Immediate download The winning way 2 0 learnings from sport for managers anita bhogle ebooks 2024
The Winning Way 2 0 Learnings from Sport
for Managers Anita Bhogle
Visit to download the full and correct content document: https://textbookfull.com/product/the-winning-way-2-0-learnings-from-sport-for-manage rs-anita-bhogle/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant download maybe you interests ...
World 2 0 From Working for Others to Working for Yourself Shuichi Fukuda
Anita is a post-graduate in Sta s cs (IIT-Mumbai) and in Management (IIM-A) and a professed ‘quant’ person who e ortlessly made the transi on to qualita ve research, to account planning, to even scrip ng and producing TV commercials but s ll retains a love for wicked level sudokus and the keyboard. She started her career at Contract Adver sing, was head of Strategic Planning and Research at FCB-Ulka and founded Prosearch Consultants which owes its name to her background in research.
At Prosearch, she conceived The Winning Way, a presenta on that married learnings from management and sport. In the een years that it has been invited to the heart of corporate India, she has made it synonymous with its genre in India, constantly revising it and ensuring that it remains relevant at all mes Her innate analy cal skills combined with Harsha’s ringside view of sport have made it a unique o ering where two people present in their own styles
Harsha has had an unusual career since gradua ng in Chemical Engineering from Osmania University, Hyderabad and then comple ng a post-graduate programme in management from IIM-A. A er working in adver sing, he moved into sports media traversing its many paths and displaying the di erent skills each demanded, before being recognised as the face and the voice of Indian cricket; even having a talent show (Hunt for Harsha) named a er him. His exposure to the world of management allowed him to bring di erent insights to cricket commentary where he has been part of over a hundred test matches, over 400 one-day games and more T20 games than can be remembered He has hosted the nals of World Cups and World T20s (and on one occasion the FIFA World Cup) and is one of India’s most-read columnists
His iden ty now is as much that of a television person as a pioneer in the digital medium. His twi er following places him among the top few in the world in the sports media and his blogs on CricBuzz touched a 100 million views in the rst few months of their appearance.
It is this marriage, quite literally, that has produced one of India’s most admired corporate speaking programmes.
THE WINNING WAY 2.0
Learnings from Sport for Managers
ANITA BHOGLE & HARSHA BHOGLE
Foreword by MUKESH AMBANI
Last Word by RAHUL DRAVID
westland publica ons ltd
61, II Floor, Silverline Building, Alapakkam Main Road, Maduravoyal, Chennai 600095 93, I Floor, Shamlal Road, Daryaganj, New Delhi 110002
This book is sold subject to the condi on that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, circulated, and no reproduc on in any form, in whole or in part (except for brief quota ons in cri cal ar cles or reviews) may be made without wri en permission of the publishers
To our fathers R.S. Kulkarni and A.D. Bhogle whom we remember every day and who so in uenced us. How we would have loved to present them this.
To our mothers Lily Kulkarni and Shalini Bhogle in whose lap we rst sought, and received, shelter and who have always been there for us.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Foreword
Why This Book
Why 2.0?
The Business of Winning
Goals
The Winning Triangle—Ability, A tude and Passion
The Burden of Winning
Learning While Losing
Change
Innova on
Team Building
Leadership
What Price—Winning?
What Sport Has Taught Me
The Last Word: What It Means to Be a Team Player
Notes
Acknowledgements
Long before this book was an idea, and to be honest it remained an idea for a long me, Mukul Deoras (then of Hindustan Unilever and later MD of Colgate Palmolive India) invited us to make a presenta on at one of their events. ‘The Winning Way’, as we called the presenta on, seemed interes ng then and it is just as interes ng today, 500 sessions later. So thank you for being the catalyst, Mukul.
Cricket and adver sing have been an integral part of our life and the learning from those elds forms the basis of a major part of this book. We were helped by the fact that cricketers and other sportsmen, including Sachin Tendulkar, Virender Sehwag, Ian Chappell, Sanjay Manjrekar, Nasser Hussain, Viren Rasquinha, Ajinkya Rahane, Abhinav Bindra, R. Ashwin, Paddy Upton, Abhishek Jhunjhunwala and Virendra Sehwag agreed to speak to us. You will nd their contribu ons at various points in this book.
Sport is just half the story. Almost all of the clients who invited us to their events were willing to talk to us about their organisa ons and the issues they faced. This helped us tailor presenta ons for them but also helped us draw the links between sport and corporate life be er. Many of them, as you would imagine, were sports lovers and that made the dialogue easier. They provided the cri cal input for this book.
We speci cally asked people to share their insights into management and corporate situa ons. Invariably and generously they said ‘yes’ and we were moved by how much me they were willing to give us. The who’s who of corporate India have lent a weight to the book that it would not otherwise have acquired. So, a big thank you to:
Jaithirth (Jerry) Rao, former Country Head, Consumer Banking, Ci bank India, and founder and former CEO, Mphasis
Ni n Paranjpe, Global President—Home care division, Unilever
Mukul Deoras, former MD, Colgate-Palmolive Co.
