Lounge for 05 Feb 2011

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Saturday, February 5, 2011

Vol. 5 No. 6

LOUNGE THE WEEKEND MAGAZINE

THE

CUP IS HERE

AN UNFINISHED BUSINESS >Page 8

THE YEAR WE HUDDLED

India’s campaign in 2003 ended with a loss in the final, but it laid the foundation for the team’s future success >Page 4

MAKING A PITCH

Three relative newcomers are riding on confidence and a successful 2010 to launch their maiden attempt at the World Cup >Page 10

We revisit glorious moments from the past, meet emerging and established stars for whom this is the year of reckoning, and decode what the ICC World Cup means in a world of quick­fix cricket

HOW WE WON THE WORLD CUP

Former Indian cricketers recall their dogged, driven and utterly improbable 1983 victory >Page 16

DON’T MISS

in today’s edition of

PHOTO ESSAY

BREAKFAST WITH CHAMPS

First published in February 2007 to serve as an unbiased and clear-minded chronicler of the Indian Dream.

LOUNGE EDITOR

PRIYA RAMANI DEPUTY EDITORS

SEEMA CHOWDHRY SANJUKTA SHARMA MINT EDITORIAL LEADERSHIP TEAM

R. SUKUMAR (EDITOR)

NIRANJAN RAJADHYAKSHA (MANAGING EDITOR)

ANIL PADMANABHAN TAMAL BANDYOPADHYAY NABEEL MOHIDEEN MANAS CHAKRAVARTY MONIKA HALAN VENKATESHA BABU SHUCHI BANSAL SIDIN VADUKUT (MANAGING EDITOR, LIVEMINT)

FOUNDING EDITOR RAJU NARISETTI ©2011 HT Media Ltd All Rights Reserved

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SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

BRING BACK THE PASSION

LOUNGE REVIEW | CRICKET POWER

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t an event recently, Kapil Dev was asked this question: What changed for him after India won the World Cup in 1983? Nothing changes overnight, he said, it changes over the years. After 25 years, you realize you have done something, he added.

After 28 years, that moment of Dev lifting the World Cup at Lord’s remains the most defining of all World Cup moments in Indian cricket; they did something. Because India was never expected to win it, the surprise and adulation that followed stayed longer than the disappointment of subsequent World Cups. That was the last time we were underdogs; irrespective of our performances leading up to every other World Cup, we assumed we were in with a chance, only to be disappointed.

Cricket has, of course, changed. Not just with the advent of coloured clothing, use of technology and changed rules but also in the way it is viewed. Today, it’s an advertiser’s delight, a marketing juggernaut, a ‘tamasha’, what have you. The sport has become a business, its heart fitted with a mechanical pacemaker.

In this issue, we not only look back at the joy and heartbreak of the past, but also what we can look forward to—some of the newest members of

the Indian team, and why they will be crucial to India’s campaign. We analyse the favourites from outside the subcontinent in what promises to be the most unpredictable competition in more than a decade. We revisit the moment Eden fell, and how the Kolkata stadium, once one of the pre­eminent cricket venues in the world, has struggled to regain its past stature.

Like every other World Cup, there’s always hope that India will not only win this one, but also bring back some soul and passion to the sport which men like Dev speak of.

If India does win the World Cup, it will also be a lease of life for the One Day format of the game. Since the Indian Premier League (IPL) began in 2008, Twenty20 has been threatening to upstage One Dayers in popularity and relevance. The 1983 victory saw the shorter version of cricket step out of the shadow of Test matches in the subcontinent, and maybe history will repeat itself.

Additionally, this title needs to be for Sachin Tendulkar—as a team and as a nation, we owe him one.

Arun Janardhan and Rudraneil Sengupta Issue editors

inbox

Write to us at lounge@livemint.com ON TRACK I liked Shamanth Rao’s “En route to elsewhere”, 29 January, very much. Personally, I like travelling by train. Unfortunately, few such articles are published these days. Please keep publishing more stories of such journeys. If Rao has more such stories, I urge him to share his memories.

SHASHANK KOTWAL

NOSTALGIA EXPRESS Reading “En route to elsewhere”, 29 January, brought back nostalgia for the numerous train rides we took from Delhi to Hyderabad every summer. The sheer sincerity with which Rao wrote the piece was enough to transport me back to the era of long journeys shared with strangers over oranges at Nagpur, ‘chikki’ at Bhopal and peanuts at Ballarpur. I thank Shamanth Rao for the refreshing read.

PREETI K.S.

GO INDIA This refers to Sanjeeb Mukherjea’s “What is the One Dayer’s future?”, 29 January. With only two weeks left for the ICC World Cup, I am nervous about India’s chances. As one of the hosts, India stand a good chance of making it to the semi­final stage, but the recent track record and memories of the heavy losses in the 2007 World Cup and in the two T20 World Cups give us jitters. In 21 years of Sachin Tendulkar’s illustrious career and in his sixth edition of the World Cup, we expect more and hope he wins the World Cup before he calls it a day. I wish the team success.

C.K. RAMAN

IN FORM I started reading ‘Lounge’ from its inception in 2007 and used to look forward to Saturdays for my fix of impeccably crafted intellectual content. A couple of years later, I lost interest—until now. I am so happy to see the beauty shining yet again. This new format rocks. I don’t know whether I can expect this format every week in the near future, but I am happy that at least once a month, without doubt, I will be looking forward to ‘Lounge’.

Way to go.

ANIRUDH

GLOSSING OVER I look forward to reading ‘Lounge’ every Saturday. Intelligent, informative, unpretentious, hilarious in parts, down to earth and extremely accessible, this paper, along with ‘The Hindu Metro Plus’ and Friday review supplements, completes my “culture fix” for the week. It is for these very reasons that I hate to have its look changed to that of a glossy magazine, which seems cold, snooty and inaccessible.

NALINI

ON THE COVER: PHOTOGRAPHER: BOB THOMAS/AFP CORRECTIONS & CLARIFICATIONS: The 29 January magazine cover photo is by Abhijit Bhatlekar/Mint.

LISTEN TO THE

LOUNGE PODCAST Sarnath Banerjee holds forth on ‘The Harappa Files’; Rudraneil Sengupta on the newest stars of the Indian cricket team; and a review of Shehan Karunatilaka’s cricket fiction ‘Chinaman’.

www.livemint.com/loungepodcast

he official video game of the 2011 World Cup, Cricket Power, is a game only for the keenly determined.

In the 3 hours following our purchase of the game at www.cricketpower.com, we saw nary a hint of gameplay—and one mind-bogglingly irritating installation process after another.

The game had, in the course of an afternoon, left a gruesome trail of crashed computers, cryptic error messages and unresponsive browsers, and a mail trail of bewildered tech support.

The good stuff Here’s how it is supposed to work—you buy the game online for $9.99 (around `455), you’re given a download link to a 100 MB file, you install the game— and Cricket Power runs in your browser via a plug-in.

Each stage in that process is fraught with headaches, and no opportunity is missed to extend the yawning chasm between you and the game.

This is tragic, because the occasional glimpse you do get (before you’re booted out of fun by arbitrary “server errors”) is quite promising—Cricket Power has rumblings of addictive gameplay, some crisp 3D graphics and a decent match engine.

Batting is a slightly convoluted process, but fun once you get the hang of it. The up and down arrows switch between shots, and

there’s a “power meter” that determines how hard you’re hitting the ball.

The graphics and animations are very impressive, and the official licence means you can play with actual player names instead of mangled monstrosities such as Brian Lara Cricket 2007’s infamous “Sachin Tankelki”.

The not­so­good The in-game animations can’t be skipped. There’s only so many times you can watch players go through the same celebratory huddle. All bowlers have a wonderfully exaggerated action, where they don’t so much bowl as hurl the ball at you. The umpire delivers his judgement from somewhere between the pitch and the long-on boundary.

The matches are comically high-scoring and bowling veers between frustrating repetition and the discovery of a “trick” that

skittles out the opposition within two overs.

Cricket Power makes only partial use of the official licence—stadiums aren’t accurately rendered and players look like heavily photoshopped versions of themselves.

Talk plastic Most of the technical problems could just be opening-week hiccups, and one hopes that the developers, Lahore-based Mindstorm Studios, will iron them out soon. The bigger problem is the price. `500 is the price of most full-length PC cricket games, and Cricket Power is missing the breadth of options and multiplayer capabilities those possess.

Cricket Power can be purchased and played at www.cricketpower.com Krish Raghav

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ADRIAN DENNIS/AFP

THE YEAR WE HUDDLED

India’s campaign in 2003 ended with a loss in the final, but it laid the foundation for the team’s future success

Smells Smells like like team team spirit spirit:: The The Indian Indian team team goes goes into into aa huddle huddle to to celebrate celebrate aa wicket wicket during during the the 2003 2003 World World Cup Cup final; final; and and (from (from left) left) Sachin Sachin Tendulkar, Tendulkar, Zaheer Zaheer Khan, Khan, Ashish Ashish Nehra Nehra and and coach coach John John Wright Wright at at aa practice practice session. session.

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or the generation of Indians to whom 1983 is a hand-me-down fairy tale, there is always 2003.

Agreed it is a consolation prize, but a pretty sweet one. Sourav Ganguly’s team had something.

We now regard the side and that campaign with a certain inevitability, but it wasn’t like that at the time. It had been, in fact, a rather worrying lead-up to the World Cup. On the flat pitches at home, the bowlers were swatted about by the West Indians, who registered a 4-3 upset. A little later, in New Zealand, when all the help was for the bowlers, the batsmen couldn’t cope. They were hammered 2-5.

When the team returned home from that series, the last one before the World Cup, the message from the Indian board was clear: Instead of being sent a chauffeur-driven car, then coach John Wright recounts in his lovely memoirs, he had to queue up for a cab at the airport.

Things scarcely got better on reaching South Africa. They had a long camp, but in the warm-up they couldn’t last 50 overs against the third XI of KwaZulu Natal. They lost the game. Their tournament opener was against the Netherlands. They won, but still couldn’t last 50 overs. In their first serious match, the Australian bowlers shot them out for 125 and won with 28 overs to spare.

By now, a great anger had spread among fans back home—those were also angrier years. Apart from the formality of effigies, Mohammad Kaif’s house was vandalized, as was Rahul Dravid’s car. It fell to Sachin Tendulkar to issue a press statement calling for calm and patience, just as he was sent those days to placate the rogue sections when there was crowd trouble at stadiums.

This was the background to India’s World Cup campaign of 2003, which in effect began at Harare against Zimbabwe with Tendulkar’s statement. He also made one with the bat, making 81. And Ganguly, fuelled by that familiar combination of competitiveness and destiny, took three wickets with his first 15 balls to seal the match. Against Namibia a few days later, both of them scored large centuries en route to a thumping victory.

I remember watching this game at the airport in Mumbai. An emergency separation from my appendix had delayed my departure for South Africa.

Watching this old pair was reassuring

SUBHENDU GHOSH/HINDUSTAN TIMES

RAHUL BHATTACHARYA

THE TICKLED SCORER for another reason. Ganguly had dropped himself down to No. 3, from where he would score three centuries in the tournament (all, however, against the “minnows”), but the demotion was more relevant because of Tendulkar’s ascension to the opening slot. Tendulkar batting at the spot of his choice is the best tonic for the Indian One Day team—a lesson that Greg Chappell and Dravid failed to learn for the 2007 World Cup. Durban, where I landed, was base camp for the Indian team, an appropriate one, for as in Trinidad and Guyana, there is plenty of TLC for the cricketers from the local Indian community. Between the South African Indians, the NRI travellers from the US and the UK, and the increasing number of tourists from India, there was enough to match the traditionally huge contingent of English supporters at Kingsmead. Every Barmy Army chant was countered by the British Bharat Army.

India batted first. This was key because unlike in the subcontinent where spinners find it impossible to grip the ball, in South Africa, the seamers are able to zing it off an evening pitch. In these conditions India found their new hero Ashish Nehra, whose spell of six for 23, straight, swift, slippery against England, was so memorable that he would name his dog Durban. His more immediate celebration was to barf a banana on the boundary after bowling 10 on the trot.

This was the win, I think, that turned it around. As the electric evening progressed, you could watch the confidence, battered for the last so many months, visibly restore. India needed it because it was close to the 1st of March: Pakistan at Centurion.

This was before the resumption of bilateral cricket. It had been three years since the last encounter. “For one year, people have been coming up to me and saying, ‘you’re playing Pakistan on

March 1st’,” Tendulkar would say. He did not sleep for 12 nights leading up to the match.

What an innings he played. The signs had all been there. Beyond runs, against England, he’d shown his highest form. He’d sent one pull off Andy Caddick over the stands and on to the road. Now against Pakistan, he confronted not just the moment that had given him sleepless nights, but also a tall total, and Shoaib Akhtar, who in this competition had bowled the fastest ball ever recorded.

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Canada holds the record for the lowest score in a World Cup match, against Sri Lanka in 2003

ANNA ZIEMINSKI/AFP

There isn’t much left to say about the three strokes against Shoaib, but why not give it a go? The iconic six came first, a short and wide delivery which, out of nothing but adrenalin, Tendulkar almost jumped sideways at to tipple it high over wide third man.

The next one, a rapid delivery on middle stump, he countered with a whirlpool swirl, sucking it off its line to a perpendicular boundary. The third was sculpture: He met the ball and blocked it; that’s all, held the follow-through a split second as it raced down the pitch with Shoaib in the dramatic flow of his follow-through, the flags flying, the horns blowing, the roars roaring.

By the time Shoaib had got his own back, with a superb delivery that exploded on to Tendulkar’s ribs, he had hit 98 from 75. Amid a noise shocking for an open ground of only 20,000, Dravid and Yuvraj Singh saw the chase through.

