Ram Guha’s ‘A Corner of a Foreign Field’ and, more recently, Rajdeep Sardesai’s ‘Democracy’s XI’ have used cricket as a barometer of India’s democratic aspirations and its deep-rooted malaises. This isn’t unique to South Asia either. Smith, Warner and Bancroft had to face public humiliation and were subject to higher ethical benchmarks than any politician would ever have to. Sport, despite its trivial pursuits such as putting a ball into a net or hitting it out of a stadium, is often expected to showcase the best, the noblest qualities of human society. When India as a nation grappled with the issue of socially approved untouchability practices, it found its reflection in its cricket teams, with the tragically heroic stories of the Palwankar brothers during the days of the Bombay Pentangular. When India was a society that treated royalty with importance, its cricket teams were often led by a Maharajah/Nawab, regardless of his cricketing abilities. Cut to the 90s, and we have the oft-used cliche of Tendulkar’s free-spirited batting symbolising India’s economic liberalisation. During the 90s India’s cricket team was led by a Muslim captain, a status that is next to that of only the PM. When I was l was younger and far less cynical, it did make me proud of the romantic idea of Indian cricket’s most glamorous position held by a religious minority. All this, while the pot of religious conflict post-Babri was simmering, for probably the first time since partition. When I look at my disillusionment with the sport post-match-fixing, it wasn’t only because I felt cheated by a sport I love, but it was also by a player who I considered a symbol of secular-India. Cricket and cricketers, fairly or unfairly, were again judged by benchmarks much higher than other walks of society.
In our attempt at drawing parallels (maybe artificial) between Indian cricket and our society at large, we often focus only on the national side and ignore the story of the BCCI. All through the 90s, while India’s cricket team was famous yet unsuccessful, the BCCI, for the first time in the sport’s history led the shift in cricket’s power centres from England & Australia to Asia. While it seems eons ago, it was only in 1996 when a joint Indo-Pak side travelled to SL as a mark of solidarity when Australia pulled out during the World Cup. Under Dalmiya (ICC president), the BCCI used its new-found muscle to get Bangladesh the test status (maybe undeservedly at that point). The BCCI that saw itself in a leadership role for not just Indian cricket but the sport in the region at large. Remember, India was also the only side to do high-profiles tours to Pakistan in 2004/06. While powerful, the BCCI back then wasn’t the governing body of today, an organisation that uses its muscle not to be more inclusive but to manipulate Bangladesh to exclude Pakistani players from an Asia XI. So, what changed, and what does it tell us about India (and maybe even South Asia) and its tolerance for hegemonic institutions. While the BCCI was growing, from being more inclusive to the current day bully, one thing remained constant — its cricketers continued to stay silent. When was the last time that India’s cricketers spoke against the governing body? Its no coincidence that Kris Srikanth, the last Indian captain to take a stand on anything against the BCCI, also lost his captaincy very soon. For all the talk of democracy, curiously, Indian cricketers over the last two decades have never spoken out on even issues that concern the sport. A part of the problem is because the BCCI never allowed an organised players’ association of any kind. The model that the more muscular versions of the BCCI followed was one of an Indian captain who was in sync with the governing body on all issues. The captain, in Indian cricket, is the BCCI president’s man. Those who speak up grow out of favour very quickly, not just with the captain but the umbrella body as well. In our recent podcast with Ahmer Naqvi, he points out the fact that the hegemonic model was first successfully employed by the BCCI, before getting an electoral endorsement during the general elections of 2014 and more so, 2019. The more macho BCCI of post-2010 formulated the idea of ‘The Big 3’, a classic hierarchical structure that finds resonates with Indian society. The idea that a few big nations deserve a larger share of the pie while being a practical reality due to basic economics should never find space in the cliched world of a sport which aspires to represent fairness and equality. In many ways, the Modi-Shah model in Indian politics, with a distinction between first- and second-class citizens was successfully employed by the BCCI, often at the cost of the global aspirations of the sport. Today, we see the same model being employed by the national team, with a concentration of power that lies with the captain, and a coach who sings the same tunes as the leader. The current crop of cricketers, just like our politicians, are averse to any criticism and often resort to labels. Even fans who disagree are asked to relocate to other countries. A BCCI that gags its commentators from being too lavish in praise of opposition sides, based on tweets proposed by an influential celebrity and endorsed by its captain — sounds familiar? The sport of cricket is now a canvas ready to be used for painting the jingoistic colours of our society.
This hegemony has also given rise to the phenomenon of a deafeningly silent cricket fraternity — a community that is insecure of itself, and afraid of the authority. While, as a society, we grapple with challenges that threaten to redefine the very idea of our nation, I feel let down by a generation of cricketers I used to treat as the epitome of ethics and virtuosity. The Fab Four (or five or six), just like their contemporaries from Bollywood choose to look away and remain silent at a time their voices are as valuable as them playing out an opening spell on an overcast Headingley morning. It might be harsh and maybe unfair to expect them to speak up. Yet, it does go a fair bit to demolish the God-like, infallible mental imagery that the childhood mind of mine had painted of them. As a fan of the game, when I find myself identifying less with the current lot, the reason is not cricketing skills alone. It’s a reflection of the stage of life when you follow a sporting team, and thus the expectations of your heroes being vastly different. For me, the Fab 4 era cricketers were a symbol of decency, righteousness and the good virtues of the game, mainly due to a young fan being less cynical of the world. All that the current age of polarization does is set the expectations correct. Cricketers, and the sport, will cease to mean anything more than the game.
Podcast Link:
https://anchor.fm/thepccipod/episodes/A-corner-of-a-not-so-foreign-field-e9rkre
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