On batting rearguards

Written on February 17, 2014. 

There is something about batting rearguards that justifies the 'Test' in Test cricket. Never mind that cricket is a lopsidedly batsman-friendly game these days (minus, thanks be to, Mitch Johnson and Dale Steyn), never mind that grounds are becoming smaller as boundaries are brought in closer and never mind the quality of the opposition's bowling attack; for to bat is to face up to the six (or seven) possible dismissals possible every delivery: that is 1080 possible dismissals in a 30-over session  and 3240 in a day. While numbers in general reduce the spirit of sporting feats to the perfectly ground grey sheen of history, the numbers a batsman keeps at bay as he tries to remain undefeated foreground the (routinely) monumental nature of his task.

As much as the numbers a batsman generates with the bat, it is the numbers he does not generate that puts him at the forefront of all Test cricket, in my opinion. No wonder we old-fashioned aficionados of the game love the guy who can carry his bat, the bloke in the lower middle-order who can defend like his life depended on it, or the frail-looking tail-ender who is still game for a bloody good scrap: it is a romance that fetes the almost physical will of bloody-mindedness (over and) against the inexorably boring press of brain-generated odds. As fans of this glorious game of essentially slow rhythms and subtle music that is an acquired taste - (what can football fans who mock us possibly know about lengthening shadows as a tired fast bowler runs into bowl to a batsman on 94*?) - we may embrace the fast food excitement of an IPL night, the high-strung nationalistic passions triggered by a T20 international, the creativity and genius unveiled in a one-day seven-for or double-hundred and a team's collective stamina revealed in a World Cup triumph. However, what we find most delicious is the anxiety and suspense generated by a batsman (or two batsmen), as he walks to square leg or does some gardening on the pitch, before resuming his battle with eleven players, the field placements, the weather, the pitch, the overall context of the game, his own body and mind and, from to time, the very expectant or very hostile ground. To bat, therefore, is to be blind to everything but the next delivery, just as to live is to not think too much.

Watching McCullum (281*) negotiate every next ball over the last five sessions, I am sure that New Zealand fans and keen-eyed neutrals have experienced at least some nervously knotty moments in their tummy. While I have not seen a ball of the Kiwi skipper's knock, which indeed inspired this post, news of it made me reminisce about other back-from-behind batting masterpieces which have become legends in my memory. Topping that very personal list of mine are two innings played under vastly different conditions, contrasting in style and substance (of runs and outcomes), but united by a sense of context. Laxman's 281 at Kolkata 2001, as almost every Indian cricket fan knows, denied Steve Waugh his final frontier and heralded an all-time great Test series and, later, a fascinating rivalry for the rest of the decade. While I cannot pick out one standout stroke from Laxman's innings - a difficulty writers tend to experience while trying to describe any Very Very Special canvas - I remember its (apparently) relentless elegance belying the steel of the wrists (and heart) that worked it, as it took the game out well beyond the follow-on context within which it was wrought, and took it beyond Australia's reach.

Six years before Laxman performed his fluent Houdini act in Dravid's gritty and generously perspiring company in the coming heat of a March day at the Eden Gardens, Michael Atherton, who also preferred grit over grace but displayed both on his day, had defied Donald, Pollock and Brian McMillan at the aptly-nicknamed 'Bull Ring (which would turn out to be the locale of Dravid's own maiden hundred) before returning to the dressing room, 185-starred. While Athers' tour de force did not help England reach the target of 479 that the Proteas had set for them, it saved England the Test.  Atherton himself, having opened the batting, had batted for thirty seven minutes shy of two days and had faced 492 deliveries in producing a modern-day classic of sound defence (and very Kipling-esque stoicism). I did not watch a single ball of the innings - and have not found any video footage of it - and so, with the dramatising powers of imagination, it grows ever more fascinating in my estimation.  

