to say the least, most inspiring to see those four young women outpace much fancied runners from Australia, England and Canada. It was sheer joy to see them hold off their rivals and inch their way forward to take lead – and more importantly cling on to that lead tenaciously and finally cross the ribbon fairly comfortably! The whole stadium and those of us who watched it on television erupted in wild applause, celebrating these four women who did the nation proud. In no time, Manjeet Kaur, Sini Jose, Ashwini Akkunji and Mandeep Kaur had become the face of The Games. What was equally impressive was the way the 65,000 people in the stands roared their support to the girls as they ran the stretch: no other Indian sportsperson would have received such all-round cheers unless one went by the name of Sachin Tendulkar, taking that quick single to complete yet another century… All in all, it has been a remarkable fortnight for Indian sports, in particular for our women sportspersons. Let us hope that this is just the beginning: and that the sportswomen of India will lead us to greater glory in the days ahead – and that no grandmother will ever regret if a girl child is born into the family. Three Cheers to Indian Women!
Silver Jubilee of a Win, and a Grin!
There are moments in one's life, which comes but rarely, that remain etched in one's memory, forever. I am sure those of us who watched the 1983 World Cup cricket final 25 years ago, this day ' rather this night ' still get goose bumps when we recall that roller coaster ride of a match that culminated in an unbelievable win for the underdogs and the launch of a grin made famous by none other than The Leader, Kapil Dev.
It will not be easy for the succeeding generations to comprehend in full measure the sheer magic of that moment. There were a lot many factors that made that victory very, very, special.
India of the early 1980s was not a very exciting place to be growing up in, let me tell you. We were still in the rut of the permit raj; corruption was rampant, politics was very much a cesspool, unemployment prevailed over rural and urban areas, and poverty was very much a reality. Militancy had sprung up with a vengeance in Punjab, threatening life and liberty in many parts of the country.
On the sports front, our hockey was at a new low, what with the 7-0 drubbing at the hands of archrivals Pakistan at the final of the New Delhi Asiad. There was no Indian standing at the podium anywhere for the National Anthem to be played and the flag to go up the mast. The mood was one of gloomy despondence.
When the Indian team left for the Prudential World Cup, not many would have bothered to check out what was going to happen that English summer. The team, of course, had big names, but nothing to show by way of accomplishments: the two previous World Cups saw India battling it out at the bottom of the table. The great Gavaskar had created history by scoring a princely 36 runs of 60 overs, and carrying the bat through the entire innings!
So, when the Editor of Wisden and respected cricket observer David Frith nastily commented that if India won the Cup he would eat the paper on which he was writing that feature, not even the diehard fans back home felt offended! Betters at the Ladbrokes too didn't show the high five to the Indian team, for all I know!
The tournament began and, in a way, a remarkable transformation was taking place in the Indian dressing room, despite some alleged bad vibes among the top players. The first spark came when India beat the reigning two-time champions West Indies rather comfortably in their very first match. But no one, pundits or purists, was willing to call us the `dark horse' yet ' we were still very much the also-rans. The second win against the lowly rated Zimbabwe too didn't inspire confidence in the betters and punters, not to forget supporters like yours truly. Mighty Australia walloped India in the third match, and West Indies showed where we stood ' rather they stood ' with a convincing win in the very next match. The sheen of the first win was already gone, and the shoulders had started drooping. No wonder, David Frith was smiling vicariously!
And then Tunbridge Wells happened! I still remember that exotic evening which started off so badly for India. At 17 for 5, we decided it was better to go for a beer in that summer of Delhi than get sweating listening to the team losing to everybody's bunny, Zimbabwe. But one man stood up to be counted, like a true captain, without leaving the sinking ship. When the beer session was over, Kapil Dev had already scored an imperious 175 not out (from 17/5 to 175!) to steer the ship to safety! It's a pity that there was no television coverage of the match due to a steady drizzle. I don't think the world of cricket had till then, or later too, seen such a wondrous performance by any cricketer that changed the course of a game of cricket, and I suspect the endearing slogan `Kapil Dev da jawaab nahin' emerged that rainy, grainy, night.
There was no turning back after that, as it were. Remember, those days, fans never burnt cricketers' effigies or pelted stones at their houses or abused their mothers and sisters, nor were there occasions for ticker-tape parades. A win was a rarity, and defeats a reality. So, when India thumped the arrogant Aussies by 118 runs in the last group match, we clapped politely like trained Englishmen ' the tricolor waving crowds hadn't started thronging the stadiums yet.
The flag bearing Indian supporters turned out in their entire splendor at Old Trafford for the semi-finals against none other than the natives. What a sight it was to behold: the stiff, upper lipped three-piece suite wallas vying for seats with the Indian hoi polloi on a beautiful English afternoon. The Indians and people of Indian origin were ecstatic as only Indians could be on a cricket field, the others as reserved as only Queen's subjects could be. At the end of the day, England's score of 213 in a 60-over game proved too small for a rollicking India which overtook them, losing only four wickets in the process. The swat six of Yashpal Sharma of Bob Willis and a flurry of fours from Sandeep Patil off the same hapless bowler are still a treasure in mind for many of us. Every four of Sandeep Patil brought the flag waving Indians to the ground and Willis was left laughing at one end at the merriment and joy all around him. The cricket-loving Englishmen joined in appreciation ' albeit politely ' at this remarkable performance.
