A Talent Gone Waste

As Jesse Ryder and Ross Taylor created an exquisite symphony on the benign track of MacLean Park in Napier and pummelled the Indian bowlers to all corners of the field, it made sense to remember that they have been playing together for a long, long time. Jesse and Ross are both from the Wairarapa region; have been friends since childhood and have been plying their trade together for Napier since their school days. And they had both been earmarked for further glory, right since their teens – though, they have taken diverse routes to the New Zealand senior team – Ross reaching there a couple of years earlier and staying thereafter as the poster boy of Kiwi cricket, while Jesse took a longer route and has been in the news for the wrong reasons more than the good.

Does this schoolboy friendship, dreams of playing for the country together turning into reality, different characters and yet firm friends; ring a bell for us Indians? Indeed, it reminds one of the extraordinary duo of Sachin Tendulkar and Vinod Kambli. And more so, in a very poignant manner for somebody like me, who adored his style; it reminds us of probably, the greatest regret of Indian cricket in the modern era – Vinod Ganpat Kambli.

People, born and bred in the Mecca of Indian cricket – Mumbai – would have heard of Kambli much earlier than the rest of us, in India. A precocious talent since his early teens, he was 17 and Sachin, 16, when they put on a World Record partnership of 664 in a school match in Mumbai. Their fortunes somewhat diverged thereafter – while Sachin went on to make his India debut later in the same year, Kambli trudged on, unrewarded, in the domestic arena till he was called into the senior squad, 3 years after his friend – for the Test series against England in 1993 (he had made his ODI debut earlier – towards the end of 1991). But when he finally did take his place on a Test field, Vinod Ganpat Kambli had the kind of start to his Test career that budding cricketers can only see in their wildest dreams. A half century in his second Test was followed by a double century in the third and this was followed by another double century in his next Test innings. This lifted him among the elite group of Don Bradman and Walter Hammond as the only scorers of two double centuries in successive innings. In fact, his 224 against England came close to upsetting Sunil Gavaskar's then Test record of the highest score by an Indian (236) and involved a marathon 180 run partnership with Sachin Tendulkar for the 3^rd wicket.

Anybody who has watched that innings; either live at the Wankhede or on the television would never forget the supreme arrogance with which Kambli treated bowlers of the likes of Phil DeFreitas and John Emburey. Many would later say that this flamboyance would be his undoing, but when he was on song, Kambli could give even the likes of Sir Viv Richards or Brian Lara, a run for their money. Those twinkle-toed dances down the track to send the balls disappearing above the spinners' heads into the stands were simply breath-taking, as was the chewing gum nonchalance, which he had undoubtedly copied from the Caribbean maestros. Much before Sachin would torment Shane Warne in Sharjah, in the late nineties, Vinod Kambli would bludgeon him for 22 runs in an over in an ODI. In many ways, Vinod Kambli was more West Indies than west Indian J

Unfortunately, just as his rise was meteoric (4 centuries in his first 7 Test Innings), his fall was spectacular and sudden. He had always seemed a little suspect against quality pace and his flash to gully against anything aimed at his ribs proved to be his downfall. The West Indians led by Courtney Walsh had the measure of him in the 1994 – 95 Test series at home. The runs dried up but more devastatingly for Kambli, the swagger deserted him and his confidence was battered. He was never the same again and he would play just one more Test series before being dumped forever from the Test scene before he was even 24 years old. Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly emerged the next year to take away his middle-order position and though a series of comebacks to the ODI side happened right till 2000, Kambli had already been branded a 'had-been'. He made the news for all the wrong reasons – his razzmatazz lifestyle, flings with Bollywood beauties, his own acting aspirations, flashy clothes, missed practice and injuries – and soon, Kambli disappeared from even first class and Ranji games.

If you look back at his statistics, his average of more than 50 in Tests with 4 centuries and close to 3,000 runs in ODIs would be far more favourable than many international cricketers. But if you take a closer look at his first-class statistics – close to 10,000 runs @ an average of 60 with 35 centuries and then look at Sachin Tendulkar and see, how he has carried on for what seems like forever – it is then that you can't help but shake your head at Kambli's career and wonder, what could have been.

