I sometimes wish sport could be explained through theory. Its assumptions listed and consequences predicted. Its processes and flows explained much like a calculus problem with a chalk on a blackboard. But unfortunately, sport does not lend itself to such easy analysis and ‘ceteris paribus’, two words through which economists earn their fame, bread and butter don’t often find mention in a sportsman’s dictionary. Other things do not remain constant in the field of play. The action there is governed more by instinct, the result very often dependent on the call made at the spur of a moment. Too many variables combine to make the applicability of any mathematical model a bit of nightmare. From the vagaries of a cricket pitch to the home and away games in soccer (one would wonder why it would make such a difference, since unlike cricket the playing surface does not change in nature in any way) to the impact of that one critical and match turning line call in tennis and that heartbreaking engine failure in F1 – nothing can be encapsulated by the tightness of any model. In short like life, sport lends itself perfectly to unpredictability.

Disappointingly yet unpredictably India are out cricket’s biggest tournament. And predictably the reactions have been one of outrage. Adjectives have been ascribed to the performance, posters and effigies been burnt and funerals conducted. The competence of those representing the country has been questioned and in what is surely the biggest slur for any sportsman, their commitment to the game doubted. Now if you were a fan of the game and not of victory you would understand what I was talking about in the introductory paragraph. In sport like in life, at times you are bound to lose. And if you are not good enough even bound to lose badly as India did last night. So what are we mourning about? Mourning…it’s a strange word isn’t it? Who died if I may ask? When asked after his team’s defeat to India in that epic series in 2001 whether there was an atmosphere of mourning in the dressing room, the ever practical Steven Waugh replied coolly, “Mourning? It’s just a game mate. No one died out there.” So I ask again, whose last rites am I supposed to attend and whose departure to mourn? The death of over baked and unreasonable expectations? The loss of advertising revenues running into multiple zeroes or of those monies spent on armchair experts mulling over the team’s prospects in television studios?

If your life revolves in the matrix of India and one day cricket, then I guess you are free to go ahead and mourn. But if you follow the game because of your love for it, then I would suggest swallow your pride, accept the defeat gracefully and move on. There is a World Cup going on (and as I write in a possible precursor to the final Australia are matching wits with South Africa) and there are talented sportsmen out on the field plying their wares.

I often believe cricket enjoys that same degree of unreasonable passion in India as soccer does in England. And this I say unflinchingly despite being a die hard fan of both games. The English haven’t come any where close to being the world champions in soccer for more than 40 years and yet before every World Cup the tabloids and the mainstream media would make you believe that title is theirs by right. And with defeat come recrimination and the predictable cycle of coaches and players being sacked. And this concept of passion without knowledge, of love of victory more than the love of the game is something we repeat with alacrity. You have poems sung, albums cut, brands being sold, yagnas performed – all to bring the cup home. And then with defeat you have bonfires and demands for sacking everyone right up to the baggage boy of the team. So why do we treat our sportsmen so shabbily? Why do we subject them to the kind of treatment that we often reserve for our worst politicians? And yet when was the last time you saw a politician’s effigy being burnt? Even Buddhadeb Bhattacharya, the current day prevailing villain has been exempted from that unique humiliation. So what crime are the cricketers guilty of? Killing our dreams? Tarnishing our reputations? Or simply depriving us of an opportunity to rise above our complex of underachievement in life?

But somehow like in life so in sport a reality check is not such a bad thing after all. I hope this reality check wakes India up to some of the worrying questions opened up by their defeat. Questions such as why there appears lethargy among those moving in the field, why running the extra run seems so difficult and why the extra run is given away in the field? No matter how talented you may be, sport at the end of the day is about simplicity. And the more you are good at doing the simple things efficiently, the more successful you shall be. I hope it also brings to light the longer term problems Indian cricket faces – that of the drying supply of quality spinners, of younger batsmen not stepping up and succeeding at the international level, of the puzzling and worrisome decline of Irfan Pathan and most importantly of all where the leader of the next generation of Indian cricketers would come from?
These are tough questions but certainly not equal in magnitude to that calculus problem sketched on the blackboard, and unlike theory sport often throws up its own answers. Someone’s problem is someone’s opportunity. As a good friend of mine bemoaned this morning, champions rise to the occasion. And as I replied to him, what we need right now are not funerals or processions but a few good men who possess that one irritating quality the best student in your class in school displayed so passionately – the ability to raise one’s hand whenever a question was thrown in the air.