Came the day of the finals and the West Indies who had crushed Pakistan by eight wickets in the other semi-final took their rightful place, in quest of a third win. Their form was ominous, and King Vivian Richards gave an early warning by scoring 80 runs in no time against our unfriendly neighbors. David Frith was still in high spirits, and the Ladbrokes lads were adding fuel to his fiery optimism.
The Lord's, the Mecca of Cricket, was bursting at the seams on the appointed day. The fiercely loyal West Indian fans had turned out in large numbers to celebrate a certain hat-trick, their colorful dress, drums, calypso and beer cans in full splendor. The tricolor waving Indians too came out in full strength to cheer the underdogs that their team still was ' no one was willing to term them the dark horse!
But who could blame them??? Led by the six feet plus, bespectacled Clive Lloyd, the West Indies boasted of the best line-up world cricket had ever seen ' and perhaps will ever see. Imagine a team that had bowlers like Andy Roberts, Malcolm Marshall, Joel Garner and Michael Holding! Vivian Richards, Gordon Greenidge, Desmond Haynes, Larry Gomes, Faoud Bacchus and Jeff Dujon could single handedly win matches and put any bowler to the sword on any day!
And compared to them India had in their ranks, besides Kapil, military medium pacers like Madan Lal, Balwinder Singh Sandhu, Roger Binny and Mohinder Amarnath. Gavaskar, Srikkanth, Ysahpal Sharma, Sandeep Patil, Kirmani and Kirti Azad, were temperamental players, but none of them, except probably Sunny Gavaskar, could rival their more illustrious West Indian counterparts.
As the match got under way, the Indian innings betrayed the hype of a World Cup final at The Lord's. When the team wound up for 183, celebrations had already begun in the West Indian camp, and sports editors were writing obituaries. David Frith was laughing away to glory, so too Ladbrokes' betters. The only saving grace was Srikkanth's stunning sixer off Big Bird Joel Garner ' the tricolor was still at half-mast for all practical purposes, and beer was flowing like The Thames among the Caribbeans.
The calypso was in full swing as Greenidge and Haynes came out to bat. For the reigning world champions, the paltry score of 183 was attainable in the worst of times, and the openers were settling down nicely. Then Greenidge did something that he would rue for the rest of his life: he left alone an innocuous looking ball from Sandhu only to look back in bewilderment and find the leather scattering the wood. Suddenly, the tricolors were swirling everywhere!
In walked The King, swaggering all the way, furiously chewing the gum, to thunderous applause from all around the ground. Richards meant business ' it was as if he was determined to score all the 183 runs of his own bat, and all at the cost of poor Madan Lal. Some of us were inclined to take a walk in the park at that point of time, and away from the TV, so as to avoid watching the massacre on screen!
But, again, like at Tunbridge Wells, Kapil Dev happened! In a maniacal moment, Richards pulled Madan Lal and the Captain ran and ran in all directions never taking the eye off the cherry to complete an unbelievable catch! It was perhaps the most defining moment of the Final. Maddy had his revenge, and The Lord's went silent as Sir Vivian walked back to the pavilion, though this time the swagger was not so very visible. The tricolor was definitely flying high now!
But, mind you, the West Indies was not one Richards; the warriors from the Caribbean were still out there. Yet, it was not to be their day after Richards left, to be followed to the pavilion by Haynes and Lloyd. Slowly and steadily, the Indian tortoise was inching forward to the finishing line. Every single team member rose to the occasion, taking wickets, grabbing catches, and stopping certain fours. When Amarnath trapped Holding plumb before the stumps, it was all over for the reigning champions. Only the tricolors were flying now at the Mecca of cricket.
Outside the Indian team's balcony, Kapil held aloft The Prudential Cup, and grinned, an image etched in our minds forever. In distant India, crackers burst through the night and a new chapter in Indian sporting history was written.
The victory of 1983 by bits-and-pieces players against the best of the world, that too against all odds, was a redeeming point for many of us who were waiting for something positive to happen to dispel the gloom and the despair. Today's generation wouldn't really know what that win meant to many of us twenty-five years ago ' and I don't grudge them that. I know, a lot of people would argue that this win was what led to the demise of all other games in the country: in fact, I saw a newspaper item the other day, which said the history of Indian sports would have been very different if Greenidge hadn't left that Sandhu ball alone, or for that matter, if Kapil hadn't taken that catch of Richards! Am I being told to believe that we would have been winning Gold Medals at the Olympics in scores but for those deeds at The Lord's! Well, let us not get into that mood this day!
Let us for a moment look back at that win ' and that grin ' of a team that beat the best in the business against all predictions to the contrary, and savor the pleasure of that euphoric night. Let us also salute the indomitable will of the Team of 83 that brought smiles to our faces with that wondrous win.
