And yet, somehow, I am a little put off by the thought of competitive sport. My earliest first-hand experience of approaching a sport competitively was swimming in middle school. Overnight, my conversations changed from being about how cold the water was and whether I thought Ash could ever tame Charizard (a Pokémon character- for the unawares) to a talk of timings and techniques. What had once been an afternoon of fun was now approached with some amount of trepidation. I was no longer merely happy with the fact that I was a good swimmer and enjoyed swimming; I now needed to ensure that I would be on the team. Eventually, my interest in the sport tailed off until it was rekindled almost a year later by the scorching heat of Bombay’s summer.

My second brush with competition came barely a year later when I found myself on the fringes of the school cricket team. I had started playing at the school ground (read: parking lot) because friends in my building had stopped coming down to play thanks to our collective obsession with board exams. Once again, it started off as me going to play a sport I enjoyed, and culminated in me struggling for my place in the XI. The stories I’d tell my parents on going home changed from ‘woah, I actually swung a ball’ to ‘I think I’m better suited for this position than him’.  Wanting to hang on to my love for the sport, and buoyed by the fact that a whole set of friends had finished their boards, another sport was quit.

Recently, I had occasion, yet again, to quit a sport in order to hold on to my love for it. This time it was debating. You may laugh at my characterization of debating as a sport, but that was precisely my problem: along with several others, I had begun approaching debating as a sport. It started with a love for debating for the sake of debating itself. I was fascinated by the idea of being forced to think about things I’d never cared for, often in support of positions I abhorred, trying to find that argument that would clinch it. A year in, and I found myself hankering after breaks and wins. Like many other law school debaters, I was reading up as much as I could to be prepared for any motion that could come my way. Arguments were not always things that were arrived upon with great thought in those fifteen minutes leading to a whoop of delight; they would often be ones I had used before and was refining or had read in an editorial. Thinking was on its way out.

The fact that competition changed the way I approached the sport wasn’t all. In each instance, with little in the first and a lot in the last, came along sniping and whispering. There would be talk of who was better and quite often, it wouldn’t be very pleasant. At the start, I would always tell myself not to let others affect my enjoyment of something I loved. But it did.

Competition does push us in ways that we wouldn’t dream of otherwise. I have swum with cuts all over my hands from a fall, stinging with each stroke, merely because that practice session was essential. But if it stopped being fun, what was the point?

It has been over a year that India last won a Test match. The win against England at Lord’s, though negated by the 3-1 series defeat, was, indeed, memorable. Nonetheless, India has come agonisingly close to winning a Test match on two other occasions as well. Each of these wins, had they materialised, would have been historic Test victories. What is interesting to note about the two matches is that it is the ‘aggression’ professed by the team and by their captain that was credited for the team having made it that close to victory. However, it may be prudent to wonder whether it was the so-called ‘aggression’ that in fact accounted for the team not having crossed the line.

Please note that Virat Kohli has not sought to be aggressive only in terms of strategy but also in terms of team selection. Raw pace, wrist-spin and attacking strokeplay has been his mantra. The inclusion of Varun Aaron, Rohit Sharma and Karn Sharma in the team at Adelaide and the inclusion of the first two in the team at Galle make the same pretty evident. Importantly, at Adelaide, Aaron and Karn were selected over Bhuveneshwar Kumar and Ashwin and at Galle, Aaron and Rohit were chosen over Bhuveneshwar and Cheteshwar Pujara. In my opinion, these selections are what contributed to India missing out on two famous Test victories. Ashwin has been India’s most successful bowler since and Pujara is not known to plant his foot outside leg to defend a ball pitching on off on a Day Four subcontinent wicket. Bhuvi, though not at the peak of his form, does surely have the potential and the ability to stem the flow of runs and to chip in with the bat.

At Adelaide, both Aaron and Karn leaked between 4 and 6 runs per over. Moreover, neither of them looked incisive or came close to troubling the Aussie batsmen. Aaron’s performance at Galle was similar. In fact, at Galle, Aaron even came to be smashed all over the park by Chandimal when Sri Lanka was dismissed for 183 in the First Innings. In the Second Innings, it may be harsh to expect him to have taken multiple wickets on a third day track. However, it can be expected of him to check the flow of runs when a batsman is virtually scoring at a run a ball so as to enable the spinners to have a better chance at the other end. Unfortunately, he failed to do that as well.

The reason I stress on the bowling performances in both these matches is because, in my opinion, the matches were not lost entirely in the chase but in the number of runs conceded. One can only wonder how different the target could have been at Adelaide, had Ashwin been in the team and how much lesser we could have lost by at Galle had a seamer bowled economically on Day Three.

Having said so, as is often the case with India the batsmen could have salvaged the situation. But, as we know, this was not to be. Rohit Sharma, in my opinion, failed to deliver at crucial moments in both the matches. At Adelaide, India was 242-4 in the Fourth Innings-just 122 short of a historic win- when Rohit Sharma walked out to bat. At Galle, India was 30-2 in a low-scoring chase with the runs dried up and Herath bowling once again with all his guile when he walked in. Both times, the match was interestingly poised, because at Adelaide we did not have any recognised batsmen left in the pavilion and at Galle we desperately needed to shift the momentum in our favour before the chase got out of hand.  Rohit, though, batted like a fish out of water- without any foot work whatsoever on both occasions. In each match he threw his wicket away with a careless shot. Though at Adelaide we did not have any other batsmen to play in his place, one can only wonder how different the chase could have been at Galle with a steady Pujara in the middle.

Did India, then, not miss out on two famous victories because of an aggressive team selection?

As the action now shifts to Colombo, it will be interesting to see whether Kohli will continue with this ‘aggression’ in team selection or will opt for pragmatism instead. Aaron, Karn and Rohit may well be game changers. Their aggression may well win us moments in the game. But, can they win us a match? Test matches victories are hard-earned. Victories away from home are even more difficult. An aggression in the approach towards the game- an intent to win is desirable. But does that mean that we compromise on prudence in this approach? The team selection at Colombo should be interesting to note.

Cricket, the Board for Cricket Control in India and cricket fans are in a strange relationship triangle . I suppose love is definitely involved, but I won’t go so far as to call it a love triangle!

The BCCI is the (sole) guardian of cricket’s interests in India. BCCI organizes the cricket, selects the players, creates a fixture list and organizes games across the breadth of the country.