It was a massive release. Songs resounded around the stadium. In the dressing room, the players unusually permitted themselves beers, thereafter placing the cans on the floor, naming them for former players turned television critics, and crushing them underfoot. For the tournament, India had enlisted sports psychologist Sandy Gordon. One of the things Gordon told them, Wright recalls, is that great teams moved into a “f**k you mode” during

competition. I suppose can-stamping came with it. Not exquisite manners, but then for its entire existence, Indian cricket had been criticized for too much manners and too little fire.

The release was also for the ending of the group stage. They had sailed into the Super Six. The harder part began now; but they had a few days to cool off.

I went via several buses to Kimberley, an Afrikaans-speaking diamond town in the heart of the country, to watch West Indies beat Kenya in a small ground on a picnic day before a crowd of schoolchildren.

As World Cups are, it was a tournament of contrasts, small teams and small venues as much a part of it as the epic match-ups in storied stadiums. At dawn, I bummed a ride with the South African journalist Craig Ray across the Great Karoo shimmering with its bare dry heat, and by sundown we were on the Western Cape—Cape Town with its table mountains, its leaves, its blue ocean and its suggestion of hedonism.

At the gorgeous Newlands, India breezed past Kenya.

The action moved back to the east. Here, in successive games, they thumped Sri Lanka and then New Zealand.

A lot of little pieces were falling in place now. Tendulkar apart, Virender Sehwag, Kaif, Dravid and Singh had all

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played decisive innings. More crucial was the hot streak of the seamers.

Following Nehra’s six for 23, Javagal Srinath and Zaheer Khan had decimated the Lankan and New Zealand top orders. Just as Kapil Dev’s quartet of swingers were ideal for English conditions, so India’s hit-the-deck seamers proved to be right for South Africa. Between them, the trio took 49 wickets for 21.

They were fielding well. They were looking fit. There had been no major injuries for a while now. Two years ago, Wright, on a beach run with the team in Durban, had remembered beating most of the players: This time he came last. The pair of physio Andrew Leipus and trainer Adrian le Roux is still considered the best the Indians ever had. A young biomechanist, Shyamal Vallabhjee of Durban, was so appreciated by the team that they chipped in for his accommodation through the tournament.

Success brings feel-good stories, and the media devoted themselves to these. Apparently the team had two bowling captains (Kumble and Srinath), two fielding captains (Kaif and Singh) and two batting captains (Tendulkar and Dravid), and we wrote about this. We wrote about the vital bonding routine which was the bowlers versus batsmen volleyball matches; and the no-less vital bonding routine which was “the huddle”.

Fortune seemed to favour India as well. Thanks to a forfeit and two upsets, their opponents in the semi-final were Kenya. Again bowling second under lights in Durban, they romped home.

After a dismal beginning, thus, India had lined up eight wins on the

Spirited: England’s Alec Stewart walks back after losing his wicket to India’s Ashish Nehra (second from right) in the ICC World Cup 2003 in Durban; and (below) the Australian team poses with the trophy at the Wanderers Stadium in Johannesburg. trot. Having toppled Steve Waugh’s Final Frontiersmen two years ago, Ganguly’s side had the reputation to unnerve the Aussies. Now they also had momentum.

It was a dark, dank morning in Johannesburg. The final was hours away. From the hotel gardens, television correspondents provided live weather updates to an anxious and expectant nation. Already, because of the drizzle, all the talk among journalists was about the toss. Ganguly WILLIAM WEST/AFP

AFP

won it. He inserted Australia. What!

Did he expect India to chase to win a World Cup final?

Looking at it from a cool distance, it perhaps wasn’t all that unjustifiable. It was cloudy, after all; and the seamers were indeed in form. Having batted first against Australia earlier in the tournament had backfired. Even so: Did he expect India to chase to win a World Cup final?

There was plenty of talk about team composition too. Shouldn’t he have

picked two spinners? Spin was the only way; what was Kumble doing on the bench with an extra batsman in the XI? Yet seven batsmen worked well for India. It’s just that we had the wrong one. We didn’t need Dinesh Mongia.

We needed the man they call very, very special, the man who with gentle wrists dissects Australia to expiration. But Laxman was home, never ever to make it to a World Cup squad.

All this is mere talk, the kind that makes cricket go round. The truth was

this: India were spiritedly, infectiously good. Australia were bloody great.

Adam Gilchrist’s opening salvo was a slap. Damien Martyn was a tease. Ricky Ponting was in his pomp. He hit eight sixes. One of those was issued one-handed. Zaheer Khan’s over-aggression backfired; Srinath was violated to the tune of 87 runs. Forget Laxman; Jessop, Bradman and Richards would not have chased down 359 against McGrath and Lee. Amid purple lightning and billowing trees, Ponting’s Australians celebrated their utter supremacy. Ganguly’s team was done for the day. Expat Indians raged and abused. The cricketers quietly boarded the bus and went home. They weren’t, like the boys of 1983, world champions. They did not have the mercurial genius of Imran Khan’s side of 1992, nor the path-breaking ebullience of Arjuna Ranatunga’s 1996 winners. Yet they heralded a new age in Indian cricket, its most successful ever, and they were a pleasure to watch. In the event that the batch of 2011 manages to go one better than them, we might do well to remember from where it started.

Rahul Bhattacharya is the author of the cricket tour book, Pundits from Pakistan, and a debut novel The Sly Company of People Who Care. He writes a monthly cricket column for Lounge.

Write to Rahul at thetickledscorer@livemint.com www.livemint.com Read Rahul’s previous Lounge columns at www.livemint.com/rahul­bhattacharya

L6 COLUMNS

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THE HEROES IN HAVANA HATS I

, the undersigned, wish to tell you, in all earnestness, that I am part of the great unwashed who has little or no interest in this gainly game called cricket. I realize that this puts me in a minority, not just in this nation of one billion, but also in my own home, where family members frequently call each other up from as far away as New Zealand to ask whether “mother and baby are safe”, and also the Test score.

As for me, I am interested in those funny little men in Havana hats who make gestures with their hands.

Occasionally portly, always courteous, they look like English vicars who have stepped off the pages of a Jane Austen or Emily Bronte novel. Umpires, they are called, and the question I put before you is: Are they in danger of becoming obsolete?

Retired umpire Dickie Bird was in the news recently, protesting against the Umpire Decision Review System (UDRS) which he said was “belittling” umpires and stripping them of their powers through the usage of excessive electronic aids and technology.

Electronic aids, according to Bird, should only be used for the close run-out decision, which he admits is a tough call.

In a sense, Bird’s lament is as old as the game itself and it brings to the fore the age-old question that plagues sports, and for that matter, any human endeavour. At what price, progress?

The current avatar of the Olympic

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The late David Shepherd umpired the maximum number of World Cup matches

SHOBA NARAYAN

THE GOOD LIFE Games, for instance, with massive opening ceremonies, electronic replays and steroid-pumped super-athletes, has a tenuous connection—if that—to ancient Greece where the Games originated. Defenders will say that the Olympics remain faithful to their heritage in spirit, if not substance.

Similarly, today’s Wimbledon matches bear no resemblance to their stately past, replete with tea sandwiches, gentlemen in top hats and ladies in tight corsets cheering and waving hankies at the players. Today, Nadal’s grunts, Serena’s screams, Sharapova’s skirts and Connors’ swear words have put paid to any pretence of gentility.

Football, on the other hand, particularly in Africa, has lost the rough and tumble spontaneity of its origins in shantytowns and has turned into a structured, lucrative and competitive juggernaut.

Games change and cricket umpires, like it or not, will have to go along.

Umpiring can be exciting. You only need to hear New Zealander Billy

Bowden, who recently completed 150 One Day Internationals (ODIs), talk about his job to realize that. In media interviews, Bowden said: “Umpiring still gives me a buzz, even goosebumps, when I walk out to officiate an ODI. I have to pinch myself now and again to realize what a privilege it is to be part of such a wonderful game and to have the opportunity to challenge my skills at the international level.”

What is the “buzz” of umpiring? Is it the realization that the fate of the game and its players hangs in the balance of your hands? Or are umpires merely score counters, if that? Are they necessary for cricket in an age when games are getting shorter? And who are the world’s greatest umpires?

The answer to the last question is relatively easy. Most shortlists come up with the same names: Simon Taufel, Aleem Dar, the late David Shepherd, Dickie Bird, Steve Bucknor, Rudi Koertzen and S. Venkataraghavan. It is only when discussions veer towards criteria that things get complicated and the list gets juggled around.

On the face of it, umpiring is about calling the shots, quite literally. The umpire has to make split-second decisions that have to be correct and consistent, thus earning him the respect of the players and the audience. His calls should not falter under the scrutiny of post-play television replays. All this seems easy enough. Then why the fuss about umpires?

To me, the trait that sets apart the great umpires is their ability to stand still and concentrate for hours on end.

It is one thing to run around the field in a testosterone-induced zone. It is quite another to be surrounded by all these macho men and yet retain a Zen-like calm and concentration. Any parent who has umpired a match between screaming 10-year-olds will tell you that this isn’t easy. Real life

JACK ATLEY/BLOOMBERG

umpiring frequently results in a downward spiral where both players and mothers (I mean, umpires) end up yelling at each other. Professional umpires do not have the luxury of falling prey to the shouting and emotions that swirl all around—from the players and from the audience.

To remain sphinx-like amid chaos is the gift of a great umpire.

As for the question about whether umpires will become obsolete, I don’t think Mr Bird has anything to fear. Technology does a lot but it has not and cannot compensate for human judgement. In the past, the criticism against national umpires was that they were naturally biased towards their own teams. Today’s neutral umpires have silenced that criticism. Television replays have only made umpires strive to become better since they are competing against a machine.

Then, of course, there is the decorative factor. If umpires don’t provide a soothing counterpoint to the players, then who will? Certainly not cheerleaders. Cricket is a long way from that, the Indian Premier League notwithstanding.

Shoba Narayan’s vote goes to Simon Taufel. And S. Venkataraghavan.

Write to her at thegoodlife@livemint.com www.livemint.com Read Shoba’s previous Lounge columns at www.livemint.com/shoba­narayan

Buzzed: Umpire Billy Bowden still gets goosebumps while officiating an ODI.

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ROSS KINNAIRD/ALLSPORT/GETTY IMAGES

On fire: Spectators set stands ablaze at Eden Gardens during the 1996 World Cup semi­final.

RETURN TO EDEN

After its ignoble performance in the 1996 World Cup semi­final, Kolkata’s iconic, ‘unpredictable’ cricket stadium is back in the limelight B Y S HAMIK B AG ································· ike many others in Kolkata, ad man Ram Ray sees the Eden Gardens stadium as a metaphor for the city. A packed stadium on a big match day, appreciating every cricketing moment played out on the lush expanse, complements the 65-yearold’s summation of Kolkata itself—big, bright, discerning and reputable.

On 13 March 1996, Ray’s long-held formula for Eden Gardens fell apart as the stadium stared at an Indian defeat. While nearly 100,000 people were bracing for the inevitable prospect of India’s capitulation to Sri Lanka during the first semi-final of the World Cup, a section of the crowd rioted, forcing the match to be abandoned. Sri Lanka were given the game. Ray had by then left the stadium and watched the pitiful episode unfold on television.

To the chairman of advertising agency Response India and foundermember of non-profit society Concern for Calcutta, it was as if the character of the city was at stake and crumbling fast.

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Over the next few days, Ray remembers, Concern for Calcutta placed halfpage advertisements in newspapers with a single word, “Sorry”, printed in 400-point size across the space. The ad, which was also published in a leading Sri Lankan daily, was signed “Calcutta”. “The city was good at watching the game, if not for producing many cricketers. That incident was a jolt. It had to be an apology on behalf of the city,” Ray says.

Fifteen years on, Eden Gardens is dogged by controversy even before a batsman can take guard. The International Cricket Council (ICC) has ruled out an unfit Eden as the venue of the India-England World Cup match on 27 February, further denting the reputation of the Cricket Association of Bengal (CAB).

For now, the ground seems to be stuck in a wedge between its illustrious past and the demands of the future. Eden hosted the first World Cup final in 1987 outside of Lord’s in London; it witnessed the historic V.V.S. Laxman- and Rahul Dravidsteered Test victory over Australia in 2000-01, and post-apartheid

South Africa’s first international match in 1991.

Had the arena been ready to host the India-England match, a renovated Eden Gardens could have presented to the world an altogether fresh sight—colourful bucket seats, refurbished players’ dressing rooms and floodlights, a new facade, food courts, corporate boxes and a media centre, among other changes.

All of these, says author and cricket historian Boria Majumdar, would have turned the 1864-established stadium, which saw its first Test being played in 1934, into one of the best sporting arenas in the world. ESPN Cricinfo notes that despite the current fiasco, Eden Gardens remains, along with the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG), cricket’s answer to the Colosseum.

If the ICC ground inspectors allow Eden its March World Cup matches (South Africa vs Ireland, The Netherlands vs Ireland and Kenya vs Zimbabwe), the world may still be able to see the change.

CAB has often been criticized for being indifferent to spectator comfort at Eden. The seating capacity was INDRANIL BHOUMIK/MINT

Makeover: Eden Gardens is scrambling to retain 2011 World Cup matches after missing renovation deadlines.

84,000, but it was common knowledge that tickets were usually oversold. CAB joint secretary Biswarup Dey says the renovated stadium will seat approximately 63,000.

In fact, overcrowding was said to be the reason for violence during the India vs West Indies Test match during the 1966-67 tour, when valid ticket holders spilled on to the ground and disrupted the match. It was one of the many occasions when Eden erupted in protest against a perceived wrong.