Kapil Dev da ' rather Kapil Devils da ' jawaab nahin!
Oh, let us not forget dear old David Frith either! Records say that, true to his words, the wise Editor of Wisden ate the paper in which he wrote that article against India's chances of winning the Prudential Cup ' with a little help from a bottle of the choicest red wine!
Three cheers to that!
Of Cricket, and Other Games!
[When I posted "Of Cricket, and Simians", our friend Ekantapadhika (http://nadirafromkannur.rediffiland.com) commented that she couldn't understand why cricket got all the fanfare, adding that other games got a step-motherly treatment. I replied to her by e-mail my thoughts on the matter. The good lady recommended that I should post the same on Rediff. That's how "Of Cricket, and Other Games" hit the iLand today! I know I am in for brickbats, especially in the wake of the IPL windfall: yet, here I go].
Well, I am a great cricket fan, though I tend to share, at least in some measure, the view of many friends that cricket has taken the zing out of several other games.
Yet, I have a different take on the matter. Like a true Malayali, I have been following Indian sports for several decades - as long as I can remember. And I try to keep myself updated on every game, whether India plays it or not ' may be a typical Malayali attribute.
If we look back, India had just one game where we were world champions - and that was hockey, except for billiards and snooker once in a while. The whole nation took pride in our hockey heroes while our Wilson Jones and Michael Ferreiras and Geet Sethis, all world champions, didn't receive the kudos that was due to them. There was virtually no other game where we were even of Asian standards, barring may be kho kho or kabbaddi.
In those days, cricket was just another game we played in colonial spirit, a few big names here and there; we lost most matches - a win was a rarity, and naturally no one bothered about cricket. In fact, Ramanathan Krishnan whose exploits on the tennis grounds were widely reported was more of a household name than Nari Contractor or Bapu Nadkarni.
The late 1960s, precisely the 1968 Mexico Olympics, saw the beginning of the end of Indian hockey. We lost to New Zealand in the preliminary rounds and we never hit the podium after that for long. We never had another Ramanathan Krishnan ' Premjit Lal and Jaideep Mukherjee held the flag for sometime - till the mid 1970s when Vijay and Anand Amritraj came onto the tennis courts. Prakash Padukone did us proud by winning the All England Badminton Championship. Football was played with great gusto but we hardly won even an Asian medal (it is another matter that we lost in the semi-finals at the 1956 Melbourne Olympics!); athletics was a certain no-no; basket ball, volley ball, name any game, and we were nowhere…
It was at this time that we cobbled up a cricket team which slowly but surely climbed uphill; this period also saw the rise of the famous spin quartet, Sunny Gavaskar, Gundappa Viswanath and some other world class players. And then we did the unthinkable by beating the best in their own backyards ' the West Indies in the Caribbean, England in England, and most leading teams of the time in their country pitches.
So, the rise of cricket coincided with the decline of hockey; and I am sure most sports enthusiasts will agree that the fall of Indian hockey had nothing to do with the rise of Indian cricket. In a country where we had no champions, suddenly people started noticing a team of world-beaters - and who wouldn’t like to worship the rising son - after all, we Indians are known for that!
It also happened that in the process cricket established itself in our country and many more world-class players came on stage, including the famous Kapil’s Devils. Coincidentally, around the same time, Indian hockey started declining further. It helped cricket that suddenly, sponsorship came in a big way into Indian sports - and not just cricket alone. After all, which businessman would like to invest money in a game that was going downhill? It was small wonder then that money went into cricket and not hockey or any other game. Consequently, more and more youngsters started playing cricket, and more and more money got pumped in.
It is also interesting that no other game threw up any big names during this period, except for an occasional PT Usha in athletics, a Prakash Padukone in badminton, a Geet Sethi in Billiards, or an Ashok Kumar in hockey. It is equally important to bear in mind that whenever someone came up world class, he or she didn't have a problem with sponsorships or coaching facilities. Take the case of Viswanathan Anand: he doesn't have any problem getting sponsors; his victories are hailed by the whole nation and a large number of Indians are now winning chess championships around the world. Narayan Karthikeyan too found sponsors and here too exciting opportunities are opening up with Vijay Mallya and others entering the scene.
PT Usha and others led to a great revival of athletics in India in general and in Kerala in particular. Several billiards and snooker champions too came up over the years. Ramesh Krishnan, and later Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi revived a national interest in tennis, and the best example is that of Sania Mirza: how much the nation - and sponsors - adore her! We had our shooters and weight lifters who too didn't find much difficulty in getting sponsorships. But we also know, when money came, problems too arrived: see the infighting in Indian tennis!
To be fair to cricketers, pray, tell me, how many other games have thrown up a Gavaskar or a Kapil Dev or a Tendulkar, and the production line is still very active. Take the case of Sachin alone: I choke with feeling when the nearly one lakh spectators at the cavernous Melbourne Cricket Ground give him a standing ovation as he walks in to bat: even if he goes out for a single, they still give him that standing ovation, to a man! And this was repeated at every stadium in Australia where Tendulkar has played. It is not restricted to the Aussies who are otherwise one of the most jingoistic spectators: from Adelaide to Antigua, Chepauk to Christchurch, Multan to Manchester, the Wanderers to Wellington, this little Indian has brought glory to the game ' and to the nation. Not many other players or sportspersons have epitomized the determination to excel as this one Tendulkar.
