Of course I grew up on cricket. Of course I spent hours staring at the TV screen while my grandfather loudly dismissed match strategy, and my grandmother pleaded to allow some room for thought. Of course I cowered a little every time Dale Steyn would bowl.
I was introduced to sports by my grandfather. He was old world in his approach, and had no trouble in deducing what was a wide, or an offside mere seconds before the commentator would declare it to be so. As a result, a lot of our quality time involved languid sports watching. Who in their right mind would give up on what appeared to be a psychic grandfather?
A major element in this languid way of spending time was test cricket. Some of my fondest memories, and crucial lessons can be traced back to when test cricket was the highest assessment of a player. I learnt quickly that cricket was not a game for the impatient. To survive five days on the field, strategy, perseverance, toil, sportsmanship and a sense of humour were required.
I also learnt to distinguish between two ways one cricketer played – sometimes they would leave a different impression when they were in blue than when they were in white. All of this combined to create the notion that a cricketer was a sportsperson of a different calibre than any other sportsperson; and a cricketer who left an impression when he played in white? Close to god.
Needless to say, when the momentous shift to 20 overs took place, I was disinterested to say the least. I love Shah Rukh Khan with all my heart, but even him singing in my mother tongue could not entice me enough to want to go over to the dark side. Franchise cricket works very well in the age of instant gratification. Social media allegiance is far more comfortable than admitting the shortcomings of your favourite player, and allowing their lapse in judgment to create a new game. The brand value of a cricketer is easier to identify with, than to actually evaluate what they contribute to the field.
I do not know how to not sound snobbish when I say this, but I have trouble keeping up with today’s cricket. The fundamental difference lies in the elements of the game that are enjoyed today, and what was considered commendable in the days of test cricket. I assure you, my elitism is reluctant, but it is nevertheless there. Keeping up with the times (and the Kardashians) is critical, but surely, endurance and method have a place in a capitalist, globalised world, yes?
This is not an attempt to malign the players of today. They are talented, and deserve the spot that they have. But, for me, they will never be complete players unless I see their careers map out in test cricket. Perhaps that makes me old fashioned, but a traditional form of a game must have some precedence over a modified one, no? If you’re having trouble keeping up with me, try thinking of seeing Gareth Bale rise to stardom without ever having witnessed Zinedine Zidane in his full glory. Yes, that’s what I’m trying to get at.
The disappearance of test cricket also signals another disturbing trend – two circles that are inching closer to be a problematic venn diagram quicker than we can think of stopping it. Cricket in India rests anyway on a continuously evolving post-colonial identity. No, I’m not referring to the recent Koffee With Karan fiasco, or Sourav Ganguly’s iconic moment at Lord’s (don’t @ me, that was hands down one of the coolest things I have ever seen on screen). What I’m referring to has slightly more far-reaching consequences.
The bells of nationalism toll louder than usual in today’s India. With a sport that occupies mass attention the way cricket does, it falls on to every person who calls themselves a fan of the same to make sure the jingoism doesn’t make its way to the cricket stands. Every player must be looked at as a player first, and a team must be seen, first and foremost, as a team.
Having said that, I’m looking forward to the ICC World Test Championship this July. It would be naive to expect that it’ll be anything like it used to be when Inshallah, the boys played well. But for once, as a woman watching sports, I’d like to be proved wrong.
Are you also crazy about cricket? Do you have something to say about your favourite form of the sport, or anything else about it? Publish your post, and join #CricketPeCharcha now!