Another notable example was a 1999 Test match when Pakistani pacer Shoaib Akhtar collided with Indian batsman Sachin Tendulkar, leading to the latter’s eventual run-out. The crowd sensed mischief on Akhtar’s part. Riots ensued, the stadium was emptied forcibly and the match continued before vacant stands. On another occasion, Indian captain Sunil Gavaskar was targeted with orange peels for dropping the crowd’s favourite, Kapil Dev, from the Indian side against England in 1984.

But Eden Gardens continues to have staunch supporters. “A cricket ground can’t be judged from a few incidents,” says veteran cricket commentator and columnist Kishore Bhimani. Majumdar says the “early days of globalization at Eden”, when overpriced Pepsi and Coke bottles were allowed inside (often as a substitute for inadequate drinking water), are over. “In all of India, the Eden crowd is the most ardent. It has been their USP as well as a drawback,” he says.

Bhimani points to incidents of crowd violence in Port of Spain, Guyana (both in the West Indies), Sydney (Australia), Karachi (Pakistan) and Mumbai, among other venues. “One has to look at the big picture, where a ground should be understood through its outfield, pitch, its history, cricket-understanding crowd and picturesque qualities. For me, Eden is still probably the world’s best cricket stadium,” he says.

“The decibels will go down surely.

But overall, the environment should remain the same,” predicts Deep Dasgupta, a Kolkata-based wicketkeeper and batsman who made his Test and One Day International debut in 2001.

Having played much of his cricket in Delhi, Dasgupta remembers the day he first walked into Eden Gardens as a player in 1995. “The stadium has this

12

Most matches hosted by a ground: Headingley, Leeds

JOHN SEB BARBER

tremendous aura, backed by history.

You are overwhelmed by the sheer size of everything. It was like walking into a temple.”

It can be reasonably said that cricket will miss Eden as much as Eden will miss the game.

Biren Mitra, former CAB vice-president and an Eden old-timer, goes back to the days when wooden galleries used to be hired during big matches and makeshift huts for spectators used to flank the ground. The first game the 77-year-old remembers watching at Eden was the IndiaWest Indies Test in 1948, and he has lived through Eden’s many milestones—the construction of permanent concrete galleries, the installation of the giant, manually operated backlit scoreboard, followed by the electronic scoreboard, the advent of live television coverage, face painting, the demands of influential businessmen and chest-thumping jingoism. Yet one aspect of Eden Gardens remains endearingly unchanged for him: “Kolkata is a volatile city and it is manifested in the stadium. While the emotional crowd can occasionally go berserk, they have really appreciated good cricket all along.

Like the game, Eden Gardens too is a little unpredictable.”

Even as he speaks, work is on to get the stadium match-ready before the next round of ICC inspection. Amid the din, dust and controversies, the manually operated scoreboard, operated from inside a wooden box near the boundary line, stands out like a cello in a concert of loud electronic music. The late-afternoon river breeze—often the reason behind the swinging ball at Eden—keeps the score wheels inside the wooden box moving. In this vast theatre of change, the manual scoreboard is small and insignificant. It has survived the rise and fall of Eden.

Write to lounge@livemint.com

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SANTOSH HARHARE/HINDUSTAN TIMES

AN UNFINISHED BUSINESS

Tendulkar has survived generations, reinvented himself and broken all records. But the final chapter to his saga remains: the World Cup title B Y D ILEEP P REMACHANDRAN ····························· dysseus left to fight the Trojan War when he was a young man. By the time he thought of the wooden horse that allowed the Greeks to win the war, it had been 10 years. It took him another decade—full of the adventures, examinations and travails that Homer writes of in the Odyssey—to return home to Ithaca.

By the time Sachin Tendulkar steps on to the turf at the Sher-e-Bangla Stadium in Mirpur, Bangladesh, on 19 February, his quest for World Cup glory will have lasted nearly 19 years. He was still a teenager when he faced England at Perth in 1992. A month earlier, he had scored a dazzling century there against a formidable Australian Test attack and his first bow at the World Cup was an assured 35. But Ian Botham had him caught behind and India’s pursuit of victory unravelled. It was a pattern that would repeat itself throughout a dismal campaign as an Indian team enervated by a long tour failed to find a strategy that could best exploit the young man’s undoubted potential.

Even those who glimpsed his quality all those years ago—when Michael Jordan was still the world’s pre-eminent sportsman and Imran Khan and his “cornered tigers” did Asia proud—would have struggled to predict that he would still be around two decades later, keen as ever and with skills and temperament yet to be corroded by the passage of time.

Back then, we were speculating as to how great he could be.

O

These days, we struggle to make sense of what he has become. In those days, five One Day centuries made you a great player. Scoring 20 would have been like walking on the moon.

Scoring 46, as Tendulkar has done while severely rationing his appearances over the last couple of seasons, begs belief.

In recent times, his priority has clearly been the Test arena, where his renaissance is as startling as the work that a middle-aged Paul Gauguin produced after running off to the South Seas. Despite that, there was never a smidgen of doubt that he would be back for the World Cup. Like a canny old marathoner pacing himself for the final burst into the stadium, he has never lost sight of the final on home soil in Mumbai on 2 April. For a One Day career without parallel, it would be the perfect bookend.

Kapil Dev was one of his teammates in that first World Cup game, and it’s impossible to overstate just what the 1983 success meant to those of Tendulkar’s generation. If it was the abduction of Helen that sent the Greeks to war, it was Kapil lifting the trophy after the giant-killing of the West Indies that gave birth to a million cricket dreams.

“I was inspired to take up playing the game with the hard

ball after the 1983 World Cup victory,” said Tendulkar at a function in Mumbai a couple of years ago. “Had it not happened, things could have been different for me. I have fond memories of that victory. I was just 10 years old when they won the World Cup and I did not even know at that time there were 11 players in the team. It was truly an incredible experience. That generation of cricketers was instrumental in inspiring youngsters to take up cricket.”

As the years have passed, inspiration has also become burden. England’s footballers forever get compared to the boys of 1966. Each time India approach a World Cup, talk turns to Kapil’s Devils and the halcyon summer of 1983. As Coleridge wrote in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner: “Instead of the cross, the Albatross about my neck was hung.”

Indian cricket’s golden generation could never shake it off. Anil Kumble was the leading wicket-taker in 1996 when India went out in the semi-final, and a frustrated watcher from the bench as

Australia romped home in the final seven years later. V.V.S. Laxman was so upset by his exclusion from the 2003 squad that he took off to visit old friends in the US. Sourav Ganguly took India as far as the summit clash in 2003, but was part of the shambles that was the Indian shipwreck in the Caribbean four years ago. As for Rahul Dravid, Tendulkar’s partner in a memorable partnership at Taunton, UK, in 1999, he wasn’t even given a proper One Day farewell.

Four giants for whom the World Cup means only the strains of Ghalib’s Yeh na thi hamari kismat (it wasn’t meant to be).

Only Tendulkar remains, the boy-man who has outlasted them all, whose capacity to reinvent his game subtly has seen him through Power Plays, free hits and fielding restrictions.

The greatest of careers too needs a Eureka moment. For Tendulkar, it came at Eden Park in Auckland 17 years ago. Navjot Singh Sidhu was suffering from a stiff neck, and the 21-year-old who had just been appointed vice-captain went to see his leader and coach. “I asked Azhar (Mohammed Azharuddin) and Ajit Wadekar to give me one chance to open,” he says. “Then I would not ask them again if I failed.”

He didn’t, scoring a stunning 82 from 49 balls. With a few exceptions here and there, he has stayed at the top of the order since, smashing Shoaib Akhtar for six at Centurion, taking Glenn McGrath to task in Nairobi and slamming the first-ever double-century in the format against South Africa last year.

Along the way, he has finished top scorer in two World Cups, 1996 and 2003, and been the focal point of all Indian hope. Apart from maybe Zinedine Zidane in the French football team of the last decade, no one individual has become so totemic. What’s more, he’s handled the pressure with grace. Zidane had his head-butt, and Mike Tyson his bitten ears. Tendulkar has stayed serene.

Aldous Huxley once suggested that we make the ceiling of yesterday’s desire the floor of today’s expectations. For Indian cricket’s Peter Pan, the ceiling was always sky-high, and it’s testament to his greatness that he stayed so grounded while reaching for it.

Now, one final chapter remains in his odyssey.

Dileep Premachandran is associate editor, Wisden International.

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2,000

One last chance: Sachin Tendulkar celebrates his century in the fifth ODI against Australia in Hyderabad in 2009.

The aggregate number of World Cup runs Sachin Tendulkar (currently with 1,796 from 36 matches at an average of 57.93) and Ricky Ponting (1,537 from 39 at 48.03) can reach in the 2011 edition

HINDUSTAN TIMES

REALITY CHECK L9 SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

WHEN MORE EQUALS LESS An increasing number of cricket matches every season, peaking with this year, may lead to declining viewer interest B Y R AVI K RISHNAN & A NUSHREE C HANDRAN ································· n the last match of the recently concluded One Day International (ODI) series between South Africa and India, Yusuf Pathan scored a century off 68 balls. Some called it one of the best ever One Day innings by an Indian batsman. One shot stood out—Pathan falling over while sweeping past short fine leg to reach 96. What about the rest of the strokes? The picture is hazy now.

After the century he scored for the Rajasthan Royals against Mumbai Indians in the 2010 edition of the Indian Premier League (or was it IPL 2009?), Shane Warne, his captain and marketeer extraordinaire, described it as the best innings he had ever seen. Does one remember a single shot?

Unlikely.

A probable reason could be an

I

overload of cricket, match after match looking alike, going the same way with a bunch of helmeted warriors cross swatting the ball off the ground on flat batting tracks. It’s a marked difference from the time—even a decade ago— when cricket matches were less frequent and, as a consequence, much awaited. They were special events that came rarely. One made plans with family and friends, with parties centred round the game, to watch them somewhere special or even (let’s go back a long way) surrounding the 14-inch black and white screen at the neighbour’s.

No, one did not have to check which channel it was on.

That charm seems to be lost, fed as we are on a regular diet of irrelevant matches and meaningless series. So much so that even events such as the World Cup (starting 19 February in India, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh) fail to spark the enthuMATTHEW ARMSTRONG

siasm which TV channels and advertisers try so hard to make us believe exists.

The World Cup has 49 matches spread over 43 days. That’s 8 hours of cricket daily over a month—a tad less than the 51 matches played over 47 days in the 2007 World Cup in the West Indies. No sooner does it end, that the IPL begins. With 10 teams playing 74 matches over 51 days, that’s another 222 hours of cricket.

According to data from media tracker TAM, the ICC World T20 in April–May saw a cumulative audience of 102 million, a 40% drop from the millions who watched the IPL a few days earlier. Even IPL ratings dropped after the first season, once the novelty of the new format and glitzy entertainment wore off.

According to a study by another media tracker, Mediaedge, television ratings for IPL 3 dropped to 5.4 from 5.7 in the first edition. A fourth of the viewers who saw fewer IPL matches in the third edition said “it was due to fatigue”, the media agency notes.

“Cricket is No. 1 but there is also a viewer fatigue that is clearly settling in,” Sunder Aaron, channel head for Sony PIX, told news agency Reuters in a 15 December interview. “If you remove the topshelf properties like IPL and you look at the average cricket ratings through the year, you see a steady decline (in viewership).” But then, Aaron was speaking just after his channel signed a contract with the US National Basketball Association (NBA) to telecast their matches locally.

Yet the cricket fan inside us is always optimistic, ever hopeful of watching that one glorious shot, or a sparkling innings in tough conditions, or an unplayable delivery.

“Yes, saturation point (in viewing cricket) has been reached,” says

18

The number of One Day Internationals played before the 1975 World Cup

VIPIN KUMAR/HINDUSTAN TIMES

Suresh Saraiya, veteran cricket commentator, who has covered matches for four decades. “But the temptation is always there.”

“Players too lack the motivation to work hard sometimes, and with so much cricket played, the game has suffered,” says Dilip Vengsarkar, part of the 1983 World Cup winning squad and a former captain and chairman of selectors.

But the perception, accurate or not, that cricket fans—like a smoker addicted to nicotine—will only ask for more, means an increasing number of games are scheduled in a seemingly reckless manner. Take India’s case. A month or so after the IPL, the team leaves for the West Indies to play a T20 international, five ODIs and three Tests. Ten days after the last Test, they will play their first Test against England at Lord’s. Starting with Africa in January, the Indian team will have played in five continents over the year by the end-ofthe-year series against Australia in that country.

It is the same perception that sees media buyers—those who purchase advertisement spots on TV

channels—willing to pay astronomical prices. Commercial spot rates are climbing ever higher, and that is not only a factor of inflation.

According to media buyers, in the third season of the IPL, advertisement rates were `4.5 lakh for 10 seconds, some 200% more than the first edition. The fourth season of the IPL is priced at `5.5 lakh for 10 seconds.

“It does seem like an overkill of cricket, but apparently there‘s enough gold out there and the goose is never killed,” says Sam Balsara, chairman and managing director, Madison Group, which works in communications.

Nandini Dias, chief operating officer of media buying agency Lodestar UM, says a few years ago, 30-35 programmes had television ratings of more than 1; now there are only 20-25 programmes that deliver the same rating.

“The same is true for cricket,” she says. “Every year, ratings come down by 6-7% but that’s because of the increasing number of channels and programmes (fragmentation) than of people watching lesser television or sports.” Reach (the number of people who have access to a match on TV) continues to be high, she says. Ratings, unlike reach, are not absolute numbers. They are a function of the people who’ve watched a match, and the time they spent viewing it.

