Will the game ever be the same again?
I have been a cricket fan for over four decades now
Partab Ramchand
12-Apr-2000
I have been a cricket fan for over four decades now. I remember it was
in 1959 that I installed Polly Umrigar, the heroic Indian figure of
the fifties and early sixties, as my first boyhood hero. Soon, thanks
to the writings of Neville Cardus, Ray Robinson and Robertson Glasgow
and the broadcasts of John Arlott, Jim Swanton and Alan MacGilvray the
heroes grew in number - Jack Hobbs, Victor Trumper, CK Nayudu, Stan
McCabe, SF Barnes, Frank Worrell, Alan Davidson, Peter May, Derek
Shackleton, John Reid, Ted Dexter, Ken Barrington, Clarrie Grimmett,
Jim Laker.
Like millions of other cricket fans worldwide, I followed their
exploits through newspaper reports and the radio or their deeds of
days long ago through books and later through videos. And for over
three decades now, like thousands of other journalists, I have been
fortunate enough to get an opportunity to write on the game, take a
closer look at it and come to know some of cricket's big names
intimately.
Today, like countless cricket lovers round the world, I am dismayed,
despondent and devastated. Is this the gentleman's game we were all
brought up to love and respect? We took the introduction of the TV
umpire, the match referee and neutral officials in our stride. After
all, we consoled ourselves, these were required to curb growing
indiscipline among the players. Moreover we agreed that technological
advances were necessary to solve the growing disputes. We took the
appearance of helmets, chest guards and elbow pads as part of the
required equipment to tackle the growing menace posed by a quartet of
fast bowlers.
Over the years, cricket has survived controversies like Bodyline which
threatened to rip apart the British Empire and the Packer crisis which
seemed set to split the cricketing world. But then these wounds were
healed even if the deep scars remained. However can cricket survive
the latest scandal? And even if it does, will the game be the same
again? Cricket has long ceased to be a gentleman's game, a fact
accepted even by the die hard fans. But we all thought that there
were still some things sacrosanct - like the performances on the field
or the result of a match. When even this can be manipulated, when the
core of the game is destroyed, what else is there to savour? Perhaps
the time has come to recall the mock obituary published in `The
Sporting Times' in 1882 that led to the term `The Ashes' and rewrite
it to suit the present scenario:
In affectionate rememberance of the game of cricket which
died at Durban on April 11, 2000 Deeply lamented by a
large circle of sorrowing friends and acquaintances.
NB: The body will be cremated and the Ashes taken to Hambledon.
The first time I came across the dreaded, ugly phrase ``match fixing''
was during the 1987 World Cup. Being an avowed fan of the game, I
dismissed such talk as baseless. Through the 90s, even as such
allegations now spread from the sub continent to other places, I
refused to be convinced, probably because of my traditional belief
that cricketers would never stoop to such levels. Also, being a facts
and figures man, I always wanted proof before I could make up my mind
that such an appalling practice existed. However as there can be no
smoke without fire, the revelations by Manoj Prabhakar, the eventful
happenings in Pakistan and the disclosures by Australians Mark Waugh,
Shane Warne and Tim May meant that one could not turn a deaf ear or a
blind eye to these developments. Something was wrong somewhere and a
proper investigation would have been in order. But the International
Cricket Council, the parent body in a position to conduct the
investigations, turned both a deaf ear and a blind eye.
In the mid 90s, the Hindi phrase `paisa liya hoga' (they must have
taken money) became commonplace whenever a fancied side lost to an
underdog or when a team went down after being in a winning
position. The latest squalid episode not only gives credence to the
phrase but it also means, regrettably, that one has to pause and think
before appreciating the ethereal qualities of the game. Was that
really an unplayable delivery or did the batsman throw away his
wicket? Was that six an ideal blend of power and timing or was the
bowler just offering the ball to be deliberately hit? Was that a
miraculous stop in the field or was it the batsman's aim to get run
out? Was that a genuine misfield or was it a 10,000 dollar dropped
catch?
I am sorry, folks, but the fun has gone out of the game which long
ceased to be just a game anyway. I, hitherto a die hard cricket fan,
hereby resolve that I am going to persuade my 14-year-old cricket
loving son to take up tennis. That is, if he has not already decided
to do so.