Look at it from another angle: time was, and still is, when every middle class parent wanted the ward to be a doctor or an engineer - and nothing else. IT came in the way to a small extent, but most families still want doctors and engineers - only. No one wants to go to the armed forces, sciences, humanities, etc. etc. So, as a rule, we all rush in where the money is; it’s human, to be fair.
So, I wouldn’t hold cricket entirely responsible for our non-performance in other games; it has largely to do with our inclination to identify with a game where we are undoubtedly world class and where we have some players who are world-beaters - even if cricket is played only in seven and a half countries. Money goes with winners, not just in games, or in India alone, but everywhere. Those who doubt, check out the British, Spanish, Italian, German and French football league contracts.
And the media too is to share the blame, if I may argue so. I agree that while our cricketers need to be felicitated, it shouldn't become a national hobby to gloat over our few wins, however great they might be, while glossing over our many defeats. See the headlines of our national dailies when India wins a match! As opinion leaders, the media has to be just and balanced, but then the media realizes that cricket wins - and sells!
The malaise runs much deeper than that. It comes with the administration of sports and games in our country and the bureaucratic approach to professional management. Politicians who have never entered the sporting arena except to give away awards or rake in the moolah administer every game worth its name. As long as politicians manage games in our country, we cannot expect world-beaters emerging from India. Viswanathan Anand, Usha, Sania, Paes, Bhupathi and others came to excel on the world stage, in spite of the rot that pervades the system. The same holds true of the Kapil Devs and the Pathans and the Dhonis…
I wrote this just before the `auctioning' of Indian cricketers! Ekantapadhika wrote to me soon after receiving my e-mail that she still felt cricket is, all said and done, an overestimated game'; after seeing the prices at which guys got auctioned, I tend to agree with her! The perils are worth watching: the original owners of the Kerry Packer circus that led to the introduction of the one-day internationals ' the Australians ' are a worried lot. They have already issued a warning to their players that their life may be in danger in terrorist-infested India! But the lure of the lucre is too tempting, I guess. The English are also a worried lot: the ECB no more holds the reins of power, you see. So the Aussies and the Brits are now playing to the gallery, suggesting that the kind of money that the BCCI is amassing will tilt the balance of power in the cricket arena: as long as they held the reins, everything was hunky-dory; now, how can we trust the Indians! Strange logic, ain't it!
I agree, as I said initially, that the rise of cricket has dwarfed the other games; the advent of IPL and the obscene auctioning of players are going to aggravate the problem, no doubt: but to blame the willow and its wielders entirely for our under par performance in other games may not be cricket! It may not be out of place to quote John Kennedy here: `victory begets many fathers, defeat is an orphan.'
Of Cricket ' and Simians!
A trans-continental battle of words is raging in ' and in the middle is the poor simian who has nothing whatsoever to do with the men in flannels. Our ancestor he may be, or so says Darwin, but what did the poor monkey do to be dragged into the cricket pitches in Mumbai or Sydney? Far from bowling the cherry or wielding the willow, our cousin has never ever entered any cricket ground anywhere in the world. And then how come it is in the middle of this muddle! I am simply bowled over!
I am one of the greatest fans of Australian Cricket. If any one has any doubt, please look up my post "Salaam Shane" (21st December 2006) where I paid tribute to that much maligned Wizard of Oz. I strongly believe that the imperious Hayden, scintillating Ponting, majestic Gilchrist, breathtaking Brett Lee and the one and only Andrew Symonds together lend much distinction to the world of cricket. No one can question their total and unwavering commitment to the game and their supreme professionalism: it is another matter that they play hard, real hard at that, no doubt about it. For them, to win a game is of primary importance ' how they do it, is immaterial and irrelevant. If one underarm ball can win the game for Team Australia as Guru Greg and brother Trevor decided against the hapless Kiwis some time ago, so be it ' to hell with purists and puritans, rules and regulations and the so-called spirit of the game!
It begs the question, though, what has a monkey got to do with cricket? Has it got something to do with the stiff rivalry that has evolved between India and Australia, even rivaling the battle for the Ashes? Is it that the Australians find it difficult to comprehend how the `timid' Indians have suddenly started sledging them - the masters of the art - much to their discomfort and discomfiture? Or is it possible that that Ponting and Co. are yet to digest the fact that their full team of world champions was beaten to a hat-trick of world championships by an Indian team which did not star any of their top stars? For, the `monkey business' between India and Australia had started shortly after the Twenty20 tournament in South Africa last year.