Perhaps, that infamous World Cup semi-final vs. Sri Lanka at the Eden Gardens in 1996, when he unashamedly shed tears, summarises his career, the best.

For They were Jolly Good Fellows .........And so say all of us

Two glittering careers in cricket are on the verge of receding into the sunset in the coming week. It is not surprising that this year has already seen many such farewells – after all, World Cup years often see the end of the run for many a veteran stalwart in any game, more so with cricket with two World Cups in the same year. Newer stars emerge and the older lot often finds itself unable to hold its own against the younger challengers. Undoubtedly, some survive to fight another day, some come back for final hurrahs but many succumb to the inevitable. Some, however, are still willing to pack a punch, but find to their dismay, that there is no ring to fight in.

Such is the peculiar scenario in which the burly Inzamam-ul-Haq finds himself in. After 15 years of distinguished service to Pakistani cricket peppered with the most test centuries for his country [25 of them, no joke], close to 12,000 runs in ODIs [3^rd highest ever], an average of more than 50 over 119 test matches and long years of stewardship of Pakistani cricket through some of the most tumultuous phases of its history, Inzy has been run out one last time – his own team mates are wary of him occupying the crease again.

Today, at a sombre press conference in Karachi, Inzy decided to bid farewell to Pakistani cricket after being given the chance to play one last test for Pakistan against South Africa at Lahore next week. Many hailed it as magnanimity on the part of the Pakistani cricket establishment, while some called it timely from Inzamam, a parting shot which would help him leave cricket with some dignity. And therein, lies the cruel irony of it all. For it is sad that somebody like Inzamam had to ask for largesse from his own cricket establishment to be a part of a team, of which he was the lead just a little while ago. Yes, he is touching 38 and he has achieved much in cricket and this valedictory gift allows him a chance to leapfrog Javed Miandad to the top of Pakistani run-getters’ list – but here was a person who had clearly spelt out his desire to play tests for Pakistan a little while longer and if statistics are to be believed, was still performing as well as anybody else. But it seems the new team command in the dressing room does not want him pottering around and Inzy himself pointed that out – “I have played cricket all my life and I felt I had 12-18 months left in me still. But I realised the boys are playing well since the World Cup and felt that the age gap between me and them, in the dressing-room, might have been too much. It could have affected the dressing-room.”

Marvan Atapattu in Sri Lanka has not announced his retirement yet, but his international cricketing career is all but finished as well after he chose to burn bridges with the Sri Lankan selectors by refusing to meet them and consequently, seeing himself dropped from the Sri Lankan team for the Australian tour. A former captain, Atapattu too, was humiliated by the Lankan cricketing establishment after being taken as a tourist for the Caribbean World Cup and being overlooked for all matches immediately thereafter.

At the ages of 36 or 37, admittedly, time was running out for both Inzamam and Atapattu. But the way their sagas wound up is a lesson in life for all – how fickle fortune can be – captains and undisputed leaders not too long ago, they found themselves dumped not too long after – Inzy, after his cubs decided that they no longer needed a pater familias guiding them, Atapattu after realizing that all around him had become used to his absence and were better off with it, post his injury which saw him losing his captaincy and then his place in the team.

In a way it is good, for both Inzy and Atapattu epitomized cricket, the way it was – a lazy and sublime sport for entertainment – not the power-packed, frenzied, big moneyed, winner takes it all avatar, that it has turned into with Twenty 20 and all that.

"There are many things you want to achieve but you can't always. Overall, I can look back and thank God for the career I have had." Thus spake Inzamam at the end of that conference in Karachi and I say the same – Thank God for giving us players like Inzamam and Atapattu to tell us what sublime beauty is all about.

[For my post on Inzy's ODI retirement announcement - check out]

Come Play !!!!

"I can't quite understand what motive one can have to kill a person like Bob Woolmer." crooned former Pakistani great Imran Khan.

A youngster seated next to me, snorted in derision - "Can't quite understand?? Kya bakwaas hai. It is obvious that the betting mafia used the underworld dons to eliminate him because he was about to spill the beans."