Perhaps the last word should go to the pragmatic Mohinder Amarnath, who made umpteen comebacks to the Indian Test team in the 1980s and was the man of the match in the 1983 World Cup final that India won. “As cricketers, we love to play and in India, we love to watch it. Times change and we have to live with it.” ravi.k@livemint.com KASHIF MASOOD/HINDUSTAN TIMES

Hysteria: (above) A Sri Lanka versus Australia match on the big screen; and an IPL match in progress between Royal Challengers Bangalore and Kolkata Knight Riders in Bangalore in 2010.

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THE WORLD CUP ISSUE

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STRONG PITCH Three relative newcomers, Virat Kohli, Yusuf Pathan and R Ashwin, are riding on confidence and a successful 2010 to launch their maiden attempt at this month’s ICC World Cup

YUSUF:

THE PLUNDERING PATHAN

B Y R UDRANEIL S ENGUPTA rudraneil.s@livemint.com

······················································ hen the Indian team for the World Cup goes into the final stage of preparation at a camp at the National Cricket Academy in Bangalore, coach Gary Kirsten will probably have the most promising squad since the 2003 World Cup. The core of the team revolves around seasoned veterans—Sachin Tendulkar, Virender Sehwag, M.S. Dhoni, Yuvraj Singh and Harbhajan Singh. But what is perhaps more heartening is the rise of the new crop of talent which has walked into the team with a series of consistent performances. Virat Kohli, Yusuf Pathan and R. Ashwin have raised hopes of a first World Cup victory at home by proving their on-field potential, and finishing 2010 on a high.

W

GROWING IN STRENGTH In December 2009, just over a year after Kohli made his debut, he forged a 62-run partnership with Tendulkar in a One Day International (ODI) against Sri Lanka, scoring 54.

When he walked back to the dressing room, a strange feeling of elation enveloped him.

“It was a partnership with Sachin Tendulkar!” says the 22-year-old. “I’ve been watching him play ever since I remember. I sat down in the dressing room and felt on top of the world. It was an indescribable high. I sat there for a long time, just soaking in the moment.”

Kohli continued on the high note in 2010, and finished the year as India’s top ODI scorer with 995 runs at an average of 47.38.

In just his third season in international cricket, Kohli was also the second highest run scorer in ODIs in 2010, behind South Africa’s Hashim Amla.

“I did not expect the year to turn out like this,” Kohli says. “My biggest improvement this year was learning to be patient at the start of the innings, getting set without being nervous or anxious to start scoring, and believing in my ability to make up for it later on.”

Kohli’s brief stint with the Indian team highlights his mature handling of the middle overs, coming in at No. 3 or 4, scoring at almost six runs an over, rotating the strike, and converting his starts to fifties and hundreds. Even more interesting is his ability to play under pressure—in the 23 innings he has played batting second in a match, Kohli averages 60.35, at a strike rate of almost 84.

“I like to feel a bit of pressure when I go in to bat because that helps me concentrate more,” Kohli says. In 2009, his 107, coming in after India were down 23 for 2, helped chase a Sri Lankan target of 316. In 2010, he scored 118 to chase down Australia’s 290 in Visakhapatnam. “The most pressure-cooker innings I’ve played so far. It was thrilling.”

This ability to operate under pressure reveals a steely side that the young Kohli hides behind a flippant smile. In 2006, Kohli was battling for Delhi in the Ranji Trophy against Karnataka. At the end of the day’s play, he was unbeaten on 40.

Early next morning, his father Prem Kohli

died of a heart attack.

Despite the personal blow, Kohli turned up for the match.

“My father would have always wanted me to play,” Kohli says. “My brother told me that morning that if I wanted to play, then I should, and return to attend the funeral afterwards.

Cricket comes above everything.”

Kohli scored 90 before getting out at around noon. At 3.30pm, he attended his father’s cremation.

It was Kohli’s father who helped him take his first step in organized cricket, bringing him a form to enrol at the West Delhi Cricket Academy when Kohli was eight years old. “I was overjoyed that day. I loved every minute I spent in the nets when I joined the academy,” he remembers.

Kohli returned to his roots when he faced his biggest crisis, soon after a poor first campaign with Indian Premier League (IPL) team Bangalore Royal Challengers in 2008, and an average debut for India.

Kohli’s off-field persona was perceived as brash and disrespectful, and his love for partying was seen in poor light for an upcoming cricketer. An onfield dressing down from Bangalore teammate Kevin Pietersen followed a mix-up that resulted in a run-out in 2009. An ugly spat with photographers the same year during an ODI in India only reinforced that belief. “Yes, I made mistakes,” Kohli admits. “But I am happy that I was not scared to admit it. I was left in a situation where I had to choose—either keep ignoring people, and go on behaving the way I did, or improve myself.”

Kohli went back to his childhood coach Raj Kumar Sharma at the West Delhi Cricket Academy, and got a serious dressing down.

“What helped me was my coach, family and teammates believed in my ability,” Kohli says, “and they told me not to let that go. I started changing my attitude, and spending a lot more time on the field and in the nets. I haven’t been to a party in almost two years now.”

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MAKING A

KOHLI:

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Keep a watch: (from left) Kohli, Pathan and Ashwin.

PHOTOGRAPHS

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THEMBA HADEBE/AP

Pathan began and ended 2010 with two displays of equal savagery and cunning. The first was a 37-ball century for his IPL team Rajasthan Royals against the Mumbai Indians in April, and the other his maiden ODI century, against New Zealand in Bangalore in December.

While the IPL knock was eye-popping for its frenzied violence, the ODI 100 was perfectly timed—when his place in the team was under scrutiny, and his batting skills against fast bowling and short balls, suspect.

He had been dropped after a string of unimpressive scores batting at No. 7, and had spent much of 2010 playing domestic cricket. His inclusion against New Zealand was a final chance for Pathan to stake his claim to India’s World Cup squad.

He made it count. Pathan’s unbeaten 123 (96 balls) was as measured and patient against the yorkers and short balls as it was brutal and dismissive with the loose balls.

“I’ve grabbed whatever chances came my way, and also everyone in the Indian team believed in my ability to play against good bowling,” says Pathan. “That faith meant a lot to me, it gave me the freedom to play my game without worrying.” He believes it validated his self-confidence.

Pathan continued in that vein during India’s tour to South Africa in January, against one of the world’s best fast bowling attacks on bouncy pitches. He scored a match-winning 59 in the third ODI in Cape Town, and then in the fifth in Centurion, he walked in with India at 60 for 5 chasing South Africa’s 250. Though India lost the game, Pathan scored 105 off 70 balls.

“I’ve never doubted my own abilities to play against the best bowling,” Pathan says. “When I walk in to bat, I always believe I can win a match from any situation.”

It was this confidence that paved the way for his return to the Indian team after he was dropped in June following a poor show in India’s tour of Zimbabwe.

Pathan went back to the domestic circuit, scoring 295 runs and picking up 14 wickets in three Ranji Trophy matches before playing a devastating 190-ball 210 in the Duleep Trophy final for West Zone, to overhaul South Zone’s 535, the biggest successful run chase in all First Class cricket.

“It was a dream innings for me,” Pathan says. “A turning point of sorts. It finally changed the perception that I was just a pinch hitter or a T20 player. Though at no point was I thinking of making it back to the Indian team, or feeling bad about being dropped.

These things happen in any sport. I was just enjoying batting in domestic cricket as much as I enjoy batting for India.”

Pathan, who grew up playing cricket with his younger half-brother Irfan outside the mosque in Vadodara where their father is an imam, had to go through a long grind in the domestic circuit before finding a regular place in the Baroda squad in 2004. By then, Irfan was already playing for India. By 2008, Irfan was out of favour, and the older Pathan was making his debut.

Pathan got his first taste of fame with Shane Warne’s Rajasthan Royals in their victorious IPL campaign of 2008. “I was lucky to have been in that team with Warne,” he says. “He created a great fun place to be in, and till the last ball is bowled, no matter how bad the situation, he would be trying to pull something off. I learnt to be focused like that from him, to never give up.”

Most appearances in World Cups: Glenn McGrath and Ricky Ponting

ASHWIN:

WAITING FOR HIS TURN On 18 September, IPL team Chennai Super Kings (CSK) was tied with Australian side Victoria Bushrangers in a Champions League T20 match. CSK captain Dhoni handed the ball to rookie spinner Ashwin for the single over that was to decide the outcome of the match—the super over.

Dhoni’s confidence in Ashwin, backfired. The tall off-spinner was carted for 23 runs in that over, handing the match to Victoria. At the end of the over, Ashwin was on his knees, head bowed, as his teammates walked past him offering consolatory pats on the back.

Surprising then that Ashwin picks this incident as the best moment of his just-over-a-year-old international career.

“It is the biggest lesson I learnt from one over,” says Ashwin. “It taught me to put up my hand and volunteer for the hardest thing without thinking of the consequences. I realized that I was prepared to get hit, and to take a fall. I was prepared to lose some to win many.”

It was a lesson well learnt. Ashwin finished as the best bowler of the tournament, with 13 wickets from six matches to spearhead CSK’s victorious campaign.

Four months earlier, Ashwin was making his first consistent run with CSK since he joined the team in its inaugural year in 2008.

In a team boasting of the Sri Lankan offspinner Muttiah Muralitharan, the highest wicket-taker in both Tests and ODIs, Ashwin was not only picking up more wickets, but was also proving to be the more economical bowler of the two. Bowling with a bare run-up and a high arm action, Ashwin kept his focus on cramping batsmen with tight control. When the batsmen got impatient, he would rip off-breaks across at varying pace and turn, sneak in the “carrom ball” (a delivery using the thumb and the middle finger to flick the ball, and used only

by Sri Lankan Ajantha Mendis and Ashwin in international cricket), and manipulate the batsman to play a rash shot. He was the go-to man for Dhoni, taking up the challenge of opening the bowling, and operating in the power plays and slog overs.

“Like any other spinner, I like the old ball,” Ashwin says, “because it just sits in your hand better, and you can get more revolutions. But the truth is that I’m up for any challenge—new ball, slog over, power play...”

“This IPL exercise and the T20 format has done a lot for me as a cricketer, and made me more mature,” the engineer from Chennai says. “I got the chance to work with Muralitharan, to see how excited he was preparing for every game. He was like a child at practice. He never thought twice about his success, but was always harsh about his failures. I absorbed all these mental aspects.”

Ashwin’s breakthrough year was fuelled by his long wait on the sidelines for CSK, where he spent most of the first two seasons.

“I don’t enjoy sitting and clapping for other people if I’m not on the field. So I was constantly trying to pinch for a place in the side, constantly pushing myself harder at practice.”

Ashwin’s IPL exploits inevitably led to a call to the national side, where he picked up 11 wickets at an average of 21.9 in a five-match ODI series at home against New Zealand in November and December.

Unlike Kohli and Pathan, Ashwin’s place in the playing eleven for the World Cup is far from assured, since Harbhajan Singh will be the first choice spinner for India.

“Of course, it’s my dream to win a World Cup. But I’m not even sure of a place in the team,” Ashwin says. “But if someone told me I have to compete against the world’s best and come up with a fantastic performance, I’ll probably back myself. Whether I can actually pull it off or not is another issue, but I have the confidence to try.

Maybe it’s a bit of madness, but that’s how I am.”

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THE WORLD CUP ISSUE

THE WORLD CUP ISSUE

39

STRONG PITCH Three relative newcomers, Virat Kohli, Yusuf Pathan and R Ashwin, are riding on confidence and a successful 2010 to launch their maiden attempt at this month’s ICC World Cup

YUSUF:

THE PLUNDERING PATHAN

B Y R UDRANEIL S ENGUPTA rudraneil.s@livemint.com

······················································ hen the Indian team for the World Cup goes into the final stage of preparation at a camp at the National Cricket Academy in Bangalore, coach Gary Kirsten will probably have the most promising squad since the 2003 World Cup. The core of the team revolves around seasoned veterans—Sachin Tendulkar, Virender Sehwag, M.S. Dhoni, Yuvraj Singh and Harbhajan Singh. But what is perhaps more heartening is the rise of the new crop of talent which has walked into the team with a series of consistent performances. Virat Kohli, Yusuf Pathan and R. Ashwin have raised hopes of a first World Cup victory at home by proving their on-field potential, and finishing 2010 on a high.

W

GROWING IN STRENGTH In December 2009, just over a year after Kohli made his debut, he forged a 62-run partnership with Tendulkar in a One Day International (ODI) against Sri Lanka, scoring 54.

When he walked back to the dressing room, a strange feeling of elation enveloped him.

“It was a partnership with Sachin Tendulkar!” says the 22-year-old. “I’ve been watching him play ever since I remember. I sat down in the dressing room and felt on top of the world. It was an indescribable high. I sat there for a long time, just soaking in the moment.”

Kohli continued on the high note in 2010, and finished the year as India’s top ODI scorer with 995 runs at an average of 47.38.

In just his third season in international cricket, Kohli was also the second highest run scorer in ODIs in 2010, behind South Africa’s Hashim Amla.

“I did not expect the year to turn out like this,” Kohli says. “My biggest improvement this year was learning to be patient at the start of the innings, getting set without being nervous or anxious to start scoring, and believing in my ability to make up for it later on.”

Kohli’s brief stint with the Indian team highlights his mature handling of the middle overs, coming in at No. 3 or 4, scoring at almost six runs an over, rotating the strike, and converting his starts to fifties and hundreds. Even more interesting is his ability to play under pressure—in the 23 innings he has played batting second in a match, Kohli averages 60.35, at a strike rate of almost 84.