Cricket is many things to many fans. An escape, a drug, a love affair that has its ups and downs but never dies, a comforting presence, a memory of ages past, a thing of nationalistic pride, a source of entertainment and fun, or just a sport to be followed with fellow sports fans and create a community of like minded individuals.

Whatever their respective relationships to cricket, the BCCI and the fans have never enjoyed the best of relationships. To the fans, the BCCI is the bumbling, corrupt and incompetent monolith incapable of thinking about anything but money. To the BCCI, the fans are a fickle and dangerous mob who are like a bunch of petulant children constantly in need of amusement and mollification. Yet, the BCCI needs the fans. Cricket in India survives because of the passion of the fans.

And the fans need the BCCI. Where India is in the cricket world was not foreordained simply because of the opened up economy and the demographic dividend. The BCCI has done the hard work of spreading cricket to the smaller centres, created the wealth and infrastructure,  and stood up for India’s rightful position as the most important country in world cricket.

How should fans therefore relate to the BCCI and vice versa?

It is here that we find the problem of accountability.

Accountability, a word more often used in the context of businesses and the State within a specific framework of laws, poses problems when used in the context of a privately run and managed sports body and the fans of that sport who are not members of the sports body. Unlike with governments, cricket fans can’t vote the BCCI leadership out. Unlike with public companies, cricket fans can’t force the company to act as a a majority of shareholders want it to. Unlike with businesses we can’t just take our custom across the road because cricket is not a fungible commodity (whatever the economists among you may think!).

The only option left to the cricket fan therefore is perhaps the Courts.

That path seemed closed by the judgment of the Supreme Court of India in Zee Telefilms v Union of India, a case that spawned the Indian Cricket League and indirectly, the Indian Premier League as well. The long and short of it is that Zee Telefilms which lost the bid to broadcast cricket in India to ESPN Star Sport challenged BCCI’s decision to cancel Zee Telefilm’s bid in the Supreme Court of India under Article 32 of the Constitution on the basis that BCCI’s decision was unconstitutional. This required a two step argument – 1) to show that BCCI was “state” as defined in Article 12 of the Constitution and 2) since it was “State” it was bound by the equality clause of Article 14 of the Constitution of India which has also been interpreted by the Courts to include a duty not to make arbitrary decisions. In a narrow 3-2 ruling the Supreme Court of India threw out Zee Telefilm’s case on the ground that BCCI was not “State” for the purposes of the Constitution. The majority ruled that since the BCCI was not government run, funded or controlled, or perform any governmental functions, it could not be State whereas the minority judgment analyzed the BCCI’s functions and found that it was in fact “State”.

The majority judgment is of course right. It had no choice but to apply a 7 judge Bench decision of the Supreme Court of India in Pradeep Kumar Biswas v Indian Institute of Chemical Biology which laid down the test to determine whether a given body is “State” or not for the purposes of Article 12. Broadly, the test the Supreme Court laid down in Pradeep Kumar Biswas relates to whether or not the body in question is created by a law (as opposed to created under a law), has law making powers itself and is performing functions that would otherwise be performed by the Government. The majority, on applying this test to the BCCI, found that it did not meet that test and therefore held that it was not “State” under Article 12 and Zee could therefore not approach the Supreme Court directly to seek enforcement of fundamental rights against the BCCI.

Yet, the door was not shut entirely against litigants aggrieved by the BCCI’s actions. A crucial passage in the majority judgment goes on to state,

 Be that as it may, it cannot be denied that the Board does discharge some duties like the selection of an Indian cricket team, controlling the activities of the players and others involved in the game of cricket. These activities can be said to be akin to public duties or State functions and if there is any violation of any constitutional or statutory obligation or rights of other citizens, the aggrieved party may not have a relief by way of a petition under Article 32. But that does not mean that the violator of such right would go scot-free merely because it or he is not a State. Under the Indian jurisprudence there is always a just remedy for violation of a right of a citizen. Though the remedy under Article 32 is not available, an aggrieved party can always seek a remedy under the ordinary course of law or by way of a writ petition under Article 226 of the Constitution which is much wider than Article 32. (emphasis mine)

The implication is that anyone aggrieved with the BCCI can still approach the High Courts seeking relief under Article 226 for the violation of any legal right. It does not even need to be a fundamental right protected by the Constitution. Under Article 226, the powers of the High Court to give relief suitable to the facts of the case are much wider than the Supreme Court of India under Article 32.

As I’ve written before, this little door of opportunity was seized upon by the Kerala High Court to begin criminal proceedings under the Prevention of Corruption Act, 1986 against officials of the Kerala Cricket Association for misuse of funds. The Supreme Court upheld this order relying precisely upon the above passage from Zee Telefilms.

The Supreme Court hasn’t yet categorically held that the BCCI is an “authority” for the purposes of Article 226. Yet, the Supreme Court has acknowledged that some of the functions carried on by the BCCI would mean that it could be treated as an “authority” for the purposes of Article 226 of the Constitution.

Theoretically, therefore, there is no bar preventing an aggrieved fan approaching the Constitutional Courts of India against the BCCI.The problem however is showing what legal right has been violated by the BCCI’s actions.  Obviously for regular civil disputes relating to contract, property, et al the civil courts can always be approached. For tax and competition law cases, the appropriate regulators have all been actively at the heels of the BCCI.  The difficulty is in showing how the average cricket fan of the country has a legal right to demand that the BCCI be run along certain lines.

One possible route to enforcing accountability is the Right to Information Act which can be applied to all “public authorities”. However, “public authorities” defined under Section 2(h) are only those bodies created by the Constitution, Central or State Laws or substantially controlled, funded and financed by the State or Central Government. The BCCI and respective state associations (except the Services Sports Control Board and the Railways Sports Promotion Board) clearly do not fall under these definitions. Only an amendment to the RTI Act, which brings sports associations which select national teams for that sport, irrespective of how such associations are constituted can bring the BCCI under this Act.

Of all the various “stakeholders” that the BCCI repeatedly harps about, the average cricket fan enjoying the game, either at the stadium or elsewhere is the one who has the least power in her dealings with the BCCI. Advertisers  and sponsors have the power to withdraw their sponsorship. The various constituent associations of the BCCI have the all important vote, and indirectly their members as well. Players, at least those on the State teams and the national enjoy the protections of a contract and a professional relationship with the Board. Perhaps more could be done to empower them, but surely they are nowhere near as voiceless as the ordinary fan.

