From: "Salil Tripathi" <salil61-AT-hotmail.com> Subject: Re: cricket Date: Sat, 05 Jan 2002 08:54:55 +0000 Sudeep, Qadri: I believe sports teams are an example of quotas not being necessary. It is a difficult question for South Africa, though, where the population polarization is so acute that English-speaking SAfricans prefer cricket, Afrikaans-speaking SAfricans seem to prefer rugby, and the black majority prefers soccer. Integrating population would indeed be a desirable goal. But I doubt if quotas are the way forward: in many teams, race has in fact not been a barrier for inclusion. The English have Hussain, Butcher and Ramprakash; the New Zealand team had a deepak Patel,if I recall correctly. West Indies has had whites and Indians. And the best Indian teams have had a multiethnic mix that reveals India's diversity at its best: Roger Binny, Farokh Engineer, Pataudi, Bishen Singh Bedi, Sunil Gavaskar from an earlier time; these days it is Conner Williams, Z Khan, Harbhajan Singh, and Sachin Tendulkar. In fact, I believe Australia is the only country which has not had a cricketer of color playing for the country, unless Whatmore is counted as one--can anyone throw some light on this? I had posted the following piece I wrote during the Christmas break -- if you had your mailers turned off, I send it again -- I agree, Eden Gardens should replace the Lord's as the game's HQ...... Salil ------ The Sporting Life: The Empire Strikes Back By Salil Tripathi The world of cricket almost came apart late last month over a dispute between the International Cricket Council and India. In the end, the controversy was solved, but not before revealing that the way the game is administered -- steeped in colonial-era traditions and a mythical code involving gentlemanly behavior, fair play and the umpire's decision being final -- will have to change. It was yet another nail in the coffin of the established order that a certain class of England appreciates. Our story begins in Port Elizabeth, where in the second test between India and South Africa, the match referee, a Scotsman of modest cricketing abilities called Mike Denness, punished six Indian players for "excessive appealing," or shouting too much. The touring Indians found Mr. Denness's decisions preposterous. South Africans were equally boisterous but not punished. The dispute threatened to escalate when India included a player Mr. Denness had banned for one match, in the squad for the first test match against England, played in Mohali, India. In the end, India relented and kept the offending cricketer on the bench, but not before securing a commitment from the ICC that it would inquire into the controversy over the conduct of Mr. Denness. By agreeing to do so, the ICC bowed to the inevitable democratization of the game. The balance of power in international cricket has been shifting since the 1980s. The English invented the game, and are proud of its headquarters being at the Lord's Cricket Ground in London, where the ICC meets as the keeper of its rules, and where, until recently, England and Australia held veto power. But real power is shifting to the Indian subcontinent, where the world's most passionate crowds routinely fill stadiums, yielding millions of dollars for cricket boards around the world through sponsorship and TV royalties. Advertisers offer millions to the game's organizers, even if the match is played in non-cricketing cities like Singapore, or Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates -- if India and Pakistan are playing. India and Pakistan want a greater say in the way the game is run. But the ICC seems reluctant to accept the fundamental change that money can bring, and acts as if cricket is still a game played on English public school fields with their aristocratic, gentlemanly code of behavior that they are qualified to interpret. In England itself, the most vociferous fans these days are from the immigrant communities of India, Pakistan and the Caribbean. They bring enthusiasm with their dhols (an Indian drum) and samba drums, which the game of polite applause lacks in England. Occasionally they go berserk, as some did this summer, forcing some English grounds to be fenced and making social commentators lament the rise of cricket hooligans, a term usually associated with football. That's almost the end of the world; for cricket was the game for gentlemen, football was the one for the masses. Until well into the 20th century, only "a gentleman," an amateur, could captain England; someone who earned his livelihood playing the game could not. Such a code was born out of conventions formed a century ago; of cricket being a meadow game with a fair name played under a mellow sun on a village green on a balmy afternoon. It was the only game in which players stopped for tea in the afternoon. Intricate rules governed fair play, and players applauded their rivals. And the umpire's decision was final. To defy an umpire's authority was simply "not cricket," itself a metaphor for fairness. But of course these were myths. Play by the gentlemanly code? In the 1930s, the Australian batsman Donald Bradman was shattering every known record with his phenomenal batting. To contain him, the visiting English captain Douglas Jardine asked his main fast bowler, Harold Larwood, to bowl consistently on Mr. Bradman's weaker flank, and packed the ground with six fielders ready to catch the lofted ball. Mr. Jardine succeeded in curbing Mr. Bradman's appetite and injuring several Australian players. England defeated Australia in what came to be known as the bodyline series, and almost destroyed Britain's diplomatic relations with Australia. Never question an umpire's decision? One famous English player from the last century was W.G. Grace, in whose honor the British government once issued postage stamps. He was notorious for questioning umpires. Once, when he got out early in a county match, he challenged the umpire by asserting that people had come to see him bat, and not to watch the umpire. Cricket's code sounded reasonable in the age before television. It was impossible for the spectators to know if a batsman was really out, and the umpire's decision was final. Teams from the Indian subcontinent were weak then, and it was hard for them to prove that a few umpiring decisions were all that separated them from their rivals. In the late 1970s, an Australian rebellion made cricket a popular television sport. Now cameras intruded everywhere, you could hear the sighs, gasps and taunts, and feel the faint nicks. Then in 1983, India won the World Cup, and Pakistan followed in 1992. Thanks to television replays, it was possible to second-guess the umpire. A third umpire now sits in the pavilion, watching a disputed appeal in slow motion, ruling when the umpires on the ground cannot. And the match referee is the final arbiter. But what if he gets it wrong? Umpires, like the empire, are now fallible. The empire has ended, and the umpire is no longer the final authority. And from the subcontinent, the former empire is striking back. ====Mr. Tripathi, a London-based writer, is working on his first novel. _________________________________________________________________ Join the world’s largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. http://www.hotmail.com --- from list postcolonial-AT-lists.village.virginia.edu ---
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