Having mentioned a knock I watched live and another that was played during my time, I must now mention what in my opinion is the greatest rearguard of all: Hanif Mohammad's 337*, the sort of innings that can inspire in a young child, as it did in me, a slightly unhealthy obsession towards Test cricket (and an even more insane aptitude to draw parallels between that and life especially when the chips are down). The innings, as cricinfo informs, came late in the 1950s against a West Indies side that included the likes of Sir Garry Sobers, Alf Valentine and Roy Fredricks, at Kensington Oval in Barbados. Before being asked to follow-on, Pakistan had replied to West Indies' 579 with 106 (all out). Opening the batting in the second dig as in the first, Hanif Mohammad batted for thirty minutes shy of a thousand and saved the Test, easy peasy (as the Iron Man would say). No innings known to me can better describe a recently popular, if paradoxical take, on cricket: "that it is a team game played by individuals."

Neither Hanif Mohammad, nor V.V.S Laxman, nor Michael Atherton came close to matching their (respectively) match-saving, match-winning and match-drawing rearguard efforts during the rest of their careers: no sir!, not in terms of runs, deliveries faced, or hours battled. On triple hundreds, the late Peter Roebuck memorably wrote that "it is the work of a lifetime expressed in a single innings." Perhaps, one could say the same about a rearguard, as evidenced by the fact that there are not many batsman with more than one triple-hundred (Lara, Gayle, Bradman and Sehwag excepted) or one backs-to-the-wall opus (Faf Du Plessis, take a bow) to their credit. Perhaps, a definitive peak betokens a clear descent. Be that as it may, Brendon 'Baz' McCullum has the great chance of turning a rare rearguard into a rarer third innings triple hundred as the final day gets underway at Wellington. Rest assured, I shall cheer for him; and so, I am sure, will Martin Crowe, who missed the feat by a run at New Zealand's capital city against Sri Lanka, and who has waited twenty-three years to see a New Zealand batsman register his name in the illustrious 300 club.

Long Version Woes!

What is likely to happen when a colossus of 305 test matches and 454 completed innings yielding 24842 runs at a staggering 54.71 comes to be supplanted by complete vacuum or a commodity that is bound to look like vacuum anyway? The statistical edifice in question jointly refers to arguably the greatest no.3 and no.4 pair World Cricket has ever produced, responding respectively to the calls Rahul Sharad Dravid and Sachin Tendulkar. While the Indian middle-order’s mainstays’ turning 37 has seldom reflected in their form or appetite for runs or for that matter fitness (a lesson in commitment for upcoming youngsters), especially recently, the pragmatic will apart from basking in the glory of their legends’ extended stroke-filled sunshine have to start thinking about the Indian batting order’s future in tests. Forget about the rather inexplicable ICC rankings which are more responsible than India’s performances for its being ranked number 1 in test cricket, if the looming batting woes in the longer format are anything to go by India will do well to be in the top half of the table once the Karanataka-Maharashtra duo hang up their boots although to attribute a team’s success to the indispensability of even great geniuses is a rather fallacious argument. I hope the Indian test team proves it a fallacy!

The clarion call or the warning bell (choose your metaphor!), however, is clear: it is not based on one-off premonitions; nor am I a craven sports pessimist who glories in all things past without giving the current crop the due it deserves. Even as we lose ourselves all over again, pathetically, despite the lessons afforded by hindsight, in fortifying a squad for the upcoming world cup and unearthing more big-hitters, necessities in their own right, to lose sight of the transition that lies ahead for Indian test cricket speaks of a disturbingly purblind mindset. And just in case the argument needs any backing-up, the support comes from two quarters – the finest team of the last couple of decades, Australia, and the performances of our own rookie stars in recent tournaments.