In the darkest moments of despair, I wonder if all the talk about accountability is laughably silly when it comes to cricket and the BCCI. After all, to borrow a popular Marx-phorism, is the pusher “accountable” to the junkie? If the weed is good, if the highs are accessible and available, what does the junkie care beyond that and as long as the money pours in, and as long as the the law stays away, what does the pusher care? So sometimes there are turf wars, new druglords come and old ones fade away, as long as the goods are being delivered, what do the junkies care?

But I know I’m being unfair to the fan. The fan doesn’t need a metaphorical hit to get through the day. Junkies don’t spend hours debating the  relative merits of drugs or the technical excellence in the manufacture or worry about the future of the drug for that matter. To be sure there will always be the casual fan who’ll switch off and shift to something else occupy the time. But the cricket fan, the one on whose back the BCCI struts the world scene, dictates terms to Governments and poses itself as the envy of the cricket world cares, and cares deeply about the cricket.

Is it too much to expect the BCCI to acknowledge that fact once in a while at least?

]]> http://www.criticaltwenties.in/lawthejudiciary/using-question-with-the-wolf-or-enforcing-accountability-from-the-bcci-with-the-law/feed 3 http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/alastair-cook-an-appreciation http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/alastair-cook-an-appreciation#comments Thu, 06 Dec 2012 20:58:29 +0000 Suhrith http://www.criticaltwenties.in/?p=5150 Watching Alastair Cook bat can be tiresome and fun in equal measure. Tiresome because his modus operandi—usually—is to wear the bowlers down, and pick them off when they err, in a punctilious, efficient manner rather than with any flash or bluster. Fun because his batting is a personification of control and balance, a lesson in tranquility and thoroughness. He hardly ever hits a ball in anger, except perhaps when he’s cutting behind point, yet at the end of the day the score next to his name represents a colossus. There is nothing lumbering about his batting, bar a jerky back-lift, but neither is there a standout stroke—no shot that screams out at you for its elegance or for its bravado. On Thursday, he was steadfast, as he has been for much of the last 18 months, coolly skipping past such giants of the game, Boycott, Cowdrey, his own teammate Pietersen and, most notably, the mythical Wally Hammond in cracking his twenty third test century, and becoming the youngest, at 27, to scale 7000 Test runs.

Gideon Haigh in writing recently about Jacques Kallis made reference to Amarillo Slim’s advice to players of Texas Hold’ Em: “play fast in a slow game, slow in a fast game”. As is the case with Kallis, Cook’s career strikerate has never crossed 50 once, constantly hovering around the 48 mark, at which it presently finds itself. There are sessions of play when Cook’s batting can seem dour and obstinate, but to accuse it of lacking inspiration would be tantamount to questioning the very pursuit of excellence.

Cook’s 136 (not-out at the time of writing) in the ongoing Eden Gardens Test was once more a statement of purpose and industry, an outstanding example of batsmanship. The pitch admittedly looked placid, but when you consider that India had floundered its way to a relatively meager 316, Cook’s innings stands out even more as a pillar of majesty. Coming as it did on the back of hundreds in consecutive test matches (a fighting effort in vain in Ahmadabad and a match-winning display in Mumbai) there was a feeling of inevitability about this innings—as though it had been foreordained almost. But it was none the poorer for that.

When he’s at his best, Cook’s footwork is a real treat to watch. Not from an aesthetic standpoint, as it can be with, say, Michael Clarke, but through a measure of its effectiveness. It’s staggering, for instance, as Sanjay Manjrekar pointed out in commentary, how deep Cook can go into the crease when playing strokes square of the wicket. There is a minimalism about his footwork, but he is rarely found wanting because of it. He doesn’t plunk his front foot forward nor does he remain utterly still. The only quirk is in his hands, when he lifts his bat backwards in a jerk, but for the most part his batting is a perfect riposte to the ball that is bowled. And the tempo of his batting means that you can zone in and out of the Test, as he moves along like a serene stream.

But every now and then Cook will shock you. Sport, as with any other form of art, is at its best when it catches you by surprise. And what I’ll remember most from his century on Thursday was a six that he hit off Ashwin shortly after lunch—a little hop down the pitch was followed by a wonderfully clean and straight hit that cleared the boundary with ease. It struck the eye at the time, and it continues to resonate even now.

But let’s first consider Edward Cowan, shall we? A player, who not too long ago looked destined to miss the boat, and who having finally made it looked ill-suited to the form’s rigours—he certainly showed that he could bat time, but as his average of just under 30 over seven Tests showed, he had struggled to make the runs needed to solidify his place in the team. Cowan even wrote—and spoke—eloquently about the travails of the sport, the aspects that make it both implausibly hard and intensely exhilarating. His book, In the Firing Line, written in the form of a diary, is a similarly excellent read that lays bare the difficulties of a first class cricketer with remarkable honesty. Cowan’s story is both interesting and inspiring largely because he is, as Jarrod Kimber wrote in this piece, like you, me, and the other guy: an ordinary bloke.

Taking strike against Dale Steyn, the world’s best fast bowler, and the rest of his outstanding cohorts, at the Gabba must have surely been a surreal moment even for Cowan, but he came through the examination with a sense of quiet assurance and a Test match century. It wasn’t a pretty innings—Cowan’s ungainly back lift is a particular sore on the eyes—but it was one that was planned to perfection. For much of the early parts of his knock, which began shortly after tea on the third day, Cowan compelled himself to refrain from the front-foot drive, and left balls outside the off stump with wonderful precision. Anything short, however, was smoothly pulled, mostly in front of square. The result: he got a good measure of the pitch even as the scoreboard ticked along at a fair clip. The early part of his innings was even more notable when you consider that his first three partners were removed before the team’s score had crossed 40. David Warner edged a beauty from Steyn to the slips; debutant Rob Quiney hooked one to fine leg off Morkel; and Ponting was once again done in by the vulnerabilities that have increasingly plagued him in the beginning of an innings. Cowan, though, was composed, confident and polished. He began the fourth day on 49 together with a well-set Michael Clarke, and with the South Africans uncharacteristically erring in line, he unveiled a greater array of strokes, particularly a sleek cover drive, which he used to put away any ball verging on the over-pitched. And finally when he reached his first Test century, just after lunch, with a sweet pull off Philander, he celebrated with joy and dignity, a hop and a leap, followed by a little look upwards at the sky, thanking his mentor, Peter Roebuck, who had died on the same day, last year (the moment is captured splendidly by Kimber in a piece for Cricinfo).