|

As a cricket fan the last twenty fours have been completely surreal. Late last night an insipid Indian team huffed and puffed to a humiliating loss to a young Bangladeshi squad. A couple of hours later came an even bigger shocker as Pakistan got knocked of the World Cup by a group of amateurs from Ireland. This piece was originally supposed to celebrate the eccentric nature of the results that the game of cricket often comes to produce. But celebration is probably the last thing on anyone’s mind as news filters in from the Caribbean of the sad, tragic and shocking death of Bob Woolmer, coach of the Pakistan team and unquestionably one of the giants of the modern game. His death is by far surely the biggest tragedy in the history of the tournament.

A man of limited cricketing accomplishments on the field but one of the sharpest brains off it, Woolmer represented the quintessential global cricketer. His Indian connection went all the way to Kanpur – where he was born to English parents in 1948. He went on to play county cricket after his family moved back to England and won nineteen inconspicuous caps for his country. A batsman with limited abilities and a modest test record, Woolmer never really set the field on fire. But till his death, Woolmer probably remained the strongest proof of the argument that a good coach need not necessarily be a great player. His coaching abilities essentially came into limelight during his days at the Warwickshire county team where under his tutelage played two of South Africa’s greats, Allan Donald and Shaun Pollock. As a coach, Woolmer brought a kind of Midas touch and a professional attitude to the teams he coached. Warwickshire were a force on the English county scene when Woolmer coached them and post him they never really did attain those glorious heights.

But Woolmer’s life will always be remembered the most for his tenure as the coach of South Africa. Recently out of isolation due to apartheid, South Africa came out like a breath of fresh air to a cricketing world which in spite of being fully professional still followed an amateurish work ethic in most parts of the world. And nothing typified this approach better than their laptop wielding, theory prophesying, fielding emphasizing coach who would take his squad through innovative field drills and training methods. I still recall watching him gazing over his laptop sitting outside the dressing rooms when South Africa toured India in 1996. And those were days when desktop computers were themselves a rarity in Indian homes and the Windows software was barely a year old. As school kids we often derided this unaccomplished player, forever believing that it was foolish to think that cricket could be played on a laptop screen instead of out on the field. But Bob Woolmer was a man who always saw beyond when it came to cricket. The laptop was followed by the innovation of the ear piece which Hansie Cronje used to communicate with him at the 1999 World Cup. His period as the coach of South Africa will be remembered as the golden era of their cricketing achievements. It saw the coming of age of such greats as Allan Donald, Jonty Rhodes and of course that mercurial captain Hansie Cronje who forged one of the most successful partnerships with his coach. Bob also oversaw the induction of youngsters like Pollock and Jacques Kallis, two players he always believed were destine for greatness. And though South Africa failed in their two World Cup attempts under Woolmer in 1996 and 1999 and always fell one step short of beating Australia, the team of that period unquestionably carried an aura of invincibility around them much the same way as the Aussies do today. Whatever South Africa may have done after him and they might go on to win the current edition of the World Cup, yet they have never again been able to capture that image of solidity that surrounded them with Cronje and Woolmer in command.

And then of course came that stint in Pakistan, a team and a country that many believed would be Woolmer’s biggest challenge. He managed temporarily to bring a semblance of unity in a fractured dressing room, produced results after the morass Pakistan found themselves in when he took over and oversaw the flowering of the likes of Younis Khan and Mohd.Yousuf. But the erratic nature of Pakistan cricket and those who govern it, eventually Woolmer began to show signs of strains. The Oval test fiasco disappointed him no end and then of course the old bogey of dressing room conflicts and biased selections further put pressure on him. Taking a depleted side to the World Cup was always a challenging task and as Pakistan unexpectedly floundered against the West Indies and then against the minnows Ireland, Woolmer fall was complete. His image of shutting down his laptop and packing it in his bag after Ireland had hit the winning runs would probably remain the most ironical snapshot in cricket coaching. It is most tragic of course that it would also remain our last image of one of the greatest thinkers of the game. The laptop coach had shut his system and would not wake up the next morning. Coaches would come and coaches would go but very few will probably have such a impact on the game as Woolmer did. Every time a John Buchanan or a Greg Chappell peers into a laptop screen in the dressing room, it would bring back memories of the man who never became a great player but was undoubtedly the Vince Lombardi of modern day cricket. His death is a tragedy the World Cup and the game of cricket could well have done without.

|