“I like to feel a bit of pressure when I go in to bat because that helps me concentrate more,” Kohli says. In 2009, his 107, coming in after India were down 23 for 2, helped chase a Sri Lankan target of 316. In 2010, he scored 118 to chase down Australia’s 290 in Visakhapatnam. “The most pressure-cooker innings I’ve played so far. It was thrilling.”

This ability to operate under pressure reveals a steely side that the young Kohli hides behind a flippant smile. In 2006, Kohli was battling for Delhi in the Ranji Trophy against Karnataka. At the end of the day’s play, he was unbeaten on 40.

Early next morning, his father Prem Kohli

died of a heart attack.

Despite the personal blow, Kohli turned up for the match.

“My father would have always wanted me to play,” Kohli says. “My brother told me that morning that if I wanted to play, then I should, and return to attend the funeral afterwards.

Cricket comes above everything.”

Kohli scored 90 before getting out at around noon. At 3.30pm, he attended his father’s cremation.

It was Kohli’s father who helped him take his first step in organized cricket, bringing him a form to enrol at the West Delhi Cricket Academy when Kohli was eight years old. “I was overjoyed that day. I loved every minute I spent in the nets when I joined the academy,” he remembers.

Kohli returned to his roots when he faced his biggest crisis, soon after a poor first campaign with Indian Premier League (IPL) team Bangalore Royal Challengers in 2008, and an average debut for India.

Kohli’s off-field persona was perceived as brash and disrespectful, and his love for partying was seen in poor light for an upcoming cricketer. An onfield dressing down from Bangalore teammate Kevin Pietersen followed a mix-up that resulted in a run-out in 2009. An ugly spat with photographers the same year during an ODI in India only reinforced that belief. “Yes, I made mistakes,” Kohli admits. “But I am happy that I was not scared to admit it. I was left in a situation where I had to choose—either keep ignoring people, and go on behaving the way I did, or improve myself.”

Kohli went back to his childhood coach Raj Kumar Sharma at the West Delhi Cricket Academy, and got a serious dressing down.

“What helped me was my coach, family and teammates believed in my ability,” Kohli says, “and they told me not to let that go. I started changing my attitude, and spending a lot more time on the field and in the nets. I haven’t been to a party in almost two years now.”

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

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MAKING A

KOHLI:

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Keep a watch: (from left) Kohli, Pathan and Ashwin.

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Pathan began and ended 2010 with two displays of equal savagery and cunning. The first was a 37-ball century for his IPL team Rajasthan Royals against the Mumbai Indians in April, and the other his maiden ODI century, against New Zealand in Bangalore in December.

While the IPL knock was eye-popping for its frenzied violence, the ODI 100 was perfectly timed—when his place in the team was under scrutiny, and his batting skills against fast bowling and short balls, suspect.

He had been dropped after a string of unimpressive scores batting at No. 7, and had spent much of 2010 playing domestic cricket. His inclusion against New Zealand was a final chance for Pathan to stake his claim to India’s World Cup squad.

He made it count. Pathan’s unbeaten 123 (96 balls) was as measured and patient against the yorkers and short balls as it was brutal and dismissive with the loose balls.

“I’ve grabbed whatever chances came my way, and also everyone in the Indian team believed in my ability to play against good bowling,” says Pathan. “That faith meant a lot to me, it gave me the freedom to play my game without worrying.” He believes it validated his self-confidence.

Pathan continued in that vein during India’s tour to South Africa in January, against one of the world’s best fast bowling attacks on bouncy pitches. He scored a match-winning 59 in the third ODI in Cape Town, and then in the fifth in Centurion, he walked in with India at 60 for 5 chasing South Africa’s 250. Though India lost the game, Pathan scored 105 off 70 balls.

“I’ve never doubted my own abilities to play against the best bowling,” Pathan says. “When I walk in to bat, I always believe I can win a match from any situation.”

It was this confidence that paved the way for his return to the Indian team after he was dropped in June following a poor show in India’s tour of Zimbabwe.

Pathan went back to the domestic circuit, scoring 295 runs and picking up 14 wickets in three Ranji Trophy matches before playing a devastating 190-ball 210 in the Duleep Trophy final for West Zone, to overhaul South Zone’s 535, the biggest successful run chase in all First Class cricket.

“It was a dream innings for me,” Pathan says. “A turning point of sorts. It finally changed the perception that I was just a pinch hitter or a T20 player. Though at no point was I thinking of making it back to the Indian team, or feeling bad about being dropped.

These things happen in any sport. I was just enjoying batting in domestic cricket as much as I enjoy batting for India.”

Pathan, who grew up playing cricket with his younger half-brother Irfan outside the mosque in Vadodara where their father is an imam, had to go through a long grind in the domestic circuit before finding a regular place in the Baroda squad in 2004. By then, Irfan was already playing for India. By 2008, Irfan was out of favour, and the older Pathan was making his debut.

Pathan got his first taste of fame with Shane Warne’s Rajasthan Royals in their victorious IPL campaign of 2008. “I was lucky to have been in that team with Warne,” he says. “He created a great fun place to be in, and till the last ball is bowled, no matter how bad the situation, he would be trying to pull something off. I learnt to be focused like that from him, to never give up.”

Most appearances in World Cups: Glenn McGrath and Ricky Ponting

ASHWIN:

WAITING FOR HIS TURN On 18 September, IPL team Chennai Super Kings (CSK) was tied with Australian side Victoria Bushrangers in a Champions League T20 match. CSK captain Dhoni handed the ball to rookie spinner Ashwin for the single over that was to decide the outcome of the match—the super over.

Dhoni’s confidence in Ashwin, backfired. The tall off-spinner was carted for 23 runs in that over, handing the match to Victoria. At the end of the over, Ashwin was on his knees, head bowed, as his teammates walked past him offering consolatory pats on the back.

Surprising then that Ashwin picks this incident as the best moment of his just-over-a-year-old international career.

“It is the biggest lesson I learnt from one over,” says Ashwin. “It taught me to put up my hand and volunteer for the hardest thing without thinking of the consequences. I realized that I was prepared to get hit, and to take a fall. I was prepared to lose some to win many.”

It was a lesson well learnt. Ashwin finished as the best bowler of the tournament, with 13 wickets from six matches to spearhead CSK’s victorious campaign.

Four months earlier, Ashwin was making his first consistent run with CSK since he joined the team in its inaugural year in 2008.

In a team boasting of the Sri Lankan offspinner Muttiah Muralitharan, the highest wicket-taker in both Tests and ODIs, Ashwin was not only picking up more wickets, but was also proving to be the more economical bowler of the two. Bowling with a bare run-up and a high arm action, Ashwin kept his focus on cramping batsmen with tight control. When the batsmen got impatient, he would rip off-breaks across at varying pace and turn, sneak in the “carrom ball” (a delivery using the thumb and the middle finger to flick the ball, and used only

by Sri Lankan Ajantha Mendis and Ashwin in international cricket), and manipulate the batsman to play a rash shot. He was the go-to man for Dhoni, taking up the challenge of opening the bowling, and operating in the power plays and slog overs.

“Like any other spinner, I like the old ball,” Ashwin says, “because it just sits in your hand better, and you can get more revolutions. But the truth is that I’m up for any challenge—new ball, slog over, power play...”

“This IPL exercise and the T20 format has done a lot for me as a cricketer, and made me more mature,” the engineer from Chennai says. “I got the chance to work with Muralitharan, to see how excited he was preparing for every game. He was like a child at practice. He never thought twice about his success, but was always harsh about his failures. I absorbed all these mental aspects.”

Ashwin’s breakthrough year was fuelled by his long wait on the sidelines for CSK, where he spent most of the first two seasons.

“I don’t enjoy sitting and clapping for other people if I’m not on the field. So I was constantly trying to pinch for a place in the side, constantly pushing myself harder at practice.”

Ashwin’s IPL exploits inevitably led to a call to the national side, where he picked up 11 wickets at an average of 21.9 in a five-match ODI series at home against New Zealand in November and December.

Unlike Kohli and Pathan, Ashwin’s place in the playing eleven for the World Cup is far from assured, since Harbhajan Singh will be the first choice spinner for India.

“Of course, it’s my dream to win a World Cup. But I’m not even sure of a place in the team,” Ashwin says. “But if someone told me I have to compete against the world’s best and come up with a fantastic performance, I’ll probably back myself. Whether I can actually pull it off or not is another issue, but I have the confidence to try.

Maybe it’s a bit of madness, but that’s how I am.”

L12 MILESTONES SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

FIVE WORLD CUP EVENTS THAT CHANGED CRICKET Jonty Rhodes’ missile­like dives, the 1999 Aussie victory and the might of a Sri Lankan opening pair—they shaped the One Day game

South Africa’s rain­hit semi­final loss in 1992

B Y R UDRANEIL S ENGUPTA rudraneil.s@livemint.com

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India’s victory in England in 1983 Kapil Dev and his men pulled off the then biggest surprise in cricket by beating twice champions West Indies in the World Cup final. Instantly, cricket became India’s sport of choice, overshadowing all other games. Post­1983, the power and support base for cricket too began shifting towards the subcontinent from its traditional bastion in England. The next World Cup in 1987 was held in India and Pakistan, followed by the 1996 World Cup that India

SIPHIWE SIBEKO/REUTERS

co­hosted with Pakistan and Sri Lanka. Inevitably, the sub­ continental teams began making their mark in world cricket. Pakistan lifted the trophy in 1992, followed by Sri Lanka in 1996. By 2005, the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) had become the richest and most influential cricket board in the world, completing the process that had been inadvertently set in motion by India’s only World Cup­winning team.

DINUKA LIYANAWATTE/REUTERS

A rejuvenated post­apartheid South African squad surprised everyone with some electrifying cricket to reach the semi­final of the 1992 World Cup against England. South Africa needed just 22 runs from 13 balls to win before a short burst of rain made a mockery of the match. A farcical rain rule meant South Africa faced a revised target of 22 runs off one ball to win when the match resumed. It was more than apparent that a new rain rule was needed, and by 1997, the Duckworth Lewis (D/L) method, invented by British statisticians Frank Duckworth and Tony Lewis, was put in place. The International Cricket Council (ICC) adopted the method for the 1999 World Cup, but it was not used even once. In 2001, the D/L method was officially adopted by the ICC for all levels of cricket.

Individual records by Asian players in ODIs

Washed out: Groundsmen cover the pitch as rain disrupts a match in South Africa.

u South Africa’s target if the D/L method had been used in the 1992 World Cup semi­final: five to win from one ball.

Most runs: 17,629, Sachin Tendulkar, India Most centuries: 46, Sachin Tendulkar, India Highest partnership: 331, Sachin Tendulkar/Rahul Dravid, India vs New Zealand, 1999 Most wickets: 517, Muttiah Muralitharan, Sri Lanka Best bowling: 8/19, Chaminda Vaas, Sri Lanka vs Zimbabwe, 2001 Most five­wicket hauls: 13, Waqar Younis, Pakistan

u South Africa miscalculated the D/L revised score in the 2003 World Cup and finished by blocking the last ball of a rain­curtailed match against Sri Lanka. They needed one run to win, and were eliminated from the tournament.

Top bowler: Sri Lanka’s Muttiah Muralitharan.

Most catches in an ODI innings TOUCHLINE PHOTO/GETTY IMAGES

Jonty Rhodes: Five vs West Indies, 1993 Most ODI catches in career

Mahela Jayawardene, Sri Lanka: 168, 330 matches Mohammed Azharuddin, India: 156, 334 matches Ricky Ponting, Australia: 152, 352 matches DINUKA LIYANAWATTE/REUTERS

Caught: Sri Lanka’s Mahela Jayawardene.

Jonty Rhodes at the 1992 edition Till 1992, cricket was a game meant primarily for batsmen and bowlers, and fielding was just something everyone had to do. Jonty Rhodes changed that—diving like a missile towards the stumps to run out Pakistan’s Inzamam­ul­Haq. This became the iconic image not just of that Cup, but also of cricket in the 1990s. For more than a decade after that, Rhodes set the standard for fielding, pulling off unbelievable catches with acrobatic leaps, or running out desperate batsmen with lightning

throws. By the beginning of the 2000s, Rhodes’ exploits on the field had raised the standards of fielding for every international team, and made it mandatory for teams to appoint fielding coaches. Rhodes himself has been a fielding coach for South Africa, Pakistan and now Kenya, and a fielding consultant for England.

From Sri Lanka’s Tillakaratne Dilshan to India’s Yuvraj Singh and Australia’s Ricky Ponting, fielding had never been as glamorous before Rhodes went airborne.

Flying fielder: Jonty Rhodes redefined fielding skills with his acrobatic approach.

Jayasuriya and Kaluwitharana as openers

Australia’s 1999 win

Thinking ahead to the 1996 World Cup in the subcontinent, Sri Lanka coach Dav Whatmore and captain Arjuna Ranatunga came up with the idea of using two pinch hitters as openers during Lanka’s tour of Australia in 1996, inspired by the success of New Zealand opener Mark Greatbatch’s high­speed cameos in the 1992 World Cup. With anarchic irreverence, Sanath Jayasuriya and Romesh Kaluwitharana went about destroying bowling attacks. Sri Lanka’s only World Cup win was set on their slash­and­burn opening

Australia humiliated Pakistan in the final of the 1999 World Cup at Lord’s, England. Glenn McGrath and Shane Warne ripped through the Pakistani batting line­up to dismiss them for just 132, the lowest total in a World Cup final. Australia raced home in 21 overs for the loss of two wickets, signalling the start of the most dominant era in cricket by any team. The core of that World Cup­winning team—McGrath, Warne, Mark and Steve Waugh, Ricky Ponting and Michael Bevan—was responsible for Australia’s incredible success in both Tests and ODIs, and when Ponting took over as captain in 2002, the record just got better. Three successive World Cup wins later (1999, 2003 and 2007), the Australian team finally began to lose its aura in 2009 after a decade of complete control, with a loss to England in the Ashes. They still come into the 2011 World Cup unbeaten since the 1999 tournament.

partnerships, where they exploited the field restrictions in the first 15 overs. Jayasuriya finished as the man of the tournament with 221 runs at a strike rate of 131.54. Since then, ODI scores have routinely crossed the 300­run mark per innings because it became a norm for every international team to open with their most aggressive batsmen—Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly (later Virender Sehwag) for India and Adam Gilchrist and Matthew Hayden for Australia being some of the best examples.