Really? Is this what cricket has become? Is the "murder" of a cricket coach during the World Cup the culmination of years of corruption that has seeped in or is it just the tip of the iceberg? And to think that when my father used to watch cricket avidly, teams didn't even have coaches !!

Indeed, so much has changed for the game. Hanif Cadbury, Saleem Langda, Arshad Pappu - are these then, the characters that decide the fate of international matches today instead of the Brian Laras and Glenn McGraths, that we are made to believe? Why, the names remind me of typical Bollywood masala flicks and indeed, that is typical of the drama that is now unfolding in the Caribbean.

"It is time for cricket to exorcize the ghosts of yore once and for all and start afresh" says Alan Border. But who will do that? Is anybody beyond reproach? Pardon me, but all the conspiracy theories have demented my rational thinking - can it be possible that just like in a typical Hindi film flick, when our honest cop finds out that even the Police Commissioner is in cahoots with the bad boys (recollect all those insufferable rehashes), perhaps all and sundry are involved - perhaps, Malcolm Speed is the very Head Honcho who is driving this all??? Not plausible? But then, what is? That gun-toting mafia dons who are planning to blow up railway stations and World Trade Centers are also determining the outcome of cricket matches? Perhaps, this is the example of the growing clout of cricket internationally that the ICC boasts of !!

There was a time when cricket was just a sport. Or at least, most of the times back then. And it was not too long ago - I was a kid then and I am still a young guy. When one would be all pumped up for a cricket match and invite anybody and everybody in the neighborhood for a good day of cricket watching. There were no odd coloured Pepsi colas or batsmen with weird drawings under their eyelids. But it was still enjoyable. Television channels did not disseminate information about the details of the Thai cuisine that the newest kid on the block likes or which brand of toilet paper he uses to wipe his ass in the morning, but then we still liked our players. Cricketers did not endorse everything from multi-grain biscuits to flavoured condoms, but people still bought those products. When 250 was a winning total in 50 overs and the first 10 overs were still about consolidation and not inane power-hitting without any semblance of technique on subcontinental dustbowls - one still had exciting matches. Dickie Bird would not raise crooked fingers at people or spectators were not addled by concepts like Power Plays - fixed and flexible and what not. One did not have telvision channels like Set Max which is all so eager to air the same ads zillions of times, that it often eats up the last delivery of an over or the first of the next one and God save you, if that last ball ended up as a wide or a no-ball. Don't even expect to watch the extra ball which was about to be bowled because by then the idiot box is spewing out some cranky ad where a bunch of ruffians are shouting "Ooh - Aah India" [how obscenely kinky words :)]and cricketers are transmogrified to tigers - the fact that they are soon to become lambs for slaughter only increases the irritation levels.

I had read somewhere that Erapalli Prasanna took a break from cricket to complete his education so that he has some recourse to good jobs once the cricket days were over. The other day, Lala Amarnath was recounting the early days and how cricketers from different parts of Mumbai would catch the train that would take them to their next test match venue, at different local stations depending on where their residence were. Now, with a huge army of support staff that does everything from massaging their legs to pressing their underwears, with stays in the most deluxe of hotels in the most elite of company, with brand endorsement moolah rivalling those of the Bollywood Badshahs, are the cricketers still not satisfied? Perhaps, such is the slavery of Mammon.

So Long and Thanks for Everything, Inzy

It has been the most unusual of times for Pakistani cricket over the last 2 weeks in the Caribbean. Even the cataclysmic loss to Ireland which saw Pakistan tumble out of the World Cup was overshadowed by the sudden and mysterious death of Bob Woolmer which has shrouded the World Cup in a pall of gloom and unleashed the many dormant evils that have plagued the game of cricket in the recent past. Unfortunately, all this has kind of pushed the ODI retirement of Inzamam-ul-Haq to the background. And that is so very unfortunate.

This was sadly, not the way Inzy would have liked to end his long innings on the international platform. Over the last one year, so much has changed for Inzamam. After being hailed as a hero after standing up for Pakistani pride in the Oval test fiasco, Inzamam’s pictures were supposedly stomped on in Lahore and even his hometown Multan and his house attacked, post the disaster at the World Cup. But for one last time, when he trudged back, teary-eyed, to the pavilion after another typically belligerent innings against the hapless Zimbabweans, everything was forgiven. Like a supernova, which flashes brilliantly before its final imminent collapse, all that was good and great about Inzamam shone forth in our eyes and minds, one last time.

