Warne's gone!

I did not watch the last ever competitive game that Shane Keith Warne played (as it appears at this stage, at least) given that the Rajasthan Royals versus Mumbai Indians game was scheduled for a 10:30 p.m. HKT start. The news of Royals' having won the match was therefore sweet. After enduring a mixed season, punctuated by comprehensible ebbs and fighting flows, the boys in sky blue gave their champion captain a fitting farewell by thrashing Mumbai by ten wickets, also in the process keeping Mumbai on tenterhooks over a semi-final berth which appeared a certainty not very long ago. Although nobody is foolish enough to delude themselves by likening IPL games with international contests, the irony that Warne had his last hurrah against fierce rival and close friend - and allegedly a bringer of nightmares to the former a decade and half ago - Tendulkar's side is not lost at least not on me.

As Robin Steen aptly writes in cricinfo, it is difficult to appraise the legacy of men like Warne; perhaps it is even an enviable task. What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of the leg-spinner from Victoria? Is it the blonde hair, the seductive - and in a sense preying (pun intended) - eyes an admixture of the sorcerer's mystery,  his art's beauty and a gambler's deception and the loopy leg-break that stays long enough above the batsman's eye level to make him think he can hit it only to dip suddenly and  have him miss it, by half an inch short of a half-volley, and get bowled (ask Gatting) or edge it to Marks Taylor or Waugh, Heals or Gilly (ask any number of Englishmen, South Africans or Pakistanis)? Or is it the, even by his 'paunchy' standards, over-fat head-shorn shadow of his who always got thrashed around by Laxman and Tendulkar and company as if the runs he gave to the Indian batsmen were reparations for his on-field philandering elsewhere? Would Warne be remembered, as Ian Chappell once said, as the best captain to have never captained Australia or would he be recalled as a dark genius, who was always game for a game and who could inspire but who, by his own admission, was rather cavalier for Australian cricket's top job which is pregnant with historical esteem? Should we even get into his personal life and talk about his indiscretions as a husband or affections as a father or should we just be content and say "SKW was born to bowl leg-breaks like SRT was born to bat"? 

At the end of the day, it is, perhaps, a matter of perspective. Peter Roebuck once wrote something along the following lines: we urge and castigate our sportspersons fiercely because those moments when we are in their (virtual) company are the only ones when we are free of our own bondages, weaknesses and limitations. The adulation surrounding and the accusations levelled against the great Australian leg-spinner, too, can be read in the spirit of Roebuck's argument. Underlying every moralising take on Warne's personal life is arguably a standpoint which represents an immanent aspiration of perfection that could be elusive. Likewise aggrandising the man (or his brandname) - such as labelling the 1994 ball to Gatting as the ball of the century when an off-spinner's equivalent of the delivery from Muralidharan to Sadagopan Ramesh hardly received a murmur in the press - is a product of a cricketing culture that thrives  not only on intense competitiveness but also on immense, and at times unabashed, conceit.

What must, however, be remembered is that Warne, like the other great stars of his time, has merely been a magnet, if willingly so, that has attracted songs and snipes alike. What he did for the game cannot be, should not be and will not be forgotten. Alongside Muralidharan and Anil Kumble, Warne has overseen a couple of, arguably, the most extraordinary decades of spin bowling, the likes of which I may not witness before my sunset. Like Tendulkar, albeit to a lesser extent, Warne has been an icon, a face not only to be recognised but also remembered and the man who made things happen on the field and sold things off it: Warne was one of the first sign-ins the moment IPL germinated in Lalit Modi's mind. Like his pace bowling compatriot, and very often partner in crime Glenn McGrath, Warne is a ruthless, or at best nonchalant, sadist when confronted by a(n even slightly nervous) batsman (ask Athers and Daryl Cullinan). Like Wasim Akram he is an original, each man a giant in getting the ball to talk, tease, taunt and thrill! And like Brian Charles Lara, in my opinion the greatest lone match-winner of his time, he is a flawed genius, which makes his tale all the more interesting to read. Enough said, he will be missed. Farewell Warney. We do not know if you will be the richer for poker, but it will be the richer for you, while cricket will be the poorer.     

The SSC saga and a malediction for bowlers!

So, the test match at the Sinhalese Sports Club is finally over. Save Rahul Dravid and V.V.S Laxman who would be cursing themselves for having missed an opportunity to escalate their averages and century counts, all the other batsmen enjoyed themselves, combining for close to 1500 runs for the loss of just seventeen wickets which is less than two bowled-out innings. And if Randiv never returns to play test cricket again, I will not blame him, although being a Sri Lankan I am sure he would be strong enough to treat the pitch at SSC as an aberration probably prepared by someone who carries psychological scars from his past inflicted by bowlers. And as the test series moves to P Sara Oval which is also located in Colombo, one wonders if the contest will get any better. Well, at this stage, it looks like even the concrete front yard of my house will be better for bowlers than SSC.

