It's Just Not Cricket!

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Kiddies, I can't believe I'm spending my time in Mysore blogging about cricket! If only all the nice Canadian boys who tried to explain hockey to me could see this.... but since four of you -- you know who are -- asked, the cricket embroglio continues: the Sydney match ended with an Australian win but as the sports columnist for the Sydney Morning Herald, Peter Roebuck, put it "India have been dudded. No one with the slightest enthusiasm for cricket will take the least satisfaction from the victory secured by the local team in an S(ydney) C(ricket) G(round) Test that entertained spectators, provided some excellent batting but left a sour taste in the mouth. It was a match that will have been relished only by rabid nationalists and others for whom victory and vengeance are the sole reasons for playing sport. Truth to tell, the last day was as bad as the first. It was a rotten contest that singularly failed to elevate the spirit. Until another shocking decision was made by a 61-year-old umpire, reliable in his time but past his prime, the fifth day of this unattractive contest was offering plenty of tension to put alongside the memorable hundreds contributed by capable batsmen on both sides. Thereafter they might as well have drawn stumps, as all interest had been removed. Once justice and fair play have been ejected there is no point in playing the game."

(Here's the article in its entirety.)

So now more controversies swirl around this game with a name that has come to mean good sportmanship. Roebuck's column is brave, and he's concerned about the state of the game and the state of the reputations of the Australian side. I'm concerned about the fallout from the racism charge, given this poisoned environment. It seems that the match was followed by a hearing, wherein it was determined that Harbhajjan did call Andrew Symonds a monkey and he's now been banned from playing in the next three Test matches that India plays. Like I said yesterday, having watched the match as it was being played, I've no doubt that emotions were high and that heated language was used. And I've no qualms about saying that there is a line in the sand and racist remarks cross that line. But... and here's my concern -- if the International Cricket Committee, the voluntary board that makes the ultimate decisions about international cricket -- wants to make a point about zero tolerance, this ain't the match to do it in. As I write, Indian news agencies are reporting that India has filed a counter-charge about abusive language used on the field by an Australian player. The Indian population at large -- those for whom cricket is not a game but a religion (think hockey meets world cup soccer) -- is furious at what they see as Australian intimidation on and off the field. I'm not exaggerating: this was the top news story on every news channel in India (I looked at ones in English, Hindi, Kannada, Tamil, Telugu and Malayalam); there were irate emails and call-ins to the shows demanding that the team be brought home immediately, that such "unfairness" be protested and rejected; and I'm willing to bet my ticket home that this is going to go on for the next couple of days. In this atmosphere, the seriousness of the charge of racist abuse against "Bhajji" is lost -- it's seen by most as another in their list of grievances about the treatment their beloved boys have received in Australia.

Remember Lagaan, anyone? Nothing makes a team close ranks like the kind of scathing criticism that both the Indians (for being sour losers, and for boorishness) and the Australians (for not displaying proper sportsmanship, and for boorishness) are now getting. I wonder... do the complaints sound at all similar? But back to Bhajji and his alleged name-calling: nothing bring this country together like cricket -- if it isn't quite a religion in India, cricket is at least the only national pass time that supercedes religion. And in this orgy of national hair-pulling and chest-thumping that both these testosterone-soaked sides are now indulging in, there is no room for any kind of honest examination of mutual faults and errors.

Ah, the joys of sport. I never knew how much I was missing.