Back to basics

Cricinfo

July 25, 2001

The Ranji Trophy has undergone numerous changes since its birth way back in 1934, when it was a knockout tournament all the way with the champion of each zone taking on the other zone winners. There were only 15 teams in the fray in the first season. In the South Zone for instance, there were only three teams, Madras, Hyderabad and Mysore. Teams were added year after year and now we have 27 teams in the competition. The league-cum-knockout format was introduced in 1957-1958 and it continues to this day, except for the brief superleague interlude.

Until 1970-1971, only one team from each zone qualified for the knockout phase. During my playing days, two teams did, and this still ensured a reasonable level of competitiveness, because each zone had at least two good teams. We still faced some very easy opposition in our own zones, though the pursuit of bonus points made for some exciting cricket against the weaker teams. We had to be at our best, however, against the stronger teams to have any chance of appearing on the national scene. For individual players too, this was important, as there was no other way we could catch the selectors' eyes.

I believe the championship was really devalued when the three-team formula was introduced. Even in a zone where there are three quality teams, the intensity of the contests gets reduced considerably when a team knows it had done well enough to enter the second phase of the tournament.

For decades now, concerned cricket observers have been calling for some real reform in the structure of domestic cricket, so that India will stand a better chance of doing well on the world stage. There finally seems to be a very serious intention on the part of the BCCI to pay some attention to this problem. We hear talk of a two-tier system being introduced, with promotions and relegations between the two divisions. The idea is intrinsically sound in that it will make for more competitive cricket in both the first and second divisions, as the teams should be evenly matched. However, for the competition to be really meaningful in the higher division, all Test players must take part.

But aren't we creating a class system in Indian cricket, which may deny opportunities to deserving players, because they belong to teams in the second division? And how do we prevent abuses of the system to engineer promotions and relegations? These are questions some senior cricketers raised when I sought their views.

My own view is that every step should be taken to make domestic cricket more competitive and raise standards. A two-tier system may be an inevitable outcome of such an attempt, but more important is the need to prepare sporting wickets all over India and inculcate proper cricket values in our youngsters. Unless greater attention is paid by our coaches to basics like good running between the wickets, improving fitness and fielding levels, batting technique that can stand up to international conditions, and positive thinking in the team's cause, our domestic cricket is unlikely to throw up world class players.

If you can't get them, beam them!

Sunday Express

January 27 2006

Curse, crib, chatter, chuck, claim for everything — that seems to be the order of the day in international cricket. Cricket, that game of infinite complexity, heroism and high drama, power, precision and artistry can slide into ugly gamesmanship, downright cheating and abysmal behaviour if the protagonists forget the unwritten tenets of the game. When misplaced machismo becomes more important than achieving excellence on the field, it degenerates into a crude circus. The Australians, for instance, set new records in aggressive appealing in their recent Test series against South Africa. The South Africans, needless to say, retaliated in kind.

It was hardly a couple of years ago that Australia made a conscious effort, under new captain Ricky Ponting, to improve their image. The Ashes defeat suffered at the hands of a rejuvenated England changed all that pretty rapidly, even if the series itself was fought in the best of spirits — until Ponting stormed off after being brilliantly run out by a substitute fielder. He made a hue and cry about England seeking undue advantage by resting tired bowlers and replacing them with athletic substitute fielders. Former Australia captain Bobby Simpson describes his compatriots' on-field behaviour thus: ‘‘It’s exactly how toddlers behave in an effort to tide over their shortcomings.’’

There are more recent examples closer to home. In the Lahore Test, Pakistani pace bowler Rana Naved sent down three bouncers in a row, and Virender Sehwag followed each like a mesmerised victim of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Third time round, wicketkeeper Kamran Akmal went up in celebration, the bowler died a mini war-dance, and the rest of the Pakistani fielders joined in the frenzied celebrations.

At that time, a Rip van Winkle who slept through the first four days of the Lahore Test might be forgiven for imagining that Sehwag had made next to nothing or that India was off to a poor start. But a look at the scoreboard would have had him rubbing his eyes in disbelief. It read: India 410 for 1, Sehwag out for 254, Rahul Dravid 128 not out. This is in reply to an imposing total of 679 for 7 declared, no doubt, but the Pakistani bowlers had been put to the sword, subjugated in a manner unknown to them, not even when Sehwag made 309 on the last Indian tour of Pakistan.

Sehwag toyed with Pakistani pace as though he were playing tennis-ball cricket in a gali back in his hometown Najafgarh. The Rawalpindi Express hardly posed any danger to him, while Mohammad Sami and Rana Naved were made to look rather silly ball after ball, as three boundaries per over became a constant refrain through his rollicking innings. Sami and Akhtar looked ludicrous when they tried to unsettle Dravid and Sehwag with some crude aggro, the Indian skipper choosing to ignore their taunts with disdain and his partner imperiously waving away the offending pacemen.

And what of the hype that preceded the ongoing series? ‘‘Beware of Shoaib’’, screamed the headlines. ‘‘He has this deadly new slower one that rang the death knell for England’s Ashes-conquering batsmen.’’ ‘‘Pakistan are favourites at this time of the year,’’ warned the pundits. ‘‘The ball will dart around and the wickets will be fast and bouncy.’’ Danish Kaneria was a potent new threat, according to others, and he would prove a handful for the Indians. Commentator after commentator pontificated that genuine pace could work wonders where seam and swing might struggle. ‘‘Shoaib’s explosive pace will be the difference between the two teams,’’ they confidently predicted.