I am a great fan of Andrew Symonds too. Those doubting my intentions may please see my post "Of Kathakali and Cricket" (20th December 2006) where the accompanying photo featured Symonds in full flow. His aggressive batting, wily bowling and unmatched athleticism on the field are any team's envy. But, tell me, why should Symonds have any grudge if Indians treat their cricketers like heroes and idols? This was one complaint that he made to many newspapers immediately before the Australian team landed in India last year after the Twenty20 championship. He had another grievance as well: that Indian cricketers are paid a lot of money and other facilities! Pray, isn't the money coming from Indian coffers and not from Canberra?
If Indians, bereft as we are of world champions, do treat our Twenty20 cricketers as heroes, why should Symonds be complaining? And for that matter, if the BCCI pays money from its treasury, why should Symonds shed tears? Probably, that is part of the mind games that big boys like Andrew and his ilk play the Aussie way! We puny little Indians give them a run for their monkey ' I mean money ' and they are rattled; they could never ever imagine that Perth or Melbourne could be a monkey-run for us Indians or that we too could indulge in some monkey business!
Any way, we Indians have an affinity for monkeys ' that is something that the Australians should have known all along. We may not all wear monkey suits or may not be good in monkeyshine, but we acknowledge our lineage from Australopithecus! We venerate Lord Hanuman and his brigade, we feed them every Tuesday, and we respect them and their habitats. If the Aussies have any doubt on this score, the next time they are on tour, bring them to New Delhi where, right outside the seat of the President of the Republic, the Prime Minister and the Government of India, they will find the "Bandar Chowk", so revered by all babus and others who vie with one another to feed the simians bringing all traffic to a standstill on the Capital's busiest street! So, if poor Bhajji became a monkey menace to all the Aussies, it can all be attributed to our regard and respect for our ancestors. Yet, the Kangaroo court of Mike Procter and others found Bhajji guilty of racial abuse! Symonds needn't have bothered at all: that was certainly no monkey trick by the Indians.
Nor did the Indians use a monkey wrench in Australia this time or ever before to grab wickets. They did make a monkey out of some great names of Australian cricket by their clever bowling is another story ' and the Australians got around it, albeit with some help from a couple of friendly umpires is yet another story. But, as Ponting asserts, their "integrity" cannot be questioned, even if the cameras had a different story to tell. Symonds says that he was upset because Bhajji had patted friend Brett Lee on the back with the bat. How come Brett didn't get excited, by the way, and how come it was left to Andrew to take up the cause of the injured butt of Brett?
When we are on stories and the rear, I remember a story of yore: BS Chandrashekhar of the famed spin quartet was in action once in New Zealand. Almost every second ball that he bowled would have fetched him a Kiwi wicket but the friendly neighbourhood umpire was unmoved, much to Chandra's chagrin. Eventually, Chandra bowled a ball that had the Black Cap's woods shattered. The intrepid Chandra then walked up to the umpire and asked innocently if the batsman was indeed out. The umpire countered, `What do you mean?' And Chandra retorted, "I know he is bowled, but is he out?" I suspect Kumble and his teammates would have had similar questions to ask in the Kangaroo land!
Speaking of the rear, would anyone kindly recall an Aussie wicket keeper by name Tim Zoehrer who played the season with the national team 1985-87? Check out, and you will come to know of `Zoehrer's Ass' or the `ugly assie' (and not Aussie) who dropped his pants and displayed his rear to the players, the umpires, the crowd and the world ' where else, but in India! (The media politely left out the `r’!) Well, that would certainly fit the phrase, to make a monkey out of ' in the instant case ' oneself! So much for fair play, that too in the revered gentleman's game!
Coming back to cricket and monkeys: I am left wondering when the word `monkey' came to be connoted racist! Any answer?
Many teams from the West Indies, Kenya, Nigeria and Zimbabwe, all with coloured players, have played in India for years and not even once have we heard of a complaint of racist comments against them by the Indians. They might have had complaints against umpiring, facilities, food, weather and the like but certainly not about racism. So, how come suddenly we hear of Indians being racists on cricket fields?
Incidentally, does any one remember why Muttiah Muralitharan refused to play in Australia? Records have it that several Australian players repeatedly taunted Murali and Sanath Jayasuriya calling them not just monkeys, but `black monkeys' and sections of Aussie spectators too were heard abusing them in similar terms!
And incidentally, again, how many of us would remember that the `respected' Australian player Darren Lehman was the first cricketer in the world to be found guilty of racist comments? So much for the Aussies' respect for the spirit of the game and sportsmanship!
I do not, however, agree with Peter Roebuck who said that Ricky Ponting should be sacked for setting Aussie cricketers like `wild dogs' against the Indians: that is not cricket, I would argue, with due respect to the learned Roebuck; that is too harsh on Ponting and his team who are celebrated artistes and craftsmen of the game. But Ponting, Symonds, Hayden, Clarke and Gilchrist would do well to cricket if they stop monkeying around with this gentleman's game. Play to win, by all means and at all times, but win or lose, be gracious ' at least once in a while. After all, cricket is what made them famous, and the game is more important than all of them put together
Photo/cartoon courtesy: The Internet
Salaam Shane!
The man who enthralled the cricket world with the magic of his fingertips finally calls it a day! Shane Warne has announced his retirement from the game he enriched, like perhaps no one else, at the end of the current Ashes series.
