I need to confess clearly at the beginning. I am an all-purpose sports fan. I love Manchester United. I cry and sulk when they lose their aura of invincibility and start losing to lesser ranked teams. I follow Rafael Nadal like a fervent devotee and revel in his fantastic and often gut-wrenching triumphs over a Federer or a Djokovic. I adore Leo Messi and proudly wear the Blue Argentina jersey during the FIFA World Cup and shout myself silly in noisy pub match screenings at Khan Market.
But when it comes to cricket, the sports fan in me undergoes a complete makeover. Suddenly I am no longer a simple fan – I am a serious supporter, armchair analyst, resident expert and almost a player myself. I have strong notions of what is good and bad for world cricket. I know that this sport is the lifeblood of every Indian and perhaps the only place where I can come close to understanding what a German feels on the night of a FIFA World Cup victory or a Spaniard feels when Nadal takes his eighth French Open title. A feeling of invincibility and oneness with a true champion – one who has bested the best of the world and is adjudged the top dog! And to take it to the other extreme, defeat leaves me drained and shattered – all hope dives fast behind the grey wall of darkness and despair. But let me not get lyrical here. That is not the intention.
Is the carnival dying?
Every four years since 1975, the International Cricket Council, in all its goodness and smart marketing nous, pushes out this enormous carnival – the ICC ODI Cricket World Cup. Over a period of 45-and-odd days, nine Test playing nations and a few Associate Members slug it out in 50 or so ODI matches for the Tag of World Champion. Venues change along with teams, stars as well as the type of wickets.
Indian limited overs cricket – they say – was born from the 1983 triumph and given a shot of immortality in 2011. But the majestic aura has started losing its sheen. And to confuse your average cricket mind, new formats like Twenty20 cricket have now emerged, necessitating their own World Championship – notably the ICC WORLD T20. The Test Matches of yore – those classical battles of batting artistry against brilliant bowling – now totter along like fading Hollywood stars at a post-Oscar party as the media and public fall over themselves over new-age T20 behemoths.
Somewhere in the middle, the venerable One Day Match struggles for survival and skulks around looking for acceptance. Trying to reinvent its lost glory as more and more people opt for the shorter slam bang formats which pack in all the ingredients of a potboiler in far less time. Television viewership has gone soft as a result and the legends who made our world look bright and rosy as India won match after match have now retired leaving the entire ODI format looking forlorn and bereft of pizzazz.
The game has also seen some tough moments recently, which does not help matters. There have been bitter public disputes within the governing body, brutal court battles dragging the sport down to new depths and whispers of match-fixing. There are dark mutterings about too much cricket, viewer fatigue and new age players for whom the difference between patriotism and the lure of big money is getting blurred with every passing day.
Bitter run-up, but...
To add insult to injury, Team India is coming out of a bitter three-month roasting in Australia where, as I write this, the only victory has been a warm up ODI match against Afghanistan who actually put up a decent fight. Injuries and tiredness are being talked about more than the prospect of winning as the World Champions look to defend a fast crumbling edifice. So all is lost – you would say. Get on with it then.
But then the game is much more than all this. All it will take is a special moment or two – a spectacular catch, a stupendous spell of bowling, an inspiring bit of fielding, a swashbuckling knock out of nowhere – and the magic will return, with a sense of inevitability. Nothing rejuvenates us like a fight against the odds, a David versus Goliath moment, that exhilarating feeling of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat which somehow turbocharges a nation’s imagination. Always and without fail.
It could be a Rohit Sharma fifty, a Shikhar Dhawan century, an Ashwin fifer or a couple of run outs from a Rahane or a Jadeja. It could be a Captain Cool innings from Dhoni or a little bit of swing masterclass from Binny. Whatever it is, the smile will be back on the office goer’s face, the spring will be back in the doodhwalla’s step, the pan shop owner will give his old I-told-you-so look and old granddads in the park will again remember how Naidu and Mushtaq Ali would have been so good in this day and age. All issues will be forgotten temporarily – as eleven pedestals emerge again, cleaned and dusted.
That’s what this Cup means to this nation. Unfortunately, it is still the only sport where every Indian truly experiences that world class feeling. It is actually bigger than the team, the federation and probably bigger than the sport itself. With due respect to kabaddi and football and badminton, Sachin holding the trophy on the shoulders of his teammates after the 2011 victory will probably outrank every other top sporting memory.
I still think I am an all-purpose sports fan. But starting Saturday, I will carefully put away my Wayne Rooney shirt for the next 45 days and slip into my old and slightly frayed Team India shirt. And hope to hell we win again. Not on the basis of form or logic. Not for Dhoni or for Shami. But for the entire nation. The Cup does that to you. Every four years.