Every moment of Cowan’s fledgling international career has been a rigorous examination, a test if you will. It is a tribute to his supreme mental skills that he has come through these initial trials with a century of the highest class against the world’s best bowling attack. But most importantly, it serves as another indicator of the beauty of Test cricket—Cowan’s journey from adequate first class batsman to a Test match centurion has been nothing short of alluring even if one caught up with it only upon his breaking into the Australian team.

I am reminded here of what Simon Barnes of The Times once wrote: “A one-day game is a mere short story, a Test series is a roman-fleuve, a series of novels that unwinds over the course of a season.” Eddie Cowan is only eight Tests into his career, but just his story alone—if one were to consider it complete today—feels like a roman-flueve—the narrative built brick by brick, with ebbs and flows, changes in pace and rhythm, beginning brightly, going through a period of attrition, and ending on a romantic high. No sport can offer a story of this ilk, which is why its distressing to see some of the figures that the brilliant Gideon Haigh offers in this post.

By Haigh’s account (aided by statistician Ric Finlay) there was an average of 44 Tests a year between 1995 and 2011 including 55 in 2001 and 54 in 2002, but so far in 2012, even though we are almost half way into November, there have only been 29. The blame, Haigh says, lies with the burgeoning popularity of T-20 internationals and the various other T-20 leagues including the Indian Premier League and Australia’s Big Bash. Test match cricket, the most beautiful form of sport, is dwindling at a rate of knots. The solutions are sadly not immediately apparent. The ICC’s idea of a Test championship featuring playoffs between the top four ranked teams is a good one even if not flawless (as Haigh points out), but the real problem lies elsewhere—there is no space, I feel, for three forms of the same game. The perniciousness of T-20s notwithstanding, what’s clear is that it’s a form that’s going nowhere in the immediate future. One wouldn’t be ill-advised in saying that the 50-over game should be the one to suffer, but considering the popularity of the form’s World Cup, I suspect it isn’t going anywhere either. All of this leaves Test cricket on a slippery slope—cherish it while you can, as Haigh says, but also hope that someone smart can find the magic potion.

It is no secret that cricket is the most popular sport in India. Its reach is so far that it is impossible for any other sport to even dream of being the number one sport in the country. But number two? That’s what everyone is fighting for. As less as the reach is compared to cricket, it is still, as an absolute number, remarkable to be in second position. In recent years, with the slow death of hockey, football and basketball have emerged as leading candidates eager to catch that spot. Within the next five years, basketball is headed in all the right directions to make that spot its own in the country.

To grow as a sport a lot of things need to click, and at the same time. Awareness, internal growth, funds just to name a few. It is not often this is said about governing bodies in the country, but the Basketball Federation of India (BFI) is an organization that is well aware of the growth bubble and is making all the right moves to try and cement that second spot. A lot of it goes down to a man named Harish Sharma, who recently expired. Mr. Sharma was a visionary, not only with respect to ideas, but also with execution. He tried to build a model that was beneficial to all parties involved – players, coaches, as well as potential investors.

Investors is the biggest key word here, and the one that will tip things in favour of basketball by a long way. In the last couple of years, Indian basketball has been significantly improved by two major deals. The NBA, by far the world’s best basketball spectacle, has signed up a deal with the BFI to promote the sport in the country. Being the lucrative market that India is, the NBA wants to make the most of it, much like they did with China 15-20 years ago. The effect of its work in China is there for everyone to see. Be it medal winning performances, or Yao Ming, or just the sheer interest in the sport the country has, a lot of it is attributed to the NBA’s work. The NBA has partnered with Mahindra to start community leagues, and school leagues to target both the casual fan, as well as the grass roots hence covering both potential markets. The NBA has also committed to refurbishing and building state of the art infrastructure in multiple places across India.

In addition to the NBA memorandum, sports entertainment leader IMG has signed up long term with Reliance to kick start a professional league. Two years into the deal, both parties have made press releases to confirm that everything is on track, and we are rather close to a well planned professional league. It is important here to take note of the careful planning going in to make it a worthwhile venture that also has longevity. As we have seen with the likes of PHL, poor planning can yield immediate results but fail in the long run. The positives that a professional league ensures are mouth watering. On one hand it gives players a chance to take up the sport seriously, and for a living, and on the other hand it provides for multiple revenue sources like media rights, merchandising and so on.

The rise in popularity and the investments from abroad are not going unnoticed. Television channels are making the most of the bubble. In the last couple of years the amount of telecast of the NBA has gone up tremendously. From two games a week not too long ago to, up to six games a week shown live, not forgetting to add replays and extra programming, the NBA fan in India is watching a lot more hoops than he or she used to.
All is not about money and corporate bigs, the sport per se is also making huge progress. More progress that it was in previous years, as well as more progress than most other competitive sports. More emphasis at all levels is going on all round player development. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that an Under-18 team of today is far superior to one from say, five years ago, be it at club, state or national level. The difference in the senior team will of course not be that high, because the benefits of what is sown now, will only be reaped in time to come. The BFI hired two top class, experienced coaches from the USA to coach the national men’s as well as women’s teams. The progress is evident in our teams finishing in positions higher than they normally do in international tournaments conducted by the governing body of the sport FIBA.

All of this progress will be truly elevated to the next level, if an Indian makes it big on the international stage, and for the moment, the country’s hopes rests on the shoulder of a young Punjabi lad named Satnam Singh Bhamra. A quick Google search will tell you about the potential of this immensely talented 16 year old that has now been handpicked by IMG and BFI for a sports scholarship. Satnam plays for the U-16, U-18 as well as the senior national team. The 7 foot giant was awarded for his performances in the FIBA Asia tournament where his performances made waves all around the world. The best part? He was playing against kids older than him. And he is still considered really raw. There are multiple prospective careers like this that have gone bad with one mistake, but so far so good for the way the BFI have handled his growth. You can be sure that if he makes it big, he will have the same, if not a bigger impact than what Yao Ming had for China.