What a remarkable career it has been, with Warne weaving webs around rival batsmen, bringing a forgotten skill back to business. In a world of macho super fast bowlers, Warne, with his prodigious spin, carved out a niche for himself; and what a way to do it! Seven centuries of wickets, ninety test match wins, a few thousand runs, scores of catches, all speak volumes of the commitment of the man with the golden locks. Records may tumble, Muralitharan may eventually overtake him, but Shane Warne will ever remain at the very pinnacle for the sheer beauty and the passion that he brought to the game.
Countries he conquered, batsmen he bedevilled, so much so that he was virtually a one-man army; but the greatness of Warne lies in the fact that he competed with the likes of McGrath and Gillespie for each one of those wickets. And it is not that he got all the tail enders out; the best of batsmen around the world bowed before him, with our own Ravi Shastri starting the flood as Warne's very first wicket.
It is a different matter that a certain Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar gave Warne nightmares and sleepless nights, as he himself admitted in all sincerity, but then the Little Master will be the first one to pay his tributes to Warne who became a legend in his own lifetime, just as Warne paid his compliments to Sachin Tendulkar and Brian Lara as the best he has bowled to. Only the greatest of the great can rise above narrowness of mind and thinking!
Shane Warne was special in more ways than one. He was not the athletic and lean one as cricketers are expected to be but certainly a mean one, if one were to go by his remarkable exploits on the field. His extra weight was always a part of the sledging vocabulary directed against him by his opponents. But the added weight did not stand in his way while the red and white orb weaved its story, when he wielded the willow with wondrous effect, or when he dived full length to kiss death to the flying ball in the slips.
But it was his finger that Warne used with such feline felicity and doubtless dexterity to unsettle many, many settled batsmen ' 699 of them to-date. And he made many others stroke-less wonders! Remember `the ball of the century' that Shane Warne bowled to scatter the wood behind the great Gatting! Indeed, anyone who has seen that special moment will vouchsafe for that indeed being `the ball of the century'; if anyone has doubts, kindly recall the bewilderment on Mike Gatting's face when he turned back to see the havoc that one ball wreaked!
And mind you, that ball was special but Warne has bowled many more magical spells in his matchlessly magnificent career. Put your mind back and recall the Ashes Series last year when as a lone fighter he kept Australia in the game or even the ongoing Ashes series in his home country. Seeing him bowl the way he is bowling today, one wonders why Shane Warne is taking a bow after all!
Whether it was a five-day Test match or a one-day international, Warne was a lethal force to reckon with. The sheer elegance of his bowling is unmatched and economy of action was his byword: a classic example of minimum effort, maximum effect! A couple of dancing steps and Warne is ready to deliver the ball, with the batsman at the receiving end not having even the wildest of idea as to which way the ball is going to turn. With any other bowler, you wait for the wicket-taking ball, but when Warne is bowling, you cannot afford to miss watching a single delivery because every ball he is bowling is a potentially wicket-taking ball!
I remember watching on television Warne bowling against the Proteas in South Africa and from seemingly disastrous situations, single-handedly throwing the game upside down: a typical case of grabbing victory from the jaws of defeat! Not many in the cricketing world can claim to be such a genius as this chosen one; little wonder then that he was acknowledged as one of the five greatest cricketers of the 20th Century: why only the last century, perhaps among the best who ever played and more importantly dignified this gentleman's game! No one, not even his bitterest of opponents and critics, will grudge him this unique distinction.
But, at the same time, as can only be expected, Shane Warne was the quintessential Aussie to boot: the same pugnacity, the same arrogance, and the same belligerence, which typify the `Ugly Aussie' image on-field. He had his share of personal problems too ' whether it was the obscene calls to assorted women, his divorce, and the doping scandal that kept him out of the World Cup and cricket for a year or even allegations of betting. The name `Shame Warne' didn't stick ' what, however, stuck was, and rightly so, the `Sultan of Spin!' Undoubtedly, the cricketing world adored him, warts and all. Misdemeanour or malfeasance, the magic never left his wrist. He enriched the game of cricket in varied ways and cricket is richer because Warne graced the game.
From Antigua to Auckland, Barbados to Brabourne, Colombo to Christchurch, Lahore to The Lord's and from the WACA to the Wanderers, Shane Keith Warne brought immense glory to cricket and also intense joy to all those who loved the game! His action and aggression were absolute, and his passion, peerless. When a batsman scores, they say he let his bat speak; on his part, Warne let his ball(s) speak, as it were (pun intended!) It is not every day that the cricketing world will throw up a Shane Warne. We may not see the likes of him again, at least for ages. As he hangs his boots today, let us doff our hats to this consummate cricketer!
Adieu Warney! We will miss your magic!
Hail Karnam Malleswari!!!
[I wrote this piece six years ago, in September 2000, when Karnam Malleswari won the bronze medal in the Sydney Olympic Games. Regrettably, the script remains the same in 2006, the only silver lining in an otherwise depressing scenario being the silver of Rajyavardhan Rathore in the Athens Olympics of 2004.]