Highest opening partnerships in ODIs

Upul Tharanga/Sanath Jayasuriya (Sri Lanka): 286 vs England, 2006 James Marshall/Brendon McCullum (New Zealand): 274 vs Ireland, 2008 Sachin Tendulkar/Sourav Ganguly (India): 258 vs Kenya, 2001 Sachin Tendulkar/Sourav Ganguly (India): 252 vs Sri Lanka, 1998 Marvan Atapattu/Sanath Jayasuriya (Sri Lanka): 237 vs Australia, 2003 Best opening pair in ODIs with at least 1,500 runs

Sourav Ganguly/Sachin Tendulkar (India): 136 matches, 6,609 runs, 49.32 average Matthew Hayden/Adam Gilchrist (Australia): 114 matches, 5,372 runs, 48.39 average Gordon Greenidge/Desmond Haynes (West Indies): 102 matches, 5,150 runs, 52.55 average Herschelle Gibbs/Gary Kirsten (South Africa): 66 matches, 2,838 runs, 46.52 average Chris Gayle/Shivnarine Chanderpaul (West Indies): 43 matches, 1,947 runs, 48.67 average

SUNIL SAXENA/HINDUSTAN TIMES

Blitzkrieg: Sanath Jayasuriya in action.

Australia facts

AFP

Unbeaten: (above) Australia with the 1999 World Cup; and Ricky Ponting.

Most victories as ODI captain: 122 matches, Ricky Ponting Longest undefeated run in World Cups: 29 matches Longest undefeated run in ODIs: 21 matches (excluding World Cups) Australia’s record in ODIs pre­ and post­1999

1971­1998: 406 matches, 220 won, 172 lost, three tied, 11 no result, 1.27 win/loss ratio 1999–2007: 263 matches, 192 won, 57 lost, five tied, nine no result, 3.36 win/loss ratio

RAJNISH KATYAL/HINDUSTAN TIMES

CONTENDERS L13 SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

THE VISITING FAVOURITES SANTOSH HARHARE/HINDUSTAN TIMES

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The number of ties in World Cups so far: Australia vs South Africa in 1999, South Africa vs Sri Lanka in 2003, and Ireland vs Zimbabwe in 2007 Darren Gough says. But it’s in spinner Graeme Swann that England have their most potent weapon. Swann took 64 wickets in 14 matches at an average of 25.78 in Tests, and 28 wickets in 14 ODIs in 2010—the year’s best performance from a spinner.

Attackers: South Africa’s Dale Steyn (second from right) is congratulated by teammates after bowling out India’s Suresh Raina in the final ODI at Centurion on 23 January.

South Africa: The balanced side

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Defending champions Australia, perennial chokers South Africa and smoking hot England will be equal hopefuls in what would be an unpredictable World Cup B Y S ANJEEB M UKHERJEA ·································

Australia: Chasing a fifth The invincibles bear a ragged look. Of the 25 One Day Internationals Australia played in 2010, they lost eight—a respectable statistic for a lesser team.

But for the team that had made victory its byword—the hat-trick of World Cup wins (1999, 2003 and 2007) was the brightest plume in its cap—the fall was sharp. Their Test squad fell even harder.

In their last tour of India in October, the unofficial world Test champions for the better part of two decades, went back without a single win. Weeks later, the humiliation was complete when England claimed the Ashes for the second successive time.

Even the kindest supporters of Australia do not think this particular bunch can retain the trophy. “They got their confidence sucked out in the Ashes,” says former Australian paceman Geoff Lawson. “The aura isn’t there, and that’s a big thing for all the opponents, who might not worry too much about this team.”

Without the usual success stories, the Australian media has focused on the return of Brett Lee, one of only two Australians to have taken more than 300 Test and ODI wickets. The 34-year-old has not been at his best since 2007 because of recurring injuries. “It’s been a tough two years to get myself back in shape like I was a few seasons ago,” Lee says. “I wouldn’t have come back bowling 135k(mph). I knew if I could get my fitness back, bowling at 150k(mph) wouldn’t be a problem.”

Lee went through a six-month stint with former Olympic weightlifter and National Football League (NFL) strength coach Paul Haslam to prepare for the World Cup in the subcontinent. “There’s no reason why you can’t do well on those wickets. If you are bowling at 150k(mph) through the air and hitting the right spots, then it doesn’t matter what sort of wicket you are playing on, it will be difficult for the batsmen,” says Lee, who has been working on an extra variation in a slower bouncer.

But for Lee, the pace department is a pale shadow of the line-up that used to include Glenn McGrath, Nathan Bracken and Jason Gillespie. Shaun

Tait, the joint second-highest wicket taker in the 2007 World Cup, is now more of a shock bowler, operating in short bursts. His fragile body has seen action in only a handful of ODIs in the last two years. While Mitchell Johnson is slowly getting back to swinging it in to the right-handers, Doug Bollinger still has fitness issues. “We do not have any bowling match-winners,” Lawson says bluntly.

Spin bowling, which can prove pivotal in the subcontinental context, too remains a worry. Selection committee chairman Andrew Hilditch pulled Nathan Hauritz back into the team from oblivion, saying Hauritz’s “One Day record in India is excellent”.

But Hauritz averages over 70 runs for the four wickets he has taken here in seven One Dayers.

The Australians have also failed to find batsmen of the calibre of the retired Matthew Hayden and Adam Gilchrist, both seasoned campaigners in the subcontinent. But captain Ricky Ponting will face the sternest test. A humiliating Ashes trail—though they won the ODI series—that all but scuppered his chances of playing Test cricket again, a broken finger, and a public baying for his head—Ponting knows what’s at stake. He is playing his fifth cup, having won the last three, two as captain. But Michael Bevan, who played in the 1999 and 2003 World Cups with Ponting, says, “He is still the best leader this team could have.”

England: On a roll The Ashes win in Australia last month (though they lost the ODI series) rounded off one of the best years in English cricket in recent history. Andrew Strauss’ men won 12 of the 17 ODIs they played in 2010 and claimed the Twenty20 World Cup. England go into a World Cup as a strong favourite for the first time in 20 years. “The victory closes an era of Ashes, but at the same time, opens up an entirely new page for English cricket,” says former English batsman and now commentator Geoffrey Boycott. “There is so much more this side can go on to conquer.”

The team is secure in the hands of a captain who has led from the front.

Besides notching up Test hundreds and

KRYSTLE WRIGHT/AFP

High fives: (top) England players celebrate a wicket in the second match of the ODI series in Australia on 21 January; and Australian bowler Brett Lee (second from right) celebrates a catch against England in the same match. memorable wins, Strauss also averaged over 50 with the bat in ODIs in 2010.

Though there are few contentious selections in the tour party, England seem to have struck a fine balance in choosing the team. Ian Bell, Jonathan Trott, Paul Collingwood, Eoin Morgan and the enigmatic Kevin Pietersen could well decide the course of the group that also features South Africa and India.

“Pietersen is the game changer,” Boycott says. “He can turn any match on its head in minutes. But you need to be careful in those conditions. Getting acclimatized to it is a must for the team to do well there.”

It is here that coach Andy Flower and fast-bowling coach David Saker will have vital roles to play. Flower has already underlined his aggressive intent by selecting Matt Prior ahead of Steve Davies as the gloveman-cumhard-hitter. With knocks of 85 in Melbourne, a hundred and more in Sydney, Prior’s combative attitude will prove a crucial asset. Flower’s other selection, Collingwood, who has

retired from Test cricket, is also understood to have unanimous backing. “To win big battles, you need experienced generals. Someone who knows the terrain you will fight upon,” Boycott explains.

Flower seems to have done well also in coaxing the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) to renew Saker’s contract. Said to be the architect of the powerful backroom that felled the Aussies, the former Australian first-class cricketer now has the World Cup blueprint ready. “Our boys will have to bowl a bit differently there. You will need to take the pace off the ball a bit more, and use your slower ones better,” says Saker. “It won’t swing as much as it did here in Australia, but I guess that is the way you need to keep the batsmen guessing.”

The pace trio of James Anderson, Stuart Broad and Tim Bresnan have consistently won England matches. “The challenge will be to quickly get used to the conditions, and be on the coin soon enough,” former England fast bowler

There’s just one question that looms like an omnipresent spectre over South African cricket—will they choke again?

They have done it repeatedly, with the best-known incident coming in the 1999 World Cup semi-final against Australia.

The Proteas needed just one run off four balls to win when a misunderstanding between Lance Klusener and last man Allan Donald resulted in a run-out with the scores tied. Australia went through to the final on the strength of an earlier win over the Africans in the tournament.

“I can never get over that silly run-out that cost us the World Cup in 1999. We were simply the best team then,” recollects Donald, South Africa’s leading wicket taker of all-time.

The 2011 squad—that elusive mix of young talent and seasoned veterans in their prime, led by inspirational captain Graeme Smith—has the potential to redeem their predecessors.

January’s One Day series win over India will have given them the right kind of momentum. Hashim Amla has played himself into the One Day side, and along with A.B. de Villiers, Jacques Kallis and J.P. Duminy, averages more than 50 in limited overs cricket over the last three years. It’s the only team in the World Cup to boast four top order batsmen all with averages above 50. While that does give the top order a formidable look, Smith’s patchy form has been a niggle of late. “There are still a few batting positions that have problems, which need to be sorted out soon,” says former Proteas batsman Peter Kirsten. “Smith has a technical problem playing spin in the subcontinent.”

It is the presence of the tournament’s only genuine all-rounder, Kallis, that could be a defining factor in the team’s favour. Kallis too knows this is his last real shot at taking the trophy home.

“What more can you say about Kallis? He has simply been South Africa’s best player for many years now,” says former all-rounder Brian McMillan. “It’s time for him to step up and win it for South Africa.”

In the 2010-11 season, Kallis averaged 59.3 in ODIs with the bat, but even that pales in comparison with his Test average during the same period—93.85.

He also picked 11 wickets in each format of the game. Kallis should find able support in the Proteas’ four seamers and five spin options. Morne Morkel and rookie Lonwabo Tsotsobe were in fiery form during their series against India, and along with Dale Steyn, who was one of the best bowlers last year with 60 Test and 10 ODI wickets, will make up the most potent pace attack in the Cup. “Steyn is an amazing bowler,” says Donald. “He will do well in India because he reverses it so well. He will be the X-factor in our attack. But if any one of the three fast bowlers gets injured, we will have a big problem.”

Write to lounge@livemint.com

L14 PROFILE

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

THE RE­EDUCATION OF YUVRAJ SINGH Why the worst year of his life could be the key to bringing out the best in the left­handed batsman B Y R UDRANEIL S ENGUPTA rudraneil.s@livemint.com

································· he year 2010 was not kind to Yuvraj Singh. It didn’t have to be this way for the man once regarded as one of the most destructive batsmen in the world, who announced himself on the international stage in 2000 with an 80-ball 84 in only his second One Day International (ODI) innings against a seasoned Australian side. In stark contrast, his 10th year in international cricket was spent searching for form and fitness, which also resulted in him being dropped, for the first time in eight years, from India’s One Day squad.

“It must be the toughest year I have faced in my decade-long career,” Singh says. “I’m glad it’s over.”

The slide started at the 2010 World Twenty20 in West Indies in May, where India were knocked out in the Super 8 stage by Sri Lanka. Singh scored just 74 runs in five matches, and stood at midwicket, a safe haven for mediocre fielders. A far cry from the elastic and electric fielder who prowled at point, and a low point for the man who hit England’s Stuart Broad for six sixes in an over to send millions of fans into a frenzy in India’s victorious campaign at the inaugural World Twenty20 in 2007.

On the day India were eliminated, Singh was also involved in a pub brawl in St Lucia, and on the team’s return, he was singled out for criticism for his lack of fitness and promptly dropped from the Indian squad for the Asia Cup, a multi-team ODI tournament, in June.

What was perhaps never fully acknowledged was that Singh had been struggling with a cartilage injury in his left wrist, one which he aggravated right before the World Twenty20 by rushing back into action for the Indian Premier League (IPL) in April. But after Punjab performed poorly at the IPL, there were questions about his commitment on the field.

“I think that was the worst part of the year,” Singh says. “The lack of sensitivity from everyone was a real setback. I don’t know where that story came from, but to say that I am intentionally underperforming was something I never expected. It was a serious allegation on my integrity and commitment to the game. It just showed how people perceived things and blew them up without even thinking what kind of scar it will leave on the individual.”

Singh was replaced by Kumar Sangakkara as the captain before the start of the 2010 IPL season.

Singh’s biggest nemesis, though, is not the public perception that he is a man who parties harder off the field than he plays on it, but his lengthy

T

list of injuries. In the span of a few months starting from the end of 2009 till October 2010, Singh broke his fingers thrice, had a cartilage tear in his wrist, was troubled by a recurring knee injury, and suffered a series of neck sprains.

After every setback, the inevitable and lengthy rehabilitation process followed, taking Singh further away from his goals on the field at an age when batsmen are supposed to hit their peak form.

“The back-to-back injuries left me emotionally and physically drained,” Singh says, “and because of those injuries, I never got time to settle back into a rhythm.”