That brutal assault which zapped the Kiwis into submission in the 1992 World Cup semis was the first to spring to mind – Inzy, then a cherubic, clean shaven youngster, staked his claim for inclusion into the pantheon of cricket greats with that impudent, audacious knock. Through the years, he mellowed, the clean shaven look transformed into the bearded patriarchal look that the later generation would perhaps, remember him for; religious moorings took shape and press conferences and post match tête-à-têtes started increasingly with “First of all, thanks to Allah….”. Some things however, never changed – the innocence and general amiability that always characterized and in many ways defined him as a gentle giant, the ever bumbling running between the wickets, the safe pair of hands in the slip cordon, the sometimes bemused and absent look on the field when things were not going his way, the elegant bendy flicks off his hips, the hunched cover drives and savage cuts, that almost lazy stride to the middle when he came out to bat – beautifully and quite ironically, epitomizing both an aversion to any kind of hurriedness in life as well as a supreme confidence in his self and utter disdain for any bowlers, the constant gum chewing which would put the most arduously ruminating of cows to shame – we will definitely miss all of these. But perhaps, what Pakistan would miss most of all was the eternal hope that Inzamam provided, every time he walked out to the middle, irrespective of whether he was in form or not. Like his illustrious predecessors Salim Malik and the peerless Javed Miandad, no opponent could ever heave a sigh of relief till Inzamam was at the crease to guide Pakistani fortunes, no matter how choppy the waters seemed.

Of course, he has only bid adieu to ODIs and that leaves a possibility of us seeing some more of Inzy in the Tests. But considering the tumultuous world of Pakistani cricket, you never know.

As the saying goes, the show must go on, but when people like Inzamam take a bow, somehow, it is never feels the same without them.

Hail the Prince

Sourav Ganguly has indeed, scripted a most remarkable comeback, a story as good as any other to be a parable for inspiration.

The last time, I had written about him, Ganguly had just been unceremoniously dumped from the throne of Indian cricket and pundits, all around were busy, writing his epitaph. In the long months of his exile, whenever he would talk of still nursing dreams of playing the World Cup in the Caribbean, people would dismiss it as mere wishful thinking; some would even proffer a few words of pity for someone who had risen so high, but had fallen so mightily. Even the most loyal of his fans had begun doubting a comeback, but it is entirely to his credit that Sourav Ganguly just refused to throw in the towel. Of course, the exile served him well – he has improved his fitness considerably, he has lost that air of “nothing can happen to me and my place in the team, come what may”, he has been playing Ranji trophy matches even in places like Dhanbad, unlike times when he would pull out of even international matches without batting an eyelid. But it is his confidence and the burning desire to prove his critics wrong that has propelled him towards another new innings in Indian colours.

May the Gods script a successful saga for this innings of his.

Why is Old not Gold?

Suresh Raina was hailed as the next biggest thing to happen to Indian cricket. He seemed to have all the requisites for stardom – he was a brilliant fielder; a superb athlete, eager to improve his fitness at every chance; besides having a claim to all the strokes that a good batsman should have in his repertoire. He had already made waves in the U-19 circuit and the wise men of Indian cricket (or a bunch of jokers, if you still remember Jimmy Amarnath’s comments) decided that the time was ripe to blood him in Indian cricketer. “We must invest in the youth”; “We are building a team for the 2007 World Cup” etc. In the midst of all this, experienced cricketers were given the boot – V.V. S. Laxman could not run the 200 m at sub 25 second timings, he could not slide for 3 feet to catch a ball in its tracks before it reaches the boundary rope, he cannot fling himself parallel to the ground to take astounding catches – more importantly, in any case he was on the wrong side of 30 and therefore was not a prospect for the future.

A few months down the line with the World Cup getting perilously closer, India seems to have lost the plot altogether. The bright young things that had been carefully groomed for the event have had their failings cruelly exposed in domains that are different from their usual backyards. And the veterans, having been allowed to rot in the cruel environs of our Ranji setup seem to have got rusty. We are facing a crisis.