Pilavullakandi Thekkeparambil Usha gave us hope; Karnam Malleswari realized that hope. Usha missed the bronze by 400th of a second in Los Angeles. Sixteen years later, in Sydney, Malleswari accomplished what Usha couldn't do. The glitter of this bronze medal is indeed more than that of either a silver or even the gold, for, this bronze means a lot more to a billion people for whom an Olympic medal of any colour has been a rarity. Imagine, starting Mexico, through Munich, Montreal, Moscow, Los Angeles, Barcelona, and Atlanta, India's medal tally read one gold and two bronzes. The hockey gold in Moscow lacked the sheen of the yellow metal, coming as it did in the wake of the boycott by the sports super powers; yet, a gold is a gold in Olympics, or ask any silver medallist. So, in seven Olympics, we managed to get just three medals when even smaller nations with much smaller populations were cornering medals of all hues by the dozens. After the hockey heroes of Moscow in 1980, we had to wait for the heroics of Leander Paes in Atlanta in 1996 to make us stand proudly for the tricolor to go up, even though the Jana Gana Mana has not been played in any Olympic arena in two decades. In any case, the Andhra girl has given us a billion Indians a medal to share and plenty to celebrate.
What does this bronze mean for India, Indians and Indian sports? For India and for us, Indians, starved of medals for years together at the world's most enchanting sporting festival, the lift that got Malleswari the bronze means much ' even if temporarily and in a very peripheral way, it has lifted our spirits as well: and hail her for what she has achieved! Not many have brought such cheer to us in recent times than this young woman, that too in a not a glitzy event. And, finally, India's first woman Olympic medal winner has emerged, inadvertently cocking a snook at our still highly patriarchal society. (Remember the American commentator who, after seeing Usha lead the 400 metres hurdles semi finals at Los Angeles, exclaiming, "Indian, that too, a woman?").
Mind you, there will be many to appropriate credit for Malleswari's achievement. The officialdom, weightlifting heavy weights, federation people: you name them, they will all be there. In the afterglow of the metal from Sydney, telegrams and congratulatory messages will pour in from the high and mighty ' the President, Vice-President, Prime Minister, umpteen other political big wigs and many others, who, in their times, would not have lifted even a finger, unless to point it at some opponent! Parliament might even make a reference to her accomplishment when it meets next. In home state Andhra Pradesh, Cyber Babu and his ilk will not leave Malleswari to take a breather. Awards ' cash and cars ' will be announced. A civic reception will be organised in Hyderabad and everyone else will take credit for all the kgs of weight that the poor girl lifted in Sydney. Well, she does deserve all these and much more, no doubt whatsoever about it; but then, Malleswari, better beware of these fair weather friends and admirers ' or else, she will be made a scapegoat in the many games that the big people play. The Olympic spirit will not be there when these wily ones indulge in games to suit their convenience.
Thankfully, weigh lifting, for what it is, and that too, women's' weight lifting, Malleswari may be spared by the advertisers. She may lose out financially in the process, but weight lifting as an event might be the gainer. See what advertising has done to cricket and our cricketers, and also to all other games in the country. So, we may not see her sipping colas, enjoying the fragrance of exotic perfumes, and promoting all and sundry cosmetics and toiletries, apparels and jewelry. We may not also see her on the front cover of our women's magazines, for she is no Sushmita Sen or Aishwarya Rai, Diana Hayden or Lara Dutta. But then, for sure, these magazines meant for women of the Generation X will certainly devote a column somewhere in the back, for that will be the in-thing to do, and they know best how to cash in on that. For more or less similar reasons, Bollywood directors may not rush to Karnam, offering roles against our muscle men heroes. (For all you know, the Khans and the Akshay Kumars and the Sunil Shettys, in spite of all their hulk, might not all that be interested in having Malleswari opposite them, considering her Olympian reputation!) Thankfully, so, we will not have to see her running around trees and gyrating in front of puzzled onlookers in Venice or Vermont, Sweden or Switzerland, and only doing what she is best at doing ' making us feel exhilarated and proud by her in-stadium exploits.