A number of things were wrong about the test match just concluded at Colombo, not the least of them being a surface that did not offer anything more than slow turn which barring Dravid everyone, including Mithun and Ishant Sharma, had time to tackle. Yet to blame SSC singly for hosting such drab test matches is to be purblind and willfully ignorant of grounds like that around the world. The Motera at Ahmedabad comes to mind and so does the Antigua Recreation Ground in the West Indies; the most recently played tests at both these venues produced results not far more or less insipid than the mind-numbing draw we witnessed at SSC. With the lone exception of Karachi, pitches in Pakistan too are flat, but at least they offer expected if not extravagant turn on the fourth and fifth days of a game. The Oval in London and the Adelaide Oval have also been batting havens for years but these pitches at least have true bounce given that they are in England and Australia and with occasional help from the weather bowlers at least have (half) a chance. In India, Sri Lanka and the West Indies when the summer is at its peak and batsmen are in full flow, there is absolutely no respite for bowlers let alone relief. It is precisely in these inhumane contexts that an extra layer of grass or a slightly less hard pitch may give the toiling bowlers a window of opportunity. 

As it is, test cricket is losing ground to its youngest sibling in the game, the T20s, and a number of detractors of the games longest version, including my shrewd co-author friend here, think that test cricket’s status as the game’s foremost format is but an artifact of unimpeded history and little else. If test matches like the second one between Sri Lanka and India become the norm – not that contest-less run fests are just exceptions, which is a cause for concern – then the game’s governing body can kiss goodbye to the format sooner than they may anticipate and focus full time on marketing the game played under floodlights, with glitzy jerseys and with a lot of éclat even if with comparatively less demands on substance. This is not to say that I despise the game’s newest format or that it is corrupting the game or even that it is superficial. If the game needs to spread globally, for instance, T20s are the only option. Even as an ardent fan of test cricket I am sensible enough to admit and understand that the game’s coffers and traditional values are situated in different places. So each format has its own raison d’ etre and is required for the meaningfulness of the game overall. But what I regret is the rapid dwindling of crowds in test match cricket as evidenced during the test at SSC. 

I had written earlier as well that if ICC is really, not just academically and rhetorically, interested in salvaging test cricket as a format, let alone as the most preferred one (a status which I believe it has already lost!), pitches are an area that the governing body should bring under its broad aegis. I am not too sure if there already is a pitch-related ICC committee, and if there is I do not see what it is doing. There is a touch of irony too in that when it comes to high-scoring games which end in predictable one-hour-before-close, not last ball, draws, we protest vociferously but the sonority fades soon enough. But when one ball rears up awkwardly like it did at Ferozshah Kotla, everyone goes gaga about it and fifty experts speak about how dangerous it is for batsmen to have such pitches! I am not encouraging pitches like those prepared at Kotla for the one-day game against Sri Lanka and India that was later abandoned. Sir Viv Richards Stadium in Antigua and Sabaina Park in Jamaica have also hoisted test matches over the years that have had to be called off barely an hour into the game because the pitches were underprepared. But the point is if some pitches are considered unsuitable for playing because they are a threat to batsmen’s physical well-being, then the pitches we have at the Antigua Recreation Ground, Sinhalese Sports Club, Ahmedabad and Faislabad should be considered unsuitable too because they are a threat to bowling itself. To relegate the latter form of unsuitability as an epiphenomenon just because it is less tangible than the possibility of physical injury betrays a want of commonsense and equanimity from those who are supposed to safeguard the interests of the game, which lay among other things in there being a contest between bat and ball.

While the sub-continent continues to host matches which are played in conditions that remain hell for bowlers, Pakistan’s last test match against Australia at Headingley and the ongoing one against England at Trent Bridge show how keeping the bowlers in the game interested is the only – commonsensical – way to ensure results in test cricket which in turn may bring more crowds to watch it. Indeed, one cannot expect groundsmen in India, Sri Lanka, West Indies or Pakistan to get the same sort of wherewithal that pitch curators in Australia, New Zealand, South Africa or England get; the opposite case is true too. It is needless to say that weather conditions play a part and these are beyond human control. But the fact remains we can still prepare pitches that give something for the bowlers. The Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bangalore is a great example. Nobody even presumes that it is like Perth or Gabba; it does not need to be. But the wicket always has something in it for the quick men, at least first thing in the morning, is beautiful to bat on once you get your eye in and offers appreciable but not threatening turn during the last day and half. 

At the end of the day, it is balance between bat and ball that one asks for, not a historical reversal where batsmen get repeatedly shot out for less than 250 nine times out of ten. I prefer low-scoring thrillers to high-scoring ones any day, but that is not the point. Getting a five-for or a hundred and fifty in tests, both should entail some effort in the game’s toughest format. If five-fors happen once in ten games but double-hundreds come around every fourth innings, there is something fundamentally wrong about the equation. This is precisely what has been happening for years, at least in countries known to produce flat pitches, and unless corrected soon, the plague may come to haunt the very heritage of test cricket in these parts of the world.