It has been known for years that the supreme quality of cricket the Australians have played at the international level is just a logical extension of the quality manifest in the domestic competition, perhaps the toughest domestic league in world cricket. And yet, no right-minded Australian team-member, selector or fan would say (in the candour afforded by privacy at least) that a Gilchrist, Langer or Hayden is not being missed. Even with the notorious and prolific genius of Ricky Ponting, the reliability – despite its extended blip – of Michael Hussey, the effervescence of Michael Clarke and the bright start Marcus North has made to his test career, the Australian batting does not look nearly as formidable as three summers ago. Indeed, every sporting unit goes through a bit of a trough for ebbs and lows are but the very substance of Physics and life, but it is the way the unit picks itself up which defines its quintessence. While the Australians have not quite gone to the cleaners during the last few years, credit to the system envisioned by Allan Border and company at the ingress of the 1990s, that they have relatively struggled despite a rich pipeline of talent coupled with continued experience does not bode green pastures for the Indian battle order after Dravid and Tendulkar.

Analogous cases apart, the talent we have in our midst, as demonstrated in the shorter formats, does not look like it will stand up to the challenges of test cricket just yet. Ungainly handling of the short ball is just one of the worries; the glitch is technical and with practice could be bettered or worked around if not eliminated. But what about the aspect of temperament which readily reflects in on-field behaviour and fitness? Gifted and princely as he is, Yuvraj Singh’s career trail during the last season and half is a classic case of a trajectory that has plummeted because of a palpable disinterestedness or contrarily a tendency to become too big for his shoes, both of which speak of a man who has not got mind over matter. To see India’s best fielder let the ball through his legs or called as “pregnant” on twitter is painful but I am sure Yuvi himself sees the point. Rohit Sharma has promised and delivered, but either in flashy genius – like during the finals of the VB Series in Australia (2008) or the IPLs – or with extended periods of silence. Suresh Raina’s cross-batted heaves of anything resembling short stuff is indication that the talented left-hander who elicited comparisons with Tendulkar has a long way to go before he can think of even landing a test spot. Virat Kohli seems to have the right kind of head on his young shoulders along with a great mix of caution and aggression – but it is early days in the Delhi-ite’s career. As if players’ individual woes were not enough, the selectors seem reluctant to test out those people who have displayed obvious class and consistent ability to score runs.

It has been a couple of years since Sourav Ganguly’s exit and yet the persistence with Yuvraj is incomprehensible. The flirting outside the off-stump would not just do. Subramaniam Badrinath is a batsman in the classical mould who has scored tons and tons of runs for Tamil Nadu and yet does not seem to have impressed enough. Soon, he would become another one of those best never-to-have-played Indian middle-order batsmen and he is already in the wrong side of twenties one feels. Michael Husseys are picked only in Australia. Cheteshwar Pujara, unlike the middle-aged Badri, is just 22, has been incredibly prolific (with a first-class highest of 301!) but one hopes the selectors pick him sooner than later. There is no point in shielding people or giving them runs so short that nobody, least of all the player himself, has a chance to judge talent on a commonsensical basis. Sometimes, baptism by fire is the way to go.

Dravid’s and Tendulkar’s exits are not the only worries that should challenge an Indian fan’s imagination about the country’s future in tests. Laxman may not be around too long either but even if we assume that he will be around long enough to herd a new battalion of young talent and mentor them to some degree of maturity, the bowling still leaves a lot to be desired. Zaheer Khan has been rightly the spearhead for India in the longer format over the last five years but has been injury-prone; if he asks the right questions of his body and makes the right choices – like reducing if not cutting off participatin in limited overs cricket – there is an outside chance he may play four more seasons: two to three, however, seems more like it.