And what happened? Shoaib, unfortunately, has at the time of writing taken exactly one wicket in the series, at a cost of nearly 200 runs. The wickets have been sleeping beauties, and the Indian batsmen have made merry, undaunted by the hype surrounding Shoaib and Co., and the huge totals Pakistan have posted.

Almost the first thing Bob Woolmer did on arrival as Pakistan’s coach a little over a year ago was to take steps to tame Shoaib. Soon he had the spoilt brat transformed into a disciplined soldier who, in a couple of bursts of fast bowling, turned the England-Pakistan series on its head. The ICC’s new ruling on chucking made it easy for Shoaib, whose action is now legally above board, thanks to what Pakistani cricket writer Osman Samiuddin calls an inherent kink in his body, as in the case of Sri Lanka’s Muttiah Muralitharan. Samiuddin, in fact, demands to know why Shabbir Ahmed, another Pakistani quick now banished for a year for the third time by the ICC for chucking, should be penalised for not suffering from such an inherent kink in his body.

Shoaib can offer no such kinky explanation for his tendency to let loose beamers at innocent batsmen. Ask Ian Bell of England, Jacques Kallis of South Africa or Ramesh Powar of India how it feels to have a ball right directed at their heads. The answer can be no different from that of one of Brett Lee’s victims. At least the Australian has apologised every time he has come close to decapitating a batsman. New Zealand coach John Bracewell said, ‘‘It’s very hard to pick Brett Lee’s bouncer. It’s even harder to pick his beamer. It’s the fourth time this season (after Lee nearly guillotined Brendon McCullum) that he has beamed one of our guys, and he’s been apologetic every time he has done it. That’s a lot of apologies.’’

Shoaib has no such qualms. After hitting Bell, thankfully not on the head with a beamer, he went down to the crease and calmly inspected the damage, not showing the slightest remorse. The Pakistanis claimed it was a slower delivery that slipped out of his hand, and the media lapped it up, conveniently forgetting earlier occasions when the ball had ‘‘slipped out’’ of Akhtar’s hand — just as it did out of Waqar Younis’ during the 2003 World Cup, whizzing past Andrew Symonds’ head.

Under the present law, what we used to call chucking is legal — well, it is no longer chucking by the ICC’s definition, as long as the bowler has a congenital or acquired physical defect, or flexes his arm below an ICC-approved angle. Firing head-high full tosses is legitimate too, as long as you can imply to the world that the ball slipped out of your hand.

Of course, it is also perfectly acceptable for you to question a batsman’s parentage, insult his ancestors or girlfriend or wife, run down the wicket and glare at him, curse, point the way to the pavilion — if you can manage to do all that unnoticed by the umpire, TV cameras or the match referee, or if you happen to be Australian, to go by reports from their rivals on the field. To celebrate a dismissal in a manner that would shame a primitive reveller at a human sacrifice seems to be the birthright of every bowler, even if the scoreboard reads 500 for 3. Holding a half-volley and appealing for a catch is perfectly normal; just remember to add a touch of drama by running up to the batsman and waggle your finger at him. Demand that he walk on the strength of your word, as Michael Slater did to Dravid, and follow up that exhibition of arrogance with histrionics directed at the umpire. Make a desperate dive at the boundary line and wait for the third umpire to adjudicate on whether it was a boundary or not, even if you know for sure it is one.

Bad behaviour can be curbed by statute. Better still, selection committees the world over can pick men of character to be captains and role models. Rahul Dravid and Inzamam-ul Haq are examples of nice guys who don’t finish last. They set great personal examples, both in terms of their conduct on and off the field and the consistent excellence of their performance. They are also firm with their men, without crushing individuality. Michael Vaughan is another excellent man manager who has inspired his team to great eights of performance as well as sportsmanship.

Such traits can be infectious and spread around the cricket world. But the greater menace is the tampering with rules that has sought to change the very nature of the game. If dubious bowling actions are allowed to flourish and dangerous offences such as the bowling of head-high full tosses at velocities approaching 150 kph are overlooked, cricket will undergo a transformation in its fundamental nature. It will no longer be the spectator sport that generations of lovers of the game have enjoyed watching. It will became a gladiatorial contest, bereft of finesse and beauty. It just won’t be cricket any more.

The one bright spot in the ongoing chucking controversy is that bowlers with suspect actions, who have been handed reprieves under the new ICC rule, seem to be becoming less and less successful as batsmen learn to cope better with their bowling or as age catches up with the bowlers. Captains around the world tend to support such bowlers as long as they tend to win matches with them, but not a moment longer.

You don’t have to be a statistical expert, then, to come to the conclusion that the bowlers under the microscope over the last few seasons are no longer the match-winners they used to be. Maybe this is the time for all parties concerned to come together to review the whole situation without nationalistic fervour clouding the issue and come up with a definition of throwing that makes sense.

The present law does not. Beamers, intentional or otherwise, have no place in the game. Bowlers should be mercilessly outlawed if they indulge in that vile practice. And as for bad behaviour on the field, it will die a natural death if the cricket-lovers of a country come down heavily on their heroes, as Australian spectators have in the recent past. They have made their protest vocal and strong, and the administration is finally sitting up and taking notice.