Going by all these things, and how carefully the development is planned, along with the support from organizations with expertise as well as reach, things look very bright for basketball in India. In two to three years time, it would be a safe approximation to state that basketball will be well and truly the clear number two in Indian sports.

[Photo Credit: The Hindu]

I write this not to praise Tendulkar, but to denounce the hundred.

1. It has come in a game India  lost.

2. It was the cause of the loss (he scored too slowly).

3. It took the focus away from the rest of the team on the game itself.

4. The year long drama waiting for this hundred has clearly affected the man and the team negatively.

5.  It is no indicator of the form that he has been in of late (in Tests and ODIs).

6. The year long focus on the hundredth hundred has meant that we’ve not paid enough attention to the complete disarray the team is in right now. The disarray has happened in front of our eyes but very few eyes have been focused on the causes and solutions of the problem and far more have been obsessing over the hundredth hundred.

7. It is perhaps his most meaningless hundred (in both senses). It didn’t possess the boy-on-the-burning-deck grit of the 114 at Perth, the ferocious beauty (and utility) of the twin hundreds in Sharjah, the spine tingling relevance of the 100 at Chepauk post the Mumbai-terror-attack, the epic Greek-tragedy of the other Chennai hundred (and to a lesser extent the 175 in Hyderabad), the barrier breaking nature of the 200 or the sheer self-denial and strength of will that went into the 241 at Sydney.

All of these hundreds mean something to me and most others. When we tell our long-suffering descendants (yet another) Sachin story, it will be one of these.

Of the cuts and pulls on that Perth bunsen burner as boy barely taller than the stumps. Of the many barriers of pain he walked through under that wrenching Chennai sun to hold up a faltering batting lineup. Of the elevation we all felt when, for two days in Sharjah, he was the most invincible batsman on the face of the planet. Of the tears we wept with him at the emotional release of that hundred after the terror attacks.

As with all good devotees, I’m going to end up blaming the worshippers and not the deity.

We expected too much. We wanted a sign. We wanted affirmation of our own beliefs.

When they were not forthcoming, we raged, ranted and raved at the deity.

At the end of it all, the deity’s just a man. Flesh, blood, bone and sinew.

We refuse to believe that.

——

*I’m not using “God” here in the times of India headline sense, but from this DFW piece

There were fleeting displays of brilliance in the first two tests from Sachin Tendulkar – who is still in search of the vaunted 100^th international ton – but he has consistently fallen short of imposing his will. Rahul Dravid, magnificent in England when no one around him rose above mediocrity, has looked grotesque every time he’s batted in the series. That he’s been bowled, often through the gate, in each of the tests doesn’t help either. But with Dravid it has never been only about technical perfection – some of his greatest innings have, in fact, lacked textbook purity. It has been his ability to come on top through a mighty struggle against all adversities, whether it is playing on the wickedest of wickets or against the fiercest of opposition that has been his most outstanding quality. In Australia, not only has his batting looked ugly, but he’s also seemed incapable of rising above some of these adversities. V.V.S. Laxman, one of cricket’s most artful match-winners, has scarcely made runs away from home in the last two years, and his celebrated hand-eye coordination is certainly not what it once was. Virender Sehwag and Gautam Gambhir have likewise been less than ordinary lately – yes, India have struggled for many years to find a consistently good opening partnership, but the pair has been anything but consistently good in recent times.  Away from home in the last three years, Sehwag averages a meager 32.55, while since the beginning of 2010, Gambhir has recorded only a single century, averaging just 32.05. Numbers can of course be misleading, but these are certainly not figures that help teams win test matches.

The time for mere introspection has passed. The time to enforce a seamless transition has also passed. Where youngsters could have once been eased into the eleven, they now need to be thrust into it. Laxman’s place in the pantheon of greats may be assured, but it has been reported that he may not even make the team for the fourth test at Adelaide. It shouldn’t have come to this; he has performed a terrific service to Indian cricket, and in the ideal circumstances he would deserve a proper farewell. But there is no place for sentiment in sport, certainly not when you are down 0-3 in a four match series. It continues to baffle the mind that Rohit Sharma is yet to make his test match debut – had the transition been more structured, he’d have been playing a pivotal role in this series. But regardless, he must be given his chance in the fourth test in place of Laxman, whether or not Laxman chooses to retire. Ajinkya Rahane, Sharma’s teammate at Mumbai, who has made oodles of runs in domestic cricket, must also be accorded a place in the team. This, though, would entail a tougher decision of dropping one of Sehwag, Gambhir or Dravid – something, which I doubt, the authorities would be prepared to take responsibility for.

The root of India’s problems, though, goes far deeper than issues of selection, and is entrenched in the shortsighted, supercilious attitude of the B.C.C.I., exemplified by its president, N. Srinivasan’s reported remarks after the defeat at Perth: “Next New Zealand is coming to India and it will be followed by England and Australia. We will beat these three teams on our own soil. They cannot beat us here and we will feel very happy.” That the president of India’s cricket board is willing to virtually forego its games away from home shows the incredibly myopic vision of the game’s governing authority in India.

This is a real pity for India is not lacking in talent, certainly not as far as the batting – which has been in shambles in Australia – is concerned. Ajinkya Rahane, Rohit Sharma, Abhinav Mukund, Subramaniam Badrinath and Cheteshwar Pujara have all performed with aplomb in domestic cricket, and certainly deserve a sustained chance at the highest level. Dravid’s performance in 2011 – in which he scored five test match centuries – notwithstanding his display in Australia, perhaps, indicates that he still has runs left in him. But if he is to be retained, he must be pulled down the order, and Virat Kohli – who showed that he has the temperament for test cricket with his displays at the WACA – must be allowed a continued run at one-down. India also needs to think of Rahane and Mukund as viable successors to Sehwag and Gambhir, who cannot be carried on for too much longer solely on the basis of their reputations. Sachin Tendulkar in whatever time he has spent batting in Australia still easily looks India’s best batsman, but nobody should be considered bigger than the team, not even Tendulkar. I am not suggesting that India should, at once, axe Tendulkar and Dravid, but if you’re going to suffer such mammoth defeats as India has in Australia, you might as well do so with youngsters in your team.