Harbhajan Singh his ‘economising success’ in limited-overs for Mumbai Indians and India seems to have unfortunately taken the T20 formula too much to heart for his and as well his country’s good: you frankly cannot expect to get wickets with Yorkers in test cricket and Graeme Swann, who has been better than Muralidharan and Harbhajan over the last season and half, has reasserted the simple magic of orthodox flighted off-breaks which can break through the best batsmen's defences (if Ricky Ponting despite his weakness against off-spin is a case in point). Harbhajan is smart and knows the value of flight himself  but sadly is not able to translate his thinking into deeds! To me he has not nearly lived up to his tag India’s first spinner since Anil Kumble’s retirement. Amit Mishra has been impressive but needs a senior person at the other end to work well in tandem – again case for Harbhajan to pull up his socks. Selectors and captains should reassess their rather unstated reluctance to pick left-arm spinners as well: Pragyan Ojha has according to be been India’s best spinner in the last two seasons and his non-selection for the T20 World Cup spoke of ineptitude as big as an overblown balloon. Ojha is still young but one only hopes that his does not become the case of Murali Karthik, hardly picked in the playing XI in Ganguly’s times, which only drove him to seek a livelihood in the cold county shores of England where the railways spinner has thankfully done well for himself proving a point or two to his former skippers and the selectors.

The fast-bowling reservoir looks rich, as rich as it has in many years, on paper with Sreesanth (will he ever become more civilized and therefore more effective?), Ishanth Sharma (Ponting’s punter who has since fallen back to mortality and realized that youth is not all jolly hunting), R.P. Singh (can he get wickets only under overcast conditions?), Munaf Patel (the Asif, if not McGrath, wannabe who looks as much of an enigma to himself as to the world), Irfan Pathan (who seems to have lost his swing, his most potent weapon, and pace) and others like Umesh Yadav and Ashok Dinda heralded by the IPL: clearly India’s most potent first attack needs to comprise Harbhajan, Zaheer Khan, Ishant Sharma and one or two more. But with two of the frontline bowlers themselves reduced to containment or their limitations and India’s flank not inspiring trust based on recent performances, getting twenty wickets against top class batting may become difficult especially on good pitches. And great test teams bad decently even on green tops and bowl out teams even on insipid belters!

Ironically, the one area which the current Indian selectors need not worry themselves thin over is one which gave past captains and selectors many a nightmare: with Sehwag and Gambhir, both extraordinarily consistent at the top and many years ahead of them, and a solid Murali Vijay always doing well whenever he has filled-in, the opening combination looks settled (abstracting from the vagaries and unpredictability the game stuns the players with from time to time). Yet elsewhere Dhoni – I think he is the best skipper we have had in years and all the recent crosstalk about the team’s failure as stemming from the captain himself betrays some ordinary thinking from brains in a position of unimpeachable responsibility and can be thought of as crass gmale-gaming gobbledygook – the selectors and the aging seniors themselves have to seek the right answers, and fast.

One thing I have personally suggested for a while, at least as regards the batting line-up, is for Tendulkar and Dravid to play alternate series so: (i) one of the two slots is vacated for test by a rookie; (ii) the youngster(s) can still have the opportunity of batting with one of the two greats, learning a thing or two in the process. Either the illustrious right-handers have not thought of it themselves or may be the selectors have not quite given them cues of such a possibility or choice. I feel we are already late as far as the grooming process is concerned but it is better to start late than never. As far as the bowling goes, I only hope that those at various levels in the fringes of selection work their own graphs towards a comeback. After all, success in sport for an individual like in much else depends a lot on personal commitment, resilience and desperation to get to the top. And for those like Yuvraj who have been to the top, and let it slip, there is a lot of soul-searching and inspiration-seeking to do. But in the form of Dravid and Tendulkar, men who have each seen several downs and raged or clawed out of them with incandescent or effective ups, our disoriented youngsters have the best epitomes. One only hopes that even if Indian batting goes through a low as an immediate consequence of Tendulkar’s and Dravid’s retirement, it is not an extended one. The insurance lies in the hands of our genuinely talented, and often extravagantly touted, youth. Hope they have seen the SOS and are listening!           

            

Sub-continental Sunshine!

If you are a close enough watcher of the game of cricket, you will know that not only does every cricketing nation or group of nations have its own cricketing culture but also that such cultures have an influence on things as palpable as style. To see a Western Australian brought upon the livewire tracks of the WACA in Perth hook fearlessly; a South African anticipate the ball like Jonty Rhodes did in the nineties; a Sri Lankan right-hander have that almost rounded back lift and neat follow-through during the drives; a West Indian plonking the front-foot bravely to play a Richards-ian short-arm pull; or a Pakistani pace-man run in with momentum is the very sum and substance of inherited style. I would in fact go to the extent of asserting that it is precisely this variety which makes watching the game such an enthralling experience.