Niall S.K. Booker, formerly Chief Execu ve O cer, HSBC North America Holdings Inc
Subroto Bagchi, Co-founder, MindTree Ltd. and business author
Neeraj Garg, CEO, Apollo Health & Lifestyle
Sandip Das, Chairman and Senior Partner, Maitreyi Capital Advisors
Saugata Gupta, CEO, Marico Ltd.
Sunil Lulla, Chairman and Managing Director, Grey Group India
Shailesh Ayyangar, MD, Sano India
Anindo Mukherjee, Group CEO at Supermax Personal Care
Madhabi Puri-Buch, Member, SEBI
Marten Pieters, formerly MD and CEO, Vodafone Essar
Bharat Puri, MD, Pidilite Industries
Deep Kalra, Founder and CEO, MakeMyTrip.com
Vivek Kudva, Managing Director, India and CEEMEA, Franklin Templeton Investments
‘Tiger’ Tyagarajan, President & CEO, Genpact
Anand Mahindra, Chairman & MD, Mahindra Group
Ronnie Screwvala, Co-founder, UpGrad
Dr. Santrupt Mishra, CEO, Carbon Black Business and Director, Group Human Resources of the Aditya Birla Group
Sanjay Purohit, formerly MD, Levi Strauss India Y. M. Deosthalee, Director & CFO, L&T Group
V. R. Ferose, Senior Vice President and Head of Globaliza on Services at SAP
N. R. Narayana Murthy, Co-founder, Infosys Pramod Bhasin, Founder & Vice Chairman, Genpact
… and our closest friend and sounding board A. S. Ramchander, VP, Global Marke ng, Castrol
In our rst mee ng with Gautam and Paul of Westland we knew we had found our publishers. It is a cri cal associa on for each must understand the other and we are very happy with them. They suggested that a young, enthusias c, cricket lover, Karthik, be the editor. We went with that sugges on and it was a good one. Karthik is quick and has the ability to spot things that might otherwise slide by. It meant that we had to work a bit more a er we thought the book was done but the extra e ort has just made things be er.
For the last word, for an excellent a er mint, we wanted something from a great team player. Among his gli ering and visible achievements, and others that numbers cannot make visible, Rahul Dravid can take pride in being an outstanding compe tor and human being. Thank you Rahul, not for the rst me, and maybe, not for the last.
So also, one day while thinking about who we could request to write the foreword, we thought we would be audacious and ask Mukesh Ambani. We have had an associa on through his wife Nita, as both our children have bene ted from being at her excellent school. On the few occasions when we had met him, he had come across as being extremely down to earth and approachable. To our great joy, he said yes. We cannot thank him enough for this.
And so our book has Rahul Dravid and Mukesh Ambani in it. Life is good.
Foreword
Sport and business have much in common. Compe veness, dynamism, uncertainty, strategy and execu on, and above all, leadership and team work.
As businesses and corpora ons take on newer and greater global challenges, they will have to rapidly and e ciently disseminate best prac ces to their people in a decentralized yet e ec ve manner. Building capacity and speedily bridging competence gaps will have to be done in unique and innova ve ways. Anita and Harsha Bhogle a empt such an innova on in a most outstanding way—by drawing out business lessons from sport in a gripping book.
I have loved sport since childhood, especially cricket!
This book took me down memory lane. It brought all my memories of sport and business alive. With the advent of the Indian Premier League (IPL), my wife Nita and I have become more closely associated with cricket. We have ourselves learned a great deal in business from this associa on.
Harsha has been an integral part of Indian cricket’s growth. He is part of an ecosystem which has put India on the global map. Indian cricket is now globally respected and admired—thanks to the important role that Harsha has played in the process.
Harsha has made us romance and understand cricket. His insigh ul mind has never ceased to amaze me. His immaculate analysis of the game brings new perspec ves to one’s mind. His personal rela onships with great sportsmen have given him unique insights into the game and the minds of its masters. His ability to do parallel processing of informa on and convert it into golden nuggets, garnished by eloquent language, is truly astonishing!
His partnership with Anita is a great example of how two people can work together. Her sharp, incisive mind, honed by many years in the adver sing world, is at the heart of the work they do and you can see her touch all along. She is the genuine modern all-rounder and as they advocate in the book, they set up a goal for each other to score.
This book, The Winning Way, is a great colla on of Anita and Harsha’s knowledge of sport.
They have gathered li le pearls of wisdom at the intersec on of sport, business, cinema and life, which can be found on almost every page of this book.
Reading this book is as pleasurable an experience as listening to a commentary—indeed, more so. The language has a beau ful ow and the wri ng is replete with appropriate examples and anecdotes. Their trademark touch is remarkably refreshing.
The Winning Way is an invigora ng read. Understanding the business world through the lens of sport is s mula ng and energizing. The book has expressively and compellingly laid out the ‘ground rules’ of winning!
This book is a great gi to ambi ous aspirants from the corporate as well as the entrepreneurship worlds. I do hope the values and lessons derived get well entrenched in the global leaders of the future.