Perhaps, it is time to reflect on what has been a usual trend in Indian cricket these days – the tendency to hoist young cricketers too soon on to the international stage. Raina may be a supremely fit youngster with immaculate skills in running between wickets and saving runs, but he is nowhere half as good as V.V.S. Laxman, when it comes to scoring runs, incidentally, his chief job as a batsman. And the reason this is happening is that these days, performances in the U-19 and U-21 levels are all that matter; the long years of hard toil in the Ranji and other domestic tournaments may well be damned. Irfan Pathan had a meteoric rise, straight from the U-19 level and now seems woefully muddled on the international scene; Yuvraj Singh and Mohammed Kaif have never quite seemed to be ready to accept the mantle of senior players; former U-19 World Cup champion Y. Venugopala Rao (Kaif captained that team in 1999 and Yuvraj was a member too) failed to find his feet in international cricket. Go back a few years and you will find more such examples of players who had been blooded a little too early – the spark that the selectors saw in their few matches unfortunately never quite translating into a flame on the biggest stage – I am not sure how many people would remember Laxmi Ratan Shukla – hailed as India’s umpteenth solution to finding a Kapil Dev clone – made his debut when he was stil shy of his 19th birthday and had been forgotten before his 20th; Reetinder Singh Sodhi (incidentally, another of the U-19 winning team of 1999) – vanished after around a dozen desperate chances , cruelly unprepared for international standards etc etc.

Curiously, if you look at the some of the strongest teams of the last decade in international cricket, you would not notice such rashness in introducing new players. Michael Hussey played for years in the Pura Shield before making his Aussie debut at the ripe age of nearly 30 – and boy, he took to international cricket like a fish to water. He reached 1,000 runs in test cricket in the quickest time ever, has made a reputation as one of the most brilliant finishers in the game of cricket ever, keeps piling on runs as if he cannot be expected to score less ever and is already being talked about as Ricky Ponting’s successor. When Glenn McGrath wanted a break from international cricket, the Aussie selectors brought on Stuart Clark, himself over 30 at the time and what a successful career he has had with Australia since. Justin Langer, Matt Hayden, Damien Martyn, Ricky Ponting, Glenn McGrath, Shane Warne - all of them are on the wrong side of 30 - some of 35 - yet the Aussie selectors continue to repose their faith in them and more often than not, with good results.

Unfortunately we, in India, are only too eager at dropping players who do not have some sort of a glam quotient – you would have to be breathtakingly spectacular in some game or sensationally young to warrant investiture as a future prospect. Ramesh Pawar keeps putting in decent performances in ODIs, yet never seems to be part of any stable Indian team; J.P. Yadav played solid, stable cricket in the few chances that he got, yet the selectors only seem to notice his age and little else. Even Dinesh Mongia, despite some good performances in his limited chances, never seems to have the team management’s support. And while some of the players named above can end their playing careers with the consolation of having still got the opportunity to represent India, the likes of Amol Muzumdar (long ago, touted as the next Tendulkar), Kanwaljeet Singh and Rizwan Shamshad would just have to spend their lives telling their grand-children of their monumental Ranji trophy feats, all in vain.

Perhaps, we need to reflect!!

The First of Many?

Marcus Trescothick’s international career as an England batsman may well be over after this latest bout of stress disorder that forced him out of the Ashes series. As a keen cricket buff, who has followed the ebb and tide of English fortunes in the cricketing field over the years, I am disappointed. England may well have turned the tide in the last year and half, topped by the famous Ashes triumph over the old foes, and perhaps much of the credit for that has gone to the young guns – Flintoff and Pietersen, but it was the solidity that Trescothick gave at the top of the order that had paved the way for many a win in recent years. The show, however, as they say must and will go on – a new star would arise over the horizon to take Trescothick’s place, sooner or later. I am optimistic on that count.