Rathindra Basu lives, breathes, sleeps sports and is forever waiting for the next Indian sporting triumph. Since this usually takes much time and infinite patience he listens to music, reads voraciously and eats almost anything that moves!
But when it comes to cricket, the sports fan in me undergoes a complete makeover. Suddenly I am no longer a simple fan – I am a serious supporter, armchair analyst, resident expert and almost a player myself. I have strong notions of what is good and bad for world cricket. I know that this sport is the lifeblood of every Indian and perhaps the only place where I can come close to understanding what a German feels on the night of a FIFA World Cup victory or a Spaniard feels when Nadal takes his eighth French Open title. A feeling of invincibility and oneness with a true champion – one who has bested the best of the world and is adjudged the top dog! And to take it to the other extreme, defeat leaves me drained and shattered – all hope dives fast behind the grey wall of darkness and despair. But let me not get lyrical here. That is not the intention.
Is the carnival dying?
Every four years since 1975, the International Cricket Council, in all its goodness and smart marketing nous, pushes out this enormous carnival – the ICC ODI Cricket World Cup. Over a period of 45-and-odd days, nine Test playing nations and a few Associate Members slug it out in 50 or so ODI matches for the Tag of World Champion. Venues change along with teams, stars as well as the type of wickets.
Indian limited overs cricket – they say – was born from the 1983 triumph and given a shot of immortality in 2011. But the majestic aura has started losing its sheen. And to confuse your average cricket mind, new formats like Twenty20 cricket have now emerged, necessitating their own World Championship – notably the ICC WORLD T20. The Test Matches of yore – those classical battles of batting artistry against brilliant bowling – now totter along like fading Hollywood stars at a post-Oscar party as the media and public fall over themselves over new-age T20 behemoths.
Somewhere in the middle, the venerable One Day Match struggles for survival and skulks around looking for acceptance. Trying to reinvent its lost glory as more and more people opt for the shorter slam bang formats which pack in all the ingredients of a potboiler in far less time. Television viewership has gone soft as a result and the legends who made our world look bright and rosy as India won match after match have now retired leaving the entire ODI format looking forlorn and bereft of pizzazz.
The game has also seen some tough moments recently, which does not help matters. There have been bitter public disputes within the governing body, brutal court battles dragging the sport down to new depths and whispers of match-fixing. There are dark mutterings about too much cricket, viewer fatigue and new age players for whom the difference between patriotism and the lure of big money is getting blurred with every passing day.
Bitter run-up, but...
To add insult to injury, Team India is coming out of a bitter three-month roasting in Australia where, as I write this, the only victory has been a warm up ODI match against Afghanistan who actually put up a decent fight. Injuries and tiredness are being talked about more than the prospect of winning as the World Champions look to defend a fast crumbling edifice. So all is lost – you would say. Get on with it then.
But then the game is much more than all this. All it will take is a special moment or two – a spectacular catch, a stupendous spell of bowling, an inspiring bit of fielding, a swashbuckling knock out of nowhere – and the magic will return, with a sense of inevitability. Nothing rejuvenates us like a fight against the odds, a David versus Goliath moment, that exhilarating feeling of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat which somehow turbocharges a nation’s imagination. Always and without fail.
It could be a Rohit Sharma fifty, a Shikhar Dhawan century, an Ashwin fifer or a couple of run outs from a Rahane or a Jadeja. It could be a Captain Cool innings from Dhoni or a little bit of swing masterclass from Binny. Whatever it is, the smile will be back on the office goer’s face, the spring will be back in the doodhwalla’s step, the pan shop owner will give his old I-told-you-so look and old granddads in the park will again remember how Naidu and Mushtaq Ali would have been so good in this day and age. All issues will be forgotten temporarily – as eleven pedestals emerge again, cleaned and dusted.
That’s what this Cup means to this nation. Unfortunately, it is still the only sport where every Indian truly experiences that world class feeling. It is actually bigger than the team, the federation and probably bigger than the sport itself. With due respect to kabaddi and football and badminton, Sachin holding the trophy on the shoulders of his teammates after the 2011 victory will probably outrank every other top sporting memory.
I still think I am an all-purpose sports fan. But starting Saturday, I will carefully put away my Wayne Rooney shirt for the next 45 days and slip into my old and slightly frayed Team India shirt. And hope to hell we win again. Not on the basis of form or logic. Not for Dhoni or for Shami. But for the entire nation. The Cup does that to you. Every four years.
Rathindra Basu lives, breathes, sleeps sports and is forever waiting for the next Indian sporting triumph. Since this usually takes much time and infinite patience he listens to music, reads voraciously and eats almost anything that moves!
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