Just as worrying as the batting displays has been M.S. Dhoni’s captaincy. Dhoni has always had a laid-back, casual approach to the job – when it works he looks cool and brilliant, and when it doesn’t he looks unconcerned and uninspiring. But the demeanor apart, neither has he looked like a good leader of men nor has his tactics been up to scratch. That he’s batted like a hapless tailender hasn’t helped either. Virender Sehwag who is the vice captain for the current tour has never showed any interest in the job, and in any event his form with the bat scarcely helps further his case. Gambhir is, perhaps, the only other contender, but his batting form has been worrying too, and his long-term future in the side is by no means settled. This then leaves us with Virat Kohli – who for all his indiscipline – has, since his Under-21 days, been considered as a future captain. In recent times, transition to test match captaincy has generally occurred via the ODI path. There has indeed been nothing to complain about Dhoni’s performance as captain in the shorter format, but assuming India wants to prioritize test cricket – which it admittedly doesn’t, but nontheless – it may not be the worst of ideas to consider Kohli, at first, for the ODI vice-captaincy with a view to him taking on the job in the not-so-distant future.

In a series in which the batsmen have given the bowlers so little to play with, it may be unfair to heap much blame on them, but Ishant Sharma’s form, in particular, has been worrying. The verve and the talent that the displayed the last time he was in Australia has been completely non-existent. It is difficult to point a finger at the exact reasons for Ishant’s decline, but none of the consistency in line and length that he once displayed has been evident. Umesh Yadav, while terrific in phases, does not have the reliability of a James Pattinson, who is three years junior to him. That said, Umesh’s raw pace and aggression means that his bowling can certainly be worked upon. What India doesn’t want to see, though, is a regression on lines akin to what Ishant has gone through. Zaheer Khan still retains a lot of his magic, particularly when bowling with the old ball, but it’s doubtful he has too many years left in him. Sreesanth and R.P. Singh who have played important roles for India in away victories have fallen by the wayside, but it is encouraging to see that Irfan Pathan is beginning to make a comeback into the side. Managing the fast bowling group is far harder with the depth in India’s coffins not as rich as its batting talent. But the BCCI’s decision to pick a fast-bowling pool and identify bowlers who would form the bench strength has been one of the more encouraging ones in recent times.

For the average Indian fan, the displays in England and Australia have been far more disappointing than the consistent mediocrity of the early nineties, where the expectations on the team, at any rate, were lower. As daft as it sounds, India went into both these tours as genuine contenders, but perhaps, the team has needed these poundings to grasp the malaise that has slowly been building up. But all things considered, if these defeats do result in relatively wholesale changes, as they should, India are certainly in for an exciting, even if, potentially, painful phase. Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma are two of the finest young batting talents in the world and I am looking forward – as I am sure many others are – to see their fruition as test match batsmen. The darkest hour is just before the dawn.

Let me say it up front. I dislike Virat Kohli. I dislike the way he plays his cricket, his attitude on the field, his incessant proclivity towards abuse, his win-at-all-costs mentality. At the same time I am keenly aware of his prodigious talent. Many a U-19 cricketer has shone at the level before fading away into obscure Ranji oblivion- Mithun Manhas, RS Ricky, Reetinder Singh Sodhi, Amol Mazumdar- the list is endless. Kohli belongs to the rare breed of those U-19 players who have seamlessly transitioned to the senior squad almost immediately. Not only did he merely make the senior squad, at the age of 23, he is already a World Cup champion having played a crucial role in India’s victory. Most notably in the final, with India tottering at 31-2 and ghastly memories of the semi-final against Sri Lanka at the Eden Gardens in 1996 surreptitiously creeping back, Kohli played a mature innings of 35 steadying the Indian ship, giving us all belief that the target could yet be achieved. Kohli’s natural talent combined with his equally natural vituperations makes him a fascinating character, one, who for me, best captures the contradictions at the heart of new and emerging India, which have played out in our national politics, like never before, in 2011.

A strong sense of self-belief is Kohli’s finest attribute. Whether in a World Cup final or in seaming conditions in England, Kohli’s virat self belief, justifiably or otherwise, never lets up. It is the same self-belief that has seen a more activist, vociferous and determined youth take to the streets in protest against corrupt politicians, eve-teasing murderers, honour killers or atrocities by the Indian army in Kashmir. A sense of injustice and wrong has for long prevailed amongst Indian youth. However in the last year, this sense of injustice has been coupled with the unprecedented gumption, to go out there, act on one’s beliefs and believe that the result is possible. New India has thus reaffirmed Swami Vivekananda’s clarion call to the youth of India to “Arise, awake and stop not, until the goal is reached.” Anna Hazare’s campaign, dismissed inexplicably by armchair intellectuals, as a “middle-class facebook activism”, for all its faults was the beneficiary of such an attitude amongst India’s youth who came out in droves to support it. And though a “strong and effective Lokpal” could not be passed this session, (and just as well) it forced Parliament to discuss the issue openly, thereby making our elected representatives accountable like never before.

Unfortunately, the flip side of this self-belief is an uncritical and almost irrebuttable belief of one’s rightness and the consequent wrongness of others. In a seemingly inconsequential incident on Day 3 of the Boxing Day Test, Kohli fielding in the deep unnecessarily attempted an ambitious and meaningless direct hit. No one was at the stumps and Ravichandran Ashwin backing up was nowhere close to preventing the overthrow. Of course, that made little difference to Kohli, who convinced he was not in the wrong, spewed some choice expletives in Ashwin’s direction. Similarly, when he was adjudged LbW for a golden duck in the second innings, he stood around and glared at the umpire as if he had just announced a call for genocide and Kohli was about to become its first victim. Needless to say, he couldn’t be caught more plumb in front.

Now conviction in one’s view is no bad thing but conviction which becomes dogmatic to not countenance criticism or allow for introspection is deeply problematic. Emerging India suffers largely from a similar malaise. The classic example of this is a foundational plinth on which emerging India is built: The 24*7 news media. In a year in which the role of the media has been scrutinised like never before, their coverage of the recent Lokpal debate in Parliament, was testimony to how uncritical and unquestioning the fourth pillar of our democracy has become. All channels were quick to claim that what transpired in Parliament was the “murder of democracy”; it was “murder at midnight” and a “travesty of representative government.” They also uniformly claimed credit for being “the first” to predict that such an “orchestrated chaos” would ensue. What was so murderous about what happened in Parliament? Is the government not entitled to defer the passage of a bill to the next session if a better debate could be facilitated? And can the discretion of the Vice-President of India so blithely be questioned by a few news anchors, without proof or special knowledge? Now it well may be that the chaos was orchestrated by the government, but surely the entire sequence of events was more complex than a banal headline. To claim, without evidence that can be brought to bear publicly, is journalism of the worst kind; of a kind that revels in the power of shaping public opinion without having to reflect even momentarily about the gossip, hearsay and rumours which shape such opinions.