Despite being left out of the ODI team, Singh made it back to the Test squad for a series in Sri Lanka in August-September. Singh grabbed his chance with a century in the first tour game where all Indian batsmen other than Gautam Gambhir struggled to score. He followed it up with a half-century in the first Test. Before the second Test, he came down with dengue fever, and was replaced by Suresh Raina, who scored a century on debut. Now Raina is the first choice for the No. 6 slot in Tests, and Singh is back on the sidelines, yet again nursing his decade-long dream of being a regular in the Indian Test squad.

“I had to remain patient with my injuries,” Singh says. “I didn’t want to rush into things again. Despite whatever was happening around me, it was JACK ATLEY/BLOOMBERG

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Ricky Ponting holds the record for most number of sixes in all World Cups from 39 matches

important to remain focused and follow the process.”

In September-October, Singh went for a three-week stint at the National Cricket Academy in Bangalore, which is equipped with the latest infrastructure for training and rehabilitation for India’s most talented cricketers. From there, it was back to domestic cricket, to try and get in as much match practice as he could.

Singh had been at these crossroads before. In the beginning of the 2005 season, his average had slipped below 30, he was failing consistently with the bat, and India’s then coach, Greg Chappell, was openly criticizing him. In a match against West Indies in August 2005, Singh found his catharsis. He came in with India reeling at 51 for 3 (and opener Sourav Ganguly retired hurt) and blasted a savage 110 off 114 balls to lead India to victory. When he reached his century, Singh roared and gesticulated at the Indian dressing room. That was the beginning of a stunning turnaround. Between November 2005 and May 2006, Singh pumped out three centuries and seven fifties in just 22 matches, averaging 62.

This time, Singh announced his return to form with an unbeaten 204 for the Rest of India team against Mumbai in the Irani Cup in October last year.

In January, he marked his comeback to the ODI team with a 68-ball 53 in the second game on India’s tour to South Africa. In the fourth ODI, he picked up three wickets, and finished the tour with two more in the fifth and final match. It was a performance that again reinforced why he is so crucial to the Indian ODI squad—with the bat, he is brutal and effortless when in touch, and with the ball he is a canny wicket taker disguised as an inoffensive left arm spinner. His record at home, where he averages 42.04 from 80 matches at a strike rate of 91.3, is second to none. The World Cup in the subcontinent is just the right stage for Singh, who also has the experience of playing in two previous World Cups.

“I tried to control what I could, to recover well, train hard and leave no stone unturned,” Singh says. “I would say comebacks are more difficult than making a debut. After injuries, you are worried about your movement on the pitch, and at the back of your mind is the obvious fear of getting injured again.

When you’ve been around for so long, everyone expects you to do well from the word go.

“It was a year which taught me a lot about myself, about the world, and I would take it as a learning curve.”

Ecstasy and agony: Yuvraj Singh (right) celebrates his century in the first ODI against England in Rajkot in 2008; and Singh suffered a back injury during the match.

PHOTOGRAPHS

BY

SANTOSH HARHARE/HINDUSTAN TIMES

BOOKS L15

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

Q&A | SHEHAN KARUNATILAKA

1996

‘A RARE TYPE OF BOWLING’

Sri Lanka is the only host country to have won the World Cup

The author of ‘Chinaman’ on cricket writing, dead novels and getting sued SANTOSH HARHARE/HINDUSTAN TIMES

B Y S UPRIYA N AIR supriya.n@livemint.com

································· hehan Karunatilaka’s biography explains that he “spent the last three years interviewing drunks and watching Sri Lankan cricket matches”. Out of these pleasurable activities came his novel Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew, whose protagonists are, respectively, an alcoholic journalist and an obscure genius of spin bowling who may or may not be alive. Karunatilaka calls up a puzzling, enraging, largely masculine world of Sri Lankan cricket, and cricket journalism. Underpinning its boozy, soft-bellied voice is an often serious look at race, class and life in a nation that—like all others in the world—can seem both intimate and baffling to its own people. Edited excerpts from an interview:

S

At what point did you begin to think about cricket, and cricket fans, as the basis for a novel?

Adolescent fantasies. Isn’t that where all ideas come from? I used to dream of bowling left-arm spin for Sri Lanka.

Which is fine when you’re 11, less so when you’re 34.

While sitting at bus stops, in waiting rooms, I plotted out an elaborate career path for myself.

Complete with rise and fall. Sadly, my cricketing talent couldn’t keep up with my daydreams. All these thoughts sat in my notebook until one day I was at a wedding and watched two distinguished uncles punching each other over a cricket argument.

The book didn’t evolve till much later, but the seeds began with these two threads.

How did the character of Pradeep Mathew take shape? Did he come first, or did your other protagonist and the voice of the novel, W.G. Karunasena?

When people ask me if Pradeep is a real person, my standard answer is, “Everything about Pradeep Mathew is true, except for his name.” People forget how crap Sri Lanka was at cricket in the 1980s. We had a bit of talent, but no one would tour us because of our war and when we did play, we got thrashed.

There were quite a few Lankans, many of them spinners, who played a few games and disappeared.

When I first stumbled across Pradeep’s story, I struggled with how to make it play. I tried a straight, third-person biography but couldn’t make the tall stories stand up. Then I tried it as a series of interviews with those who knew Pradeep—the Citizen Kane approach. W.G. began as a minor character. An alcoholic cricket obsessive who remembered Pradeep.

It turned out he had lots of stories, which he would force on me every morning. I didn’t even notice that he’d taken over the book until it was much too late. Sometimes, the best way to tell a tall tale is to get a drunk to narrate it.

‘Chinaman’ draws a very thin line between fiction and non-fiction. Can you tell us about that balancing act?

Contrary to appearances, I’m not that much into cricket. I don’t mind the game, but I’m hardly a fanatic like W.G. But I did know that if the book was to work, it would have to pass the scrutiny of cricket pedants. So I got stuck in and did my homework.

I watched every Sri Lankan match between 1982 and 1999, studied the stats, collected anecdotes and

Chinaman—The Legend of Pradeep Mathew: Random House, 408 pages, `499.

scribbled down more ideas than I needed. As many clichés testify, the truth can be pretty strange. Most of the stories in Chinaman are based on fact. I had to leave some of the best ones out. Every match featured in the book really happened. More or less.

All I really did was change the names so as not to get sued. Or to change them just enough, so that if I did get sued, I’d win.

Did you think twice about the title?

At one point in the novel, you acknowledge how provocative it is.

I didn’t get the racial connotations until much later. Now that I work in Singapore I get a few raised eyebrows every time I mention the title. I just wanted to use a sporting term, as most cricketing biographies tend to do.

Chinaman refers to a rare type of bowling that seemed appropriate to a rare talent like Pradeep’s. I also wanted to allude to that charming Sinhala phrase about a “Chinaman with a ponytail” that refers to lies and gullibility and doesn’t translate very well.

There aren’t a great many cricket novels. Did telling this story feel like you were entering unmapped territory?

It’s surprising that there aren’t many great cricketing novels considering the wealth of non-fiction on the sport, from the ubiquitous player biographies to more philosophical

musings on the game.

I’m not sure it’s entirely untrodden ground though. The archetype of the mythical unsung talent exists in American sports folklore and I absorbed a lot of this. Work like George Plimpton’s The Curious Case of Sidd Finch and Bernard Malamud’s The Natural.

I basically took this archetype and adapted it to the subcontinent. It also seemed an interesting way to explore Sri Lankan themes outside of cricket.

But I guess it was this notion of freshness and discovery that attracted me to the project and made the writing of it so much fun.

On the other hand, we’re inundated with cricket journalism. Are there any cricket writers you like or turn to repeatedly?

Cricket is the second most archived subject on the Net after porn. I spent a lot of time downloading scorecards, scanning match reports and ordering every book with cricket in the title.

I began with the masters, Christopher Martin-Jenkins and C.L.R. James, as well as sports-writing from the likes of Norman Mailer and Hunter S. Thompson.

The ones that I kept returning to were Simon Barnes’ The Meaning of Sport, Marcus Berkmann’s Rain Men and the writings of Lawrence Booth and Ed Smith.

Broadening the question, who are the writers you enjoy reading? Did any influence ‘Chinaman’?

I read a lot of Kurt Vonnegut to get that curmudgeonly tone for W.G. The character’s initials are actually a tribute to William Goldman, whose non-fiction writings on the screen trade have been a big stylistical influence on me.

But the main work that I borrowed from for Chinaman was a mockumentary done by Peter Jackson in the early 1990s called Forgotten Silver. It’s a brilliant piece

about a genius film-maker who lived in obscurity in provincial New Zealand in the early 1900s and pioneered many great cinematic techniques.

This was long before The Lord of the Rings, and two things were obvious to me. That Peter Jackson would be a great film-maker, and that someday, I would try and tell a very similar story.

I’ve read that this isn’t your first novel. What happened to ‘The Painter’?

I think most writers have dead novels that sit in their attics or, as in my case, in a box under a bed. The Painter was a terrible book, written when I had no idea of what I was saying and less of an idea on how to say it. It was a supernatural noir thriller, part Fight Club, part Raymond Chandler, part The Exorcist. It was worse than it sounds.

I heard that Marina Lewycka wrote nine dead novels before finally publishing A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian. The Painter was a great lesson in what not to do when writing about Sri Lanka.

After The Painter, I didn’t write for about five years, though I kept reading and travelling and scribbling notes. When Chinaman came along, I did the opposite of what I did during The Painter. It’s true that you learn more from your screw-ups.

What are you writing now?

The biggest lesson I learned from The Painter experience was to never talk about a project you’re working on. I’ll just say that it’s another strange Sri Lankan story.

It’s quite ambitious and has nothing to do with cricket or drunks. I’ve begun the research and am quite excited by what I’m finding. But I’m a notoriously slow writer, especially when the deadline’s loose. So this one could take most of the next decade.

REVIEW

Unorthodox spin Shehan Karunatilaka’s novel about cricket encompasses an entire way of life on the subcontinent

I

Ceylon satire: Karunatilaka’s Chinaman is in some ways reminiscent of Mohammed Hanif’s A Case of Exploding Mangoes.

f only W.G. Karunasena were the sort of fortunate man known by his initials.

What could be more opportune for a cricket journalist than to be known as “W.G.”, two letters that will always recall cricket’s first great icon, W.G. Grace? But life is always full of disappointments, small and big, and for the ageing, alcoholic W.G., there is nothing more symbolic of this fact than the legend of Pradeep Mathew.

“Begin with a question,” Karunasena tells his readers at the start of his narrative in Shehan Karunatilaka’s ‘Chinaman’. “Why have I not heard of this so­called Pradeep Mathew? Why am I chasing a man who played only four Test matches for Sri Lanka?”

It takes us the length of this lush, achingly sad—and hilarious—novel to unravel that fascination. W.G. sifts through decades of Sri Lanka’s cricket history to trace the genius left­arm unorthodox spinner, who disappeared mysteriously. His narrative offers a glimpse into a world where Sinhala and Tamil, artiste and hustler, colonialism and post­colonialism, are locked together both on the pitch and off it.

The roiling, boozy voice of W.G. tells us the story in anecdotal spurts, now

painting with a broad brush, now offering a view of a cricket match or boardroom intrigue with reportorial precision. Characters veer close to caricature, as Karunatilaka helps himself liberally to real persons—not all of whom are given fake names, either.

The overall effect can pall sometimes, particularly for those who don’t love the sport with the passion of a 60­something cricket reporter, but as the novel steps back and forth between honest comedy and sly satire, it offers far more opportunities for delight.

Cricket is not the novel’s guiding metaphor; the sport, and the ways in which it can consume both player and spectator, are actually the soul of ‘Chinaman’. Readers familiar with the writing of Mohammed Hanif may hear echoes of an unlikely counterpart from across the subcontinent—the young Ali Shigri of ‘A Case of Exploding Mangoes’—in W.G.’s keen­eyed, sharp­tongued tone. Cricket’s practicalities may not have much in common with a military dictatorship, but it can break a heart with a lot less bloodshed.

Supriya Nair

L16 NOSTALGIA SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

HOW WE WON THE WORLD CUP Former Indian cricketers recall their dogged, driven and utterly improbable 1983 victory

B Y R UDRANEIL S ENGUPTA rudraneil.s@livemint.com

································· n 29 March 1983, Holi among the Indian community of Berbice, a tiny town in Guyana, was a shade more colourful.

It was the day the Indian cricket team, under 24-year-old Kapil Dev, made the first serious dent in the seemingly unbeatable West Indies side that had dominated One Day Internationals (ODIs) since the first World Cup in 1975.

Barely two months before the World Cup, India had taken on cricket’s toughest assignment—a series against Clive Lloyd’s men in the West Indies. A team filled with batting legends—Vivian Richards, Gordon Greenidge, Desmond Haynes and Lloyd himself—backed by the fiercest pace quartet ever—Malcolm Marshall, Joel Garner, Michael Holding and Andy Roberts—the West Indies were not only two-time World Cup winners, but also the unofficial world Test champions. India, on the other hand, had lost a Test series of six matches 0-3 in Pakistan and three of the four ODIs (leading to the removal of captain Sunil Gavaskar) just before the Caribbean tour. By the time they arrived in Berbice, they had already lost the first Test and ODI, and defied expectations to draw the second Test.

But helped by Gavaskar’s brisk Krishnamachari 90—agonizingly close Srikkanth’s score in to becoming India’s 1983—the lowest first One Day centurion—and Dev’s individual top score of whirlwind 72 off 38 any World Cup final balls, India got to 282 for 5 in the allocated 47 overs, their highest ODI score till then.

