VIEWPOINT
AMITABH SHUKLA
Early this month, a friend coaxed
me to join him in watching an IPL match at Punjab Cricket Association (PCA)
stadium in Mohali, just a kilometre from my residence in Chandigarh .
Reluctantly, I agreed — not to
watch cricket but to talk about myriad other things with food and drinks thrown
in as all inclusive price of the high-end tickets of the corporate boxes. Last
year, I watched two games and this year too, I could not gather enough courage
to watch more than two of the six matches scheduled in Mohali.
Sitting in the stadium, I
realised how little stake and involvement the people had while watching the
match. Very few were interested in the cricket being played in the ground and
almost everyone was confused as to which team to support. At the end,
spectators just clapped for the good
shot, a good ball or a good fielding effort. The team was immaterial. This was
not surprising as the so called home team Kings XI Punjab hardly had any
Punjabi players with whom the people could associate. It was led by an
Australian Adam Gilchrist and another Australian Darren Lehmann was the coach.
Apart from the name Punjab suffixed with Kings XI, there
was nothing Punjabi about the team.
I wondered why at all people
would watch the match and why would they support any team as there was nothing
to choose between the two competing teams. I asked my friend about it. “It is
unscripted drama. In a movie, you have a script, in a television soap opera you
have a script. But here, the cricketing drama is unscripted and that is the
real fun,” he told me.
Ten days later, I realised that
the script of the IPL match too was written and what came out in the episode of
Sreesanth and others of Rajasthan Royals must have been going on ever since the
hastily put IPL came on the scene. Remember, IPL was a reaction to the Indian
Cricket League (ICL) put up by the Zee group after the World Cup fiasco of India .
The BCCI reacted to the ICL in which legends like Kapil Dev were associated and
put up IPL under the now disgraced Lalit Modi, safely ensconced in London
after a series of cases in India .
As IPL was a reaction to ICL, all
norms were thrown to the wind and it started with the trial and error
methodology. Some norms, just for the sake for it, were put up to keep the
cricketing tamasha going on by the BCCI. It was the cricketing equivalent of a
three-hour long formula film to milk the cricket loving nation’s public.
After the spot fixing scandal,
that façade which the IPL and its parent body BCCI had built assiduously has
gone. Now everything is under scrutiny. Even if a player suffers from some
itching problem genuinely and scratches his body, it would be construed as a
signal to some bookies. What to say of putting towel in trousers, even if he
sneezes, smiles, appeals or ties the laces of his shoes, the action would be
scrutinised. The spectators watching the match would find it fishy even if
something natural happens in the field. I suspect that the Sreesanth saga is
just tip of the iceberg.
Cricket undoubtedly is one game,
which triggers myriad feelings among Indians — euphoria when the country wins,
jingoism when the victory is against Pakistan, excitement when there is a photo
finish and a sense of loss which lingers for days when team India gets beaten
in a one-sided match. It is one common thread from Kashmir
to Kanyakumari and from Arunachal Pradesh to Gujarat
which brings strangers together and they can break into a conversation on the
performance of Sachin Tendulkar or why a particular player has been inducted or
kept out of the team.
After watching IPL unfold before
me last year and this year, my romance with the game and nostalgia associated
with cricket went for a toss. Even without spot or match fixing, I saw the game
being reduced to a caricature in which there was no place for emotions, no
place for the classical game which cricket is. Instead, it was a big circus, an
entertainment and not sports.
After being dropped at the main
gate when I started walking towards the entrance of the stadium, instead of
getting a feeling of cricket or a sporting event, it seemed as if I was going
for a disco or a late night party. Nattily dressed boys and girls, men and
women had applied perfumes and cologne liberally. Bouncers of the “Home” team
were there all over the place, flexing their biceps and walking with chest
pulled up so that the fat around their tummy is not visible.
Socialites of Chandigarh,
aspiring models, businessmen from the region, a few bureaucrats and police
officers who had obviously been given free passes, moved from the bar to the
snacks counter and then to their seats. They were interested in everything else
but cricket. It was a social outing for almost all of them. Clearly, the venue
was the most happening place of the city that night and the IPL match was
incidental.
Some of the spectators had been
sponsored by a corporate house and were wearing the T-Shirts of their sponsors
after winning a promotional event. When they go back home, they will obviously
tell their neighbours that they saw the Sukhna Lake, Rose Garden, Sector 17
market and the IPL match at Mohali stadium. They were clicking frantically and
this would be the proof for their neighbours. I wondered how many would
remember who was batting or bowling and which team got defeated the next day.
Just to have a feel of the
atmosphere, I stepped out on the balcony from the AC lounge. Loud music blared
the moment an over was bowled. The cheerleaders were caged in nets and
surrounded by policemen in Khaki and bouncers in black so that no one threw
bottles or anything at them. Only the portion of the “cage”, facing the playing
arena, was not covered with nets to enable the TV cameras film the cheerleaders
dancing for the TV viewers in the rest of the country.
Sreesanth, Chavan and Chandila
are a timely wake-up call. Make a distinction between cricket and
entertainment. As long as you treat cricket as an entertainment and not a
sporting event, such incidents would continue to be repeated. (May 20, 2013)
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