In this edition on style (and there may be more to come as we go on!), I would like to focus on a breed of sub-continent batsmen, particularly from India and Pakistan, who took cricketing artistry to the next level. And one thing common to the ilk of artistes to be discussed here irrespective of the country they played for, their cricketing upbringing, the times they played in, the genius they displayed and the number of runs they eventually scored is their wrist work. A century and a while ago the famed Ranjisnhji, who “invented” the leg glance, had opened the on-side as a possible area for scoring and caught the cricketing world’s imagination. The sub-continentals at least have taken the cue to their hearts and have not looked back.

It is often thought that among the the grandmasters on the on-side Azharuddin was among the ugulier what with his prodding rather than fluent style, his mowed rather than hit sixes and a tongue that constantly hanged out when he was in his elements. Yet few can question the sheer wizardry of the man when it came to the role the wrists played in his stroke-play. Hereabouts was a man who could almost turn anything to anywhere between long-leg to mid-wicket with effortless ease; and when he lost the tag of being a on-side bully, he showed us how even his straight drives and square-cuts were “rubbery” wrists over extension of the arms and sheer ingenious skill rather than brute strength.

Across the border two other Moslems, one I had both the privilege and exasperation of watching and another who I have just heard about, used their wrists to take touch-play and on-side play in particular to a different level. Responding respectively to the appellations of Javed Miandad and Zaheer Abbas, the Pakistani right-handers were both masters of footwork, good players of fast bowling, great players of spin and had legendary wrists. To see Miandad in especial play was to watch almost a sleeping batsman get to thirty or forty before you or even he knew it. The gentle glides and late dabs on the off-side, strokes executed with a late uncorking of wrists, are arguably his contribution to the one-day game and his spiritual understudy (arguably!) Mohammad Yousuf did him no harm by emulating the Pakistani master’s game to perfection in addition to playing those gorgeous extra-cover drives which were pure artistry (once again wrists rather than extension).

Fondly called “Vishy, Gundappa Vishwanath was another sub-continental stalwart whose stroke play, it is acclaimed, had a lot of wrist work about it. One of my life’s biggest cricketing regrets is not to have seen this little man from Karnataka play those gritty innings against Pakistan when the chips were down. It is indubitable that if he had played in an era that did not have a certain Sunil Manohar Gavaskar in it Vishy would have been considered a genius in his own right. Be that as it may, the gentleman’s contribution to sub-continental batting is every bit a class in itself.

With the modern game teetering on the fringes of its shortest format where brutal strength, flamboyance and cute innovations match wits with one another, there seems to be little scope to assess let alone appreciate and foster the subtle dexterity displayed by the greats of the yesteryear. It is not as if the ‘softer skills’ required of batsmen that be have been lost, but more often than not they do not come to the forefront. Thankfully though we still have in our midst stars who give us at least glimpses of the rich tradition of orthodoxy which would have been sheer magic to watch for spectators in the past.

Recent performances by guys like Mahela Jeywardena in the IPL or the world T20 is a case in point. The elbow starting forever at the skies, the bat following through on a full-arc following the momentum given by the wrists and the ball scorching the turf or sailing smoothly over the boundary boards still provide the sub-continental purist great joy for this is a brood that seems to be dwindling like Tigers in the Indian forests. And yet we should be privileged to have in our midst guys of the style and class of V.V.S Laxman, a man who could on-drive Shane Warne against the spin on a fourth day pitch at Eden Gardens en route to a majestic 281. And as far as masters of the wrist go, there are not many today who are better than the Hyderabadi stylist who when in full flight simultaneously brings to mind the fluent sights and the rustling sounds of an elegant river.