India’s bits-and-pieces bowling attack then struck at regular intervals, and the hosts fell 27 runs short of the target—their first ODI loss with a full-strength team at home. It was also India’s first ODI win against Lloyd’s men.

HINDUSTAN TIMES “It was definitely the best thing to happen to us,” says Madan Lal, who picked up the crucial wicket of Richards in that match, “because immediately, our confidence shot up.

West Indies were not unbeatable any more. We felt that we understood their bowlers, knew the weaknesses of their batsmen. It was a great advantage.”

The foundation for an epoch-defying World Cup campaign had been laid.

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The underdogs

Triumphant: Kapil’s Devils celebrate their victory.

ADRIAN MURRELL/ALLSPORT UK/GETTY IMAGES

Yet the Indian team had little expectation from the World Cup in England. In the previous two editions, India had lost all matches except one.

“Most of the team members had bought flight tickets for a holiday in the US before going for the World Cup,” recalls former Indian batsman and current chairman of selectors for the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), Krishnamachari Srikkanth.

The only genuine fast bowler in the team, Dev, was backed by the gentle swing and seam of Roger Binny, Lal, and Balwinder Singh Sandhu.

Srikkanth and Sandeep Patil were considered the only specialist One Day batsmen.

In the first match, India were up against the defending champions. But with the memory of Berbice still fresh, the Indian batsmen set West Indies a competitive target of 263, built around Yashpal Sharma’s attacking 89 and cameos by Patil, Lal and Binny. If Dev’s men also needed a little luck, they got it.

“The game was called off the first day with West Indies at 67 for 2 because of

NOSTALGIA L17 SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM ADRIAN MURRELL/GETTY IMAGES

HINDUSTAN TIMES

bad light and rain,” recalls Binny.

“When we went back to Old Trafford (in Manchester) the next day, there was a massive cloud cover, and the ball was swinging a lot!”

Binny removed Richards and Lloyd, Sandhu picked up Greenidge, and the West Indies headed for their second defeat to India. “Throughout the World Cup, my biggest strength was Roger Binny,” says Dev. “All I had to tell him was to pitch the ball up.”

In the next match, against Zimbabwe, again delayed by rain, the gentle Indian swing bowlers transformed into a nightmare for the batsmen, with Lal and Binny scalping five wickets between them. India won by five wickets, and their campaign was on. “We were an understated and unknown bowling attack, but the overcast conditions in England were perfect for us,” says Binny.

India lost their third match to Australia, but Dev took five wickets and then smacked 40 off 27 balls to stamp his authority. “That’s what Kapil was like,” says Srikkanth. “He was always mad, he didn’t know how to give up. He was a daredevil and a die-hard optimist, and that rubbed off on the entire team. We were all pumped up with confidence because of him.”

In their next match against the West Indies, however, despite Binny’s by now almost mandatory three-wicket haul, Richards’ 119 handed India a 66-run defeat. But there was one Indian who came out of the match a hero—Mohinder Amarnath, who had battled express pace and lethal bouncers to emerge as the highest scorer in the Test series in the West Indies, made 80 off 139 balls. “My father (Lala Amarnath) used to tell me not to back down from anything,” says Amarnath.

“He taught me not to be scared of anything on the field, and not care about pain. I learnt that lesson well, and it became part of my personality.”

“You can never find a cricketer like Amarnath,” says Dev. “He was so unpredictable in a sense, he never gave the impression that he was a ruthless cricketer. He gave the impression that he was everyone’s teammate.”

The back-to-back defeats served as a

wake-up call for India, who now had to win their remaining two group matches to go through to the knock-out stage.

“We did not want to go home after the start we had got,” says Binny.

They almost did. A horrific batting collapse against Zimbabwe meant Dev walked in with the score reading 9 runs for 4 wickets. When Binny joined Dev at 17 for 5, there were still almost 50 overs left in the innings.

At lunch break, an embarrassed Indian team hid from their captain, leaving just a glass of orange juice on Dev’s seat.

After lunch, Dev continued dragging

India out of danger with his tail-enders, playing a chanceless and uncluttered innings, and hitting the loose balls out of the ground.

“He was hitting the ball cleanly, clearing the 80-yard boundary with hits that went 110, 120 yards,” recalls Lal, with whom Dev shared a 62-run partnership for the eighth wicket. “I didn’t want to disturb him when he was playing like that, so I didn’t speak to him unless he spoke to me.”

After reaching his 72-ball century, Dev called for a new bat, one that was built almost like a baseball bat, making his intentions clear. Dev put up a record ninth-wicket partnership of 126 runs with Syed Kirmani (who scored an unbeaten 24), to finish unbeaten at 175 with six sixes and 16 fours, taking India to a total of 266. India won the match by 31 runs.

“Before this, we had played well but we were still not convinced about our team’s calibre,” says Dev. India were on such a roll that even England, playing at home, offered little resistance in the semi-final.

Getting ready for the finale

GEORGE HERRINGSHAW/WWW.SPORTING­HEROES.NET

In the two days between the semi-final and the final, the Indian team’s only thought was to remain in good spirits. “We were a happy-go-lucky team after the semi-final,” says Amarnath. “We were up against West Indies, a side that was almost impossible to beat—but we had beaten this same team in the first match.”

Srikkanth took it on himself to provide entertainment. “I like talking and cracking jokes, and doing silly things to make a fool of myself,” says Srikkanth.

“He (Srikkanth) always thought that he spoke good Hindi,” says Binny, “and he felt he was a great singer. He would go around singing Hindi songs seriously in a ridiculous accent and completely wrong lyrics, and everyone would be in fits of laughter.” Strategies, S BURMAULA/HINDUSTAN TIMES

£100

(around `7,270 now) The amount won by a gambler in 1983 for betting on Zimbabwe beating Australia. Chasing 239, Australia fell 13 runs short in Zimbabwe’s World Cup debut match

tactics, and game plans were consciously kept out of conversations.

On the morning of the match, the players were flooded with demands for tickets from family and friends. “We used to get two tickets per player,” says Lal, “but there were hundreds of people begging us for tickets. A friend took my pullover and tried to get into the stadium pretending he was part of the Indian team!”

The match at Lord’s, watched by a capacity crowd threatening to spill over on to the playing field, began in explosive fashion, with Roberts getting rid of Gavaskar in the third over.

Opener Srikkanth felt intimidated: “I didn’t know what was happening,” he says. “I couldn’t figure out what to do.”

He chatted with Amarnath at the other end and decided to turn things around. “There are only two ways to handle fast bowling like that,” Srikkanth says. “Either you are technically perfect like Gavaskar, or you just go out and play an attacking game. I wanted to break their rhythm, so I started attacking them.”

Srikkanth hooked Roberts for a six, drove him through the covers for a four, but his 38 off 57 balls was to be the highest score in the Indian innings, which folded up at 183.

India’s defence, though, got off to a great start—Sandhu picked up Greenidge for one and Haynes fell for 13. But when Richards began smacking boundaries, India faced a crisis. Lal, who had been hit around by Richards in his previous overs, begged Dev to give him one more chance.

“The ball was moving, but he was hitting me on the rise as well—I thought if he was going after me, this could be my chance,” says Lal. In that over, Richards mistimed a hook off Lal, and Dev, running with his back to the ball, took the catch over his shoulder.

“Then Binny picked up Lloyd,” says Dev. “As long as Lloyd was there, he

Magical moments: (clockwise from left) Roger Binny prepares to bowl; Indian players run to the dressing room after the fall of the last West Indies wicket; and team members pose with the World Cup. could have taken his team to the target. When he fell, West Indies started collapsing.”

As Amarnath ambled in with the final ball, trapped Holding on the pad, and umpire Dickie Bird’s finger went up, India were the world champions.

Amarnath picked up a stump and raced straight through to the dressing room, faster than his bowling run-up, avoiding the crowd.

“I was fielding at the mid-wicket boundary at that time,” recalls Binny.

“It was like being inside the stands. I knew the crowd would be on me the moment we won. But my focus was on grabbing one of the stumps before they all disappeared. The moment the last wicket fell, I ran as fast as I could towards the pitch. I must have been pretty fast, because after Amarnath, I was the next one to get a stump!”

When the Indian team finally returned to their hotel, after Dev had lifted the trophy, they found it besieged by supporters. “The lobby had turned into a party area,” says Binny. “There was a bhangra band playing loud music, everyone was dancing, flowers were being thrown around.”

“We were famished when we returned to the hotel,” says Lal, “but with so much dancing, no one had thought about food till (tennis player) Vijay Amritraj, who was also dancing, got some sandwiches from somewhere.”

The party went on till 4 in the morning. “By the time it ended,” Binny says, “we were ready to go to sleep anywhere.”

L18 TRAVEL

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2011 ° WWW.LIVEMINT.COM

PHOTOGRAPHS

BY

VIVEK SHARMA

CROATS PLAY CRICKET TOO

On the picturesque isle of Vis, the sport shares an intimate relationship with surrounding vineyards and football

B Y N EHA P UNTAMBEKAR ·································· very now and then, clusters of tourists slow down by the green bowl between the hills. They stand over the rim for a few minutes, either puzzled or in delight, before walking down to the field. The grass is so dry it scratches at the ankles, and the sun is ruthless, but that doesn’t bother the men in white. Their cries of “Howzzat?” echo past the surrounding vineyards, caressing the still sour grapes. Along the boundary the tourists ask, “Cricket in Croatia?”

In fact, cricket was first played here in 1815, when the British established a naval base in these waters. Given its location so far away from the mainland, Vis was a preferred strategic location for many regimes, right from the early Illyrians to the British. After World War II, the Yugoslavians took control of the island and restricted access. Foreigners weren’t allowed in and many locals

Sea six: (clockwise from left) Café tables in the Vis marina; improvised scoreboards fashioned out of wine barrels; a bird’s­eye view of Vis; and a Croatian league game in progress.

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GRAPHIC

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AHMED RAZA KHAN/MINT

moved out.

Dubrovnik and Hvar, other towns on the Dalmatian coast, became European tourist destinations, but Vis remained cut off. Here, life continued to revolve around fishing and small wineries. It wasn’t until Croatian independence in the early 1990s that Vis was reopened to the world. Locals moved back, tourists came in and cricket found a surprisingly comfortable place between football and wine.

Ironically, the years of isolation give the island an edge today—a hint of authenticity. Arriving in Vis is like stepping into another era. There is no rat race here, no crazy, eye-popping technology, no rush to beat the traffic lights.

Instead, it’s a mass of old stone structures; the solid white stone is set off by bright blue or green doors, and bursts of pink flowers sitting in terracotta pots.

Rickety little orange cars clog the tiny streets. People stop mid-street to shout out hellos. “Bok!” they yell, from their cars, from open windows, from storefronts, and from inside cafés.

Walking along the cobblestone lanes, past handmade shop signs and churches with bells that ring on the hour, past the museum still to open and along the waterfront, you can feel time stretch out between every tick and tock on the clock. They say the day in Vis starts with the newspaper, and the paper only arrives on the noon ferry.

Things are slower on the island. They are also quirkier.

Take cricket, for example. It too has had to adapt to the local rhythm. So the ground sits between twin vineyards and a World War II airstrip, old wine barrels double up as scoreboards, the

game starts only after the day’s fifth cup of coffee, and a six means yet another ball lost in the neighbour’s vineyard. Yes, things are different, but that’s half the fun.

I’m here with my husband Vivek, a part of the Zagreb XI playing the local team for top honours in the Croatian league. Since everyone chips into the team effort, I am the official scorer. It’s not a bad job on a hot day. I sit under a tree with my score sheets and a cool drink, hoping for a hint of valley breeze.

These hills have a story of their own.

They were once rife with politics and strategy, now they are tangled only in strands of thyme and rosemary. During World War II, Marshal Tito established a command centre in the safety of the caves here. He coordinated military operations from what is now just a tourist sign—“Tito’s Cave”. Some 200-odd steps take you through the makeshift rooms where meetings were held, and leaders slept.

Also visible are the bunkers tucked into the hills. Most of them have been taken over by grapes; some have been converted to wine cellars, open to tourists. Signs along the roads tempt visitors into sampling local specialities; others also throw in a hearty meal at local inns—konobas. One such local landmark is right beside the cricket ground—Konoba Roki’s, run by Oliver Roki, otherwise recognized as the wicketkeeper of Vis. The inn’s speciality is the Peka, a traditional cooking method where the meal is prepared on an open wood-fired oven. The fish, meat and vegetables are placed in clay or iron containers and are slow-cooked in their own juices. The only additions

are lime and a splash of the house red wine. It takes over 2 hours to cook. But the end result is worth the wait—an explosion of flavours so complicated, and yet so simple.

As the game winds down (my team wins comfortably), it’s time to cool down by the water. Most touring teams (usually from England, and this includes the mighty MCC) use this to segue into a holiday on the Croatian coast.

The beaches aren’t crowded, and the water is inviting: for lazy swims, kayaking, diving in the blue and silver reflections of the Blue Caves, and exploring the wartime wrecks that lie on the seabed. Then there is that slightly more refined way of enjoying the sea—on a boat, with a glass of white wine in hand, watching the lights on the island go off one by one till only the waves remain awake.

Write to lounge@livemint.com CHILD­FRIENDLY RATING

Vis is the ideal destination to reintroduce children to nature. Time on the small island is spent in the water and the hills— swimming, kayaking, hiking and cycling.

SENIOR­FRIENDLY RATING

In Vis, older people can enjoy a rejuvenating break by the sea. Not being a party island, the crowds here tend to be family oriented.

Many vineyards and restaurants provide pick­up services for those unable to drive.

LGBT­FRIENDLY RATING

Vis does not have exclusive establishments geared for the LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender) community. Locals are known to be friendly and accommodating.