Kohli undoubtedly has the spunk to take on the world and beat it. Cricket isn’t just a game, it’s a battle which has to be won. Much like India in 2011, which dared to take on the world on the nuclear liability bill, adopted an increasingly aggressive stance regarding permanent membership of the UN Security Council, became an independent voice in climate change negotiations, Kohli stridently blazes his willow away to glory, irrespective of the nationality of the opposition. No longer do we cower in front of sledge-happy Aussie quicks, super-fast South African ones or Pakistanis keen for restoring their national pride on the cricket ground- we take them on and quite often win.

But yet for some reason, I, despite my obvious delight in seeing India win in cricket and prosper everywhere, don’t feel happy in the same way. I still pine for elements of the older India; an India of Javagal Srinath or Anil Kumble, where despite losing more often than winning, there was an innocence to the way we played our cricket and led our lives. When winning and results didn’t matter very much but doing the right thing did. When hundred hundreds was a wonderful statistic to achieve and not a daily national obsession, when the Beatles sat easily with Bharatanatyam and Treasure Island, one of Calcutta’s first malls with New Market, one of its oldest, when life was altogether more simple and our identity more entrenched.

In no way at all am I advocating a return to an older, less economically prosperous, but more socially secure India. Not only is it not possible, but it also undesirable. What I would like to see is a coming together of Kohli’s India and Srinath’s India; where winning matters, but winning by being playing the game in the spirit of the game matters more, where being important in world politics matters, but having an independent mind matters more, where organising a protest movement matters, but ensuring that the atmosphere is not so vitiated that no debate and fruitful negotiation is possible matters more. And where we continue to remember that while we must make every effort to become a superpower in the 21^st century, our current and most pressing concern must be to ensure that every child in the country from the day she is born, can get three square meals a day. That, I hope, is what we can go some way towards achieving in 2012.

A very happy and prosperous new year to everyone!

Football

Best goals: At the end of the day, regardless of the extent of our connoisseurship, it’s the goals that we remember most, so I’ll start there.[2] Dejan Stankovic’s goal in Inter Milan’s Champions League quarterfinal first leg against Schalke was my favourite goal of the year. I have a thing for volleys and long-rangers, and Stankovic’s goal fits both of those categories. It was barely 20 seconds into the game when Esteban Cambiasso floated a ball behind the Schalke defense, which their goalkeeper Manuel Neuer came out bravely to sweep up, launching a header towards the halfway line. Stankovic, hanging about in the center circle, spontaneously volleyed the ball back, remarkably sending the ball over the out of position Neuer, and into the empty goal. It was an extraordinary goal, one that had the quality of bringing a neutral observer to his feet.

Staying with volleys, Robin van Persie’s recent pearler against Everton has to surely be up there with the best goals of the year. Just as Alex Song’s ball over the defense was dropping in front of him, van Persie conjured up a strike of astounding technical purity. He hit it so sweetly that I can still hear the unblemished sound of boot on ball.

It would be injudicious of me not to mention Wayne Rooney’s winner in the Manchester Derby in January here. Unlike Stankovic’s and van Persie’s efforts, I have watched this goal over and over again. The beauty of the strike apart, the goal had a sense of occasion to it, making it all the more special.

Berbarotica: Before it gets too late, I want to get my mention of Dimitar Berbatov away. In spite of being the top scorer in the 2010-11 season, Berbatov has found himself dropped from the Manchester United starting line-up – and often even from the squad – with Sir Alex Ferguson preferring to go with either Javier Hernandez or Danny Welbeck as Rooney’s strike partner. Against Fulham, earlier this month, though, Berbatov came on to score a sublime goal. It wasn’t against the toughest of opponents nor did it have a sense of occasion to it, considering it was the final goal in a 5-0 rout, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Berbatov let Antonio Valencia’s low cross slide past him, deceived a lunging Fulham defender, and then produced a cheeky backheel to find the back of the net. It was deft, languid, imperious and impudent all at once; it was typical Berbatov.

Silkiest skill: Had I seen this goal live, it may well have been my favourite of the year; it comes close nonetheless. Neymar has attracted several comparisons to Lionel Messi already, and this goal against Flamengo provides a microcosm of his unique talents. There were about 15 tricks that he performed in under 20 seconds – first there were a brace of ingenious turns on the left wing, then a one-two to get himself to the edge of the box, followed by an outrageous bit of skill that left the centre backs flummoxed and finally a finish to match the move.

Most elegant player: David Silva has been the most fun player to watch this year. He doesn’t slalom his way past opponents like Messi; he doesn’t have the pace and power that Cristiano Ronaldo possesses; nor does he dictate the tempo of a game in the manner of a Xavi or an Iniesta, but he is certainly the most elegant player going around. Silva doesn’t run past opponents, he glides away from them with a balletic grace. Everything he does on the pitch seems to have a rare beauty to it. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that he is left footed.

Best game: My favourite game of the year was Arsenal’s 5-3 defeat of Chelsea at Stamford Bridge in October. Minutes to go, Arsenal have worked their balls off to come back into the game and go 4-3 up – aided no doubt by some abject defending – and just when you think they are going to play sensibly, and defend the lead, they bomb forward, scoring a fifth. It was a game full of thrills and spills, fantastic moves and schoolboy defending, but it was such fun! [I can’t find a video of the game, so you’ll have to make do with reading Scott Murray’s MBM in the Guardian]

Oh Scholesy! I’ve missed Paul Scholes, and unimaginably so. I miss the long-range blasts; the beautiful, precise diagonal balls; the little turns to get away from prying tacklers in the middle of the pitch; the change of pace that allowed him the time and space to dictate play; the late bursts into the penalty box; the cunning short passes that helped Manchester United retain possession; heck I’ve even missed those dirty tackles. [You can read my tribute to Scholes, who retired in May, here]

*****

Cricket

Favourite Moment: India’s World Cup victory seems such a long time ago after the humiliation in the test series in England and the recent loss at the MCG. But M.S. Dhoni’s six to seal the win against Sri Lanka in the final at the Wankhede, will remain etched in memory forever. I do, however, want to forget Ravi Shastri’s robotic, headache-inducing commentary that accompanied the moment.