But, it is as a simple cricket lover, that I am despondent over the future of cricket. As with some other sports, cricket has now gone beyond the realm of a game – cricket is now a global business with its own set of sleaze and muck. The innocence and simple fun associated with a game is beginning to fade away. The game is run by administrators, who I am sure, are well-meaning people with innovative marketing ideas, solid administration experience etc, albeit coupled with a lot of love for the game; but most of them lack one crucial criterion – they have not played the game. Consequently, they fail to see the cricketer as a human being – they look at him as a resource to generate the moolah that has transformed cricket today. The Malcolm Speeds, Lalit Modis and Sharad Pawars have never been on extended trips to places far away from home, away from family and friends with the expectations of as much as a million people burdening you and millions analyzing your every damn movement to expose chinks in your armour. They are busy making jazzy presentations to all kinds of parties not integral to the game – sponsors, media barons, ad agencies – devising a more and more packed schedule of matches, finding out newer and newer places to play the game. Not that cricketers are above any kind of blame – the lure of money tends to overshadow all kinds of objections to its pursuit – but individually, a cricketer has little option – it is a fiercely competitive world these days and one chance slipped away may mean the end of your career.

Trescothick may well be an exception – you can always say that you have to grow up and be counted as one of the big boys. My only concern is that he may be one of the first to succumb to the greed of the modern game.

A personal bow to Dada

I had been trying to avoid getting into this with people - the issue seems everywhere like an all-pervading hydra. But alas, your roots and Bong roots at that, don't always take too kindly to being denied an outlet.

Sourav Ganguly in many ways, re-defined sports in Bengal. We had traditionally been a soccer-loving state with a heritage of producing hardly a handful of cricketers at international level and save, Pankaj Roy, hardly a home-grown talent. Of course, we had been great at attributing all kinds of manipulative theories to this phenomenon (and not all of them unfounded) and thus, it was with disbelieving glee that a lot of us watched his ascent to the helm of Indian cricket.

Disgraced at the young age of 18, when a lot many, outside Bengal too, considered him a worthy young talent, 'Dada' miraculously returned after a 4 year long wilderness; ironically when many had written him off as an addition to the long list of discards that populate the lower echelons of cricket here. And a return, it was, of the grandest scale. A century at the Mecca of cricket and Sourav had started off on a long innings that would see him tagged as the most successful Indian captain. Indeed, for a long period, Sourav was a treat to watch whenever he would get going - Dravid's tribute to his off-side prowess, perhaps, the most panegyric that a player could expect. Mind you, he was never the possessor of perfect technique and his on-side foibles always well-documented, but grit and gumtion, he posessed in plenty and it served him well as he led India on to a path of unprecedented glory.

And yet, like many before him, Sourav Ganguly failed to see the early ominous signs of his own downfall. His form was the first to desert him; his luck next and finally, unfortunately for him and for Indian cricket, his reasoning and humility. Arrogance had served him well in the early years - the whole mass of Indian humanity and media had admired his bold decision to make the great Steve Waugh wait at the time of toss - "Sourav gives it back to the Aussies" - some had proclaimed. And yet, this was his undoing once his halcyon days were over. Shorn of runs and form, Ganguly exhibited the enduring human trait of defensive stubbornness and refused to stand down. Admirable trait - not giving up - but unfortunately, he stood in the way of candidates, who by then, had acquired greater credentials for the job. Indian cricket had to suffer.

Surely, our Dada was treated unfairly during the Sri Lanka series. It was a humiliation that would have rankled even the supporters of minor mortals like Wasim Jaffer. That it was meted out to a successful former captain, only exposes our fickle allegiance to immediate architects of success.

As I write this, I have just received news of his inclusion for the Pakistan trip. To me, it has the undertones of an elegy. The best that even his die-hard fans can think of, is perhaps, a last hurrah - a reminder of his once glory days. Pluck is the only companion that has stayed loyal to him and perhaps, that itself, will lead him to a few last heroic exploits on Paki soil.

When the dusts of time and controversies have settled, perhaps, we will be able to look back at his days with neutral eyes. To me, as a cricket afficionado and an Indian supporter, Sourav Ganguly has brought immense joy on countless occasions. My thanks to him for all that and I hope that he indeed manages to make this trip to Pakistan - a last hurrah.

As Kurt Cobain once said - "It is better to burn out than to fade away."