Yes, we have every reason to rejoice at Malleswari's remarkable achievement. Take a look at the state of Indian sports during the last quarter century and you will realize why and how Malleswari has done us proud. What has Indian sportsmen and women achieved during this period? We can easily recollect them, for they have been far and few: In hockey, our national game, we have just a World Cup victory to show, in Kuala Lumpur over two decades back, barring the faded gold of Moscow. In most other competitions, we were playing for minor positions. Even countries like South Korea that was initiated into the game in recent years, climbed far ahead of us. In tennis, (Vijay) Amritraj, along with Borg and Connors, were hailed as the ABC of future tennis. While our own A did not live up to the expectations, B(org) and C(onnors) went on to realize their full potential. This is certainly not minimizing the great joy the Amritraj brothers or subsequently Ramesh Krishnan brought to us, sports lovers. In recent times, Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi made us proud as they emerged world-beaters in a world game. Together, they raised Indian tennis to new highs, especially in Davis Cup competitions and Grand Slam events. (Sania Mirza is a recent addition) We also have in Viswanathan Anand another world champion who has done yeoman's service for the game of chess. In his golden trail, we have several Grand Masters, men and women both. To our good fortune, there is a large pool of youngsters, all world-class players, energising chess in the country of its origin. Prakash Padukone, with his winning ways and charming looks, enriched the game of badminton. Who will forget Padukone's disarming smile, while holding aloft the All England trophy? In track and field and other athletic events, but for one Usha, we have no one else to showcase, though we have had some very good stars at the Asian level, who could have done well internationally but for lack of resources and inadequate training and other facilities. Bula Chowdhuree continues her long distance swimming saga, challenging the mind and the body. In major sports and games events like football, basketball, volleyball, swimming, shooting, table tennis and the like, our presence at the international level is hardly felt. Individual performers in certain disciplines might have a couple of good results to show; beyond that, there is nothing much to write home about.
Let us not forget our wonderful cricketers! Remember the exhilarating victories of Ajit Wadekar and his boys against the mighty West Indies and the redoubtable Englishmen, away from home? The spin quartet of Bedi, Chandrashekhar, Prasanna and Venkataraghavan enthralled cricket aficionados the world over by the magic webs they spun around the batsmen. Kapil and his Devils made us world champions in a display of rare courage and raw enthusiasm in the cricketing fields of England. The picture of Kapil Dev and his players with the world cup aloft in the balcony of cricket's Mecca, Lord's, and the thousands of Indians with the tricolor fluttering in the winds is one which is etched in our memories for ever. Through these last two and a half decades, if cricket emerged as the game in India, it is largely due to the world-class performance of some of our most outstanding players. In a country bereft of heroes, it was Sunil Manohar Gavaskar, Kapil Dev Nikhanj and Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar who gave us some pride that in India too, we have amongst us heroes who can conquer the world. Sunny Gavaskar's 10,000 odd runs and 34 centuries delighted and enthralled the lovers of the game in India as much as it did in all cricket playing countries. Kapil Dev brought glory to the game with his remarkable bowling prowess as also with his all round performance. And perhaps no one else has enriched the game of cricket in recent years as the little master from Mumbai, Sachin Tendulkar. This cricketing wonder has worked wonders for Indian cricket, nay world cricket. Gavaskar, Kapil and Sachin brought tears of joy and pride to our eyes with their superlative performances in the cricketing grounds spread all around the world. They were, in no small measure, responsible for bringing the crowds back in to the stadia, thus filling the cash-starved coffers of the BCCI. Alas, with that came the commercialization of cricket, and that has been the tragedy of the most popular game in the country. Today, cricket and many cricketers stand in the dock for their alleged omissions and commissions. The fact is, success begets money, and with money comes temptations. And when that happens, the country comes second and personal pecuniary interests come first. The game has simply been hijacked by undesirable elements ' some players, officials and sponsors included. Notwithstanding the recent turmoil, let us not take away from our cricketing heroes the credit that some of them truly and rightly deserve.
So, that is our performance at the world level during the last one quarter of a century. When we keep that in mind, one can very well understand and even appreciate the euphoria surrounding Malleswari's bronze. Olympics after Olympics, when the opening day's march past takes place and when the Indian team walks in, the commentator, as if it is a routine, reminds the viewers around the world that we are a country of *** million people and we generally go back home without a medal. Sydney was no different. For a change, there was an Internet story after Malleswari's bronze that this has come as a surprise and a bonus and that otherwise India (with the obvious but inevitable reference to the size of the population) was looking for a medal either from field hockey or its tennis team. Why blame the foreign media or commentators? It remains an inescapable fact that despite our vast population, we have been a non-performing country at the world level in almost all events that call for physical excellence. Let us not blame it on poverty, lack of resources, training facilities, etc., for there are very many other countries which can also be clubbed along with India in respect of all these but which still manage to get at least a few medals in Olympics and other such world championships. The blame lies elsewhere. Utter mismanagement at all levels of the officialdom, lack of enterprise, disquieting practices with regard to selection, political interference and nepotism, lack of involvement at the individual level, and the like have been the bane of Indian sports for long. On many occasions, we have lost in crucial times from positions of vantage, from which no other country would have lost - a case of grabbing defeat from the jaws of victory! Oftentimes, we are left wondering whether we lack in self-belief. If one follows international sports events, a clear pattern is visible. What delineates the best from the rest is the will to win, the self-confidence that one can win. At the most crucial moment, the winners always tend to lift their level of performance by a notch or two ' which set them apart and help them mount the podium at the prize distribution ceremony. Usha didn't lunge forward at the finishing tape and lost the bronze by 400th of a second. Malleswari gritted her teeth and lifted that extra weight which won her the bronze. Usha will never find mention in Olympic chronicles, despite her best performance; Malleswari will ever be a part of the Olympic saga. Even bronze leaves its imprint on Olympic history ' Usha and Malleswari can vouch for that, though in different ways. Hail Malleswari!