Best ball: James Anderson was terrific during India’s tour of England this past summer, and his delivery to snare V.V.S. Laxman in the second innings of the second test at Trent Bridge, Nottingham was, perhaps, the ball of the year. It seemed to move both ways, first swinging into Laxman, before moving, ever so slightly off the pitch, away from the outside edge to hit the top of off-stump. Geoff Boycott reckoned that it was a simple case of Laxman missing the ball: “He played down Bakerloo and it went down Piccadilly,” he said, but Anderson’s skill certainly can’t be discounted.

Best innings: Alastair Cook made oodles of runs this year and Rahul Dravid batted with obstinacy and courage in the series in England, but neither produced an innings of particularly captivating worth. Pakistan had a terrific year, with Misbah Ul-Haq, Younis Khan and Taufeeq Umar, all making lots of runs, but I haven’t watched enough of them to offer a valuable comment. So the honour will have to go to one of Mahela Jayawardene or Ian Bell, the former for his innings of sparkling elegance in the World Cup Final, and the latter for his splendid late-cut riddled century against India at Trent Bridge. I’ll let you take your pick. I enjoyed both these knocks immensely.

Sehwagology: Virender Sehwag transcended a few boundaries in his brutal 219 from 149 balls at Indore against the West Indies. I didn’t name it in the best innings category for a regulation ODI has, in my opinion at any rate, lost significance. Nonetheless, it was a spectacular effort that at many levels defied description and served as a reminder of not only Sehwag’s genius but also of his contribution to the game. He is, at once, a revolutionary and a visionary.

Best contest: Dale Steyn’s two spells to start the first two sessions on day 3 of the Cape Town test between South Africa and India was as nifty a spell of swing bowling that one could have hoped to see. That Sachin Tendulkar faced 48 of the 66 balls bowled in those spells made it that much more of a spectacle. It was marvelous; test cricket at its very best. Second ball of the first over, Steyn beat Tendulkar with a gorgeous away singer that moved at tremendous pace. Three balls later, another outswinger, only this time, Tendulkar got to the pitch of it and drove it gloriously through extra-cover for a boundary. After a luckless first spell, Steyn came back after lunch to snare Pujara LBW with a gem that straightened upon pitching on leg. In his next over, he had Dhoni caught at third slip with another trademark outswinger. It was a glorious, beautiful day of test cricket, an innings in which Steyn picked up five wickets and Tendulkar made 146.

******

Tennis

Best match: It was THAT match in which Novak Djokovic produced THAT shot. US Open semifinals, the Serb goes down two sets to love against Federer, then wins sets three and four only to trail 5-3, 40-15 in the decider. Everyone who’s watching it thinks, and knows even, that it’s over. Federer places his first serve wide of Djokovic’s forehand, a little undercooked, and boom, the return is past the Swiss even before he’s seen it. It was all Djokovic from there on. To me, the forehand on match point was a moment of pure inspiration. After the match, Federer called it a lucky stroke, he even seemed to question Djokovic’s moral right to go for that shot. Well, there is no arguing that Djokovic took an all or nothing approach, but what else could one expect?

Best point: Novak Djokovic has produced several remarkable points this year, many of them winners from inconceivable angles, when his whole body was seemingly stretched like rubber. But this honour belongs to Rafael Nadal. In the final of the Madrid Masters against Djokovic, after a rally of astounding interplay, Nadal somehow found himself at the net and produced a touch volley, which in turn brought Djokovic forward. The Serb, with his tremendous foot speed, got there with time to spare, and conjured a superb lob, that Nadal first tried to smash on his backhand side, on the turn, only to find it to be beyond his reach. But not one to give up, he chased after it, and manufactured a tweener – a between the legs effort. Only, this was no ordinary tweener. This wasn’t one of those, let-me-just-try-and-stay-in-the-point efforts. It was a tweener-lob – adroit, imaginative, and simply exquisite.

Quote of the year: “Umpires are like emotional girlfriends — once they make up their minds, there’s no point in arguing”: The incomparable Janko Tipsarevic

Comeback player: Almost bizarrely, in a year in which he didn’t win a Grand Slam for the first time since 2002, Roger Federer has to be considered as the comeback player of the year. Since losing to Djokovic in the US Open semifinals, he went 17-0, winning titles in Basel, Paris and London, regained some of the lost aura and once again looked an imperious, graceful force. Federer’s run of form at the end of the year has set up 2012 beautifully.

Player to watch in 2012: Andy Murray is still the best of the rest as far as the rankings are concerned, but the one who came closest to denting the oligarchy at the top in 2011 was Jo Wilfried Tsonga. The big Frenchman was often imposing and fantastic, particularly in his come-from-behind win in the Wimbledon quarterfinals against Federer. And crucially, unlike Murray, he seems to believe that he is capable of beating the top three at the highest of stages.

Most disappointing player: Richard Gasquet – as has been the case for each of the last five or six years. Anyone who can stroke a backhand as regally as he does has no right to be losing as many matches as he does.

Best parliamentarian: Not sure this category should be called “best” parliamentarian, for I have no clue what work Marat Safin – who was elected to the new Duma after elections in early December – actually does. But I’d imagine – or I’d like to believe, at any rate – that anything Safin does, he does it with panache. And for what it’s worth, Sampras had this to say about Safin’s victory: “Marat is very intelligent, articulate and well-spoken so I think it’s great that he’s getting involved in government in his homeland. In 20 years, Marat will be the President of Russia! Trust me, this guy is going to go a long way.”

[1] I’ve watched a whole lot of sport this year, like most other years, but I’m restricting this piece to football, cricket and tennis, the holy trinity as far as I’m concerned.

[2] It’s likely I have failed to mention a number of quality goals in this post. That would either be because I didn’t find them worthy enough or that I simply don’t remember them (I wanted to list out moments which I can conjure from memory as opposed to watching a YouTube compilation of best goals in 2011 and picking my favourite).