MUKESH D. AMBANI
March 2011 Mumbai
Why This Book
I believe that in an athlete’s life, winning is important, but, the journey is more meaningful! The constant pursuit of overcoming one’s own limita ons and always challenging the part of you that says you will not or cannot win! I am convinced that everybody has, at some me in their life, faced an equivalent Something that feels insurmountable My, perhaps unsolicited, advice is to enjoy the ride! Let’s face it, roller coasters are far more thrilling than merry go rounds!
Abhinav Bindra
Eight years ago we started a mo va onal series called ‘The Winning Way’. It is a workshop that draws upon lessons from sport and applies them to organisa ons. It talks about champion sports people and winning teams in all kinds of sport, what they do, the prac ces they follow, the habits they cul vate—and it tries to draw parallels with corporate issues and situa ons. ‘The Winning Way’ stems from our deep-rooted belief that the formula for winning remains the same whether you are a sportsman, a musician, a nancial planner, a pharmaceu cal salesman or a housewife. Since the principles behind success remain the same, anyone using them should be able to reach their full poten al and succeed.
Since ‘The Winning Way’ has received several repeat requests from Microso , HSBC, Unilever, Glaxo SmithKline, Aven s, Cadbury’s, Marico, Castrol, Colgate and the like, we have felt encouraged enough to put together this book. It consists of our re ec ons on winning, what cons tutes a winner and, to put it simply, how all of us can win.
The past few years have been a con nuous learning process for us. We have witnessed up close, the rise and fall of several cricket captains, the emergence of Twenty20 as an interes ng innova on in the sport, the metamorphosis of Indian cricket under Ganguly and Dhoni and the domina on of Australia in all forms of the game. We have seen many
sports persons up close through their ups and downs. While doing all of this, through our workshops we have also interacted with stalwarts from industry, many of them passionate followers of sports themselves, and this interac on has enriched the dialogue. This book then, while making no claims about being a complete handbook on winning, is the colla on of our collec ve learning – from the world of sport and the world of business.
In 2004, along with CNBC, we produced a novel programme called Masterstrokes where every episode saw a cricketer and a corporate head discuss various aspects of winning. It reinforced our belief that there was much that managers could learn from sport.
Over the last eight years, we have travelled across countries and ci es, speaking about winning and what it takes to win. This book draws from our work spanning close to 300 sessions for 150 companies across almost all sectors. There were old economy companies trying to cope with market changes and simultaneously, with a changed, new genera on; there were companies that had issues arising from growth and globalisa on; some were reeling under the burden of their own growth and some companies were in businesses so new that they didn’t know how di erent their tomorrow would look from today. The one thread that was common to such diversely-placed businesses was that they were all keen to win.
We also realized as we engaged with these supposedly diverse businesses that whatever your product or service may be, in today’s world where technology and processes can be outsourced, plant and machinery imported and nance acquired very easily, it nally boils down to people. Since these people are drawn from the same common pool, it is only team culture and environment, leadership and vision, a tude towards change and occasional failure, that determine team performance.
The years 2008-09 saw the dark cloud of recession hover over the economy, bringing with it salary cuts, pink slips and tremendous insecurity. This was a huge challenge for everyone, but especially for new entrants to the corporate world who had come in with dreams of a boom me and also for HR managers in sectors like IT and BPOs with a very young employee pro le. Senior managers too told us that they needed to hang on to their jobs since there weren’t that many available for their kind of pro le.
As we made this journey, interes ngly, we found that winning was not this ‘one size ts all’ cloak of invincibility. It wasn’t a trophy or medal that would look just as good in any display or a rose that would smell just as sweet in any boardroom. Winning came in di erent shades and sizes. The ambi ons of companies and their mission statements varied drama cally. The big realisa on was that size does ma er but that size isn’t everything. That you could have goals—and some mes need to have goals—other than being number one. Also, that the problems that winners have are o en bigger and more complicated than those of the also-rans. Over eight years we have seen the business environment changing and along with it we have seen corporate India start to approach success very di erently. With many of the companies, we did an exercise where we asked execu ves to analyse which interna onal cricket team their own team resembled and which one they aspired to be like. In many cases, the rst hurdle was for the execu ves to gure out what exactly was meant by ‘teams’ as new-age organisa onal structures, global repor ng rela onships and other such concepts have given an all new twist to this term. That sorted out, many teams aspired to be Australia, the unques oned leader. But as India started winning, rst under Ganguly and then Dhoni, more and more people rooted for India as the team they wanted to emulate. Interes ngly, it was also the me when L. N. Mi al and Ratan Tata made it to the covers of interna onal magazines.
We have o en wondered if in recent years the state of the Indian economy and the state of Indian cricket seem to be closely correlated. Is it a mere coincidence that Arcelor and Corus happened around the same me as India’s Twenty20 victory in 2007? Would Ganguly and Dhoni be at ease discussing leadership issues with Nandan Nilekani and Sunil Bhar Mi al—on how to mo vate a young India with global dreams and an a tude to match? When we started our careers in 1985, nobody challenged the Levers and the Tatas—quite in the way that Indian cricket was happy with respectable draws against England or the West Indies. Those pre-liberalisa on mes were uncomplicated and young execu ves like us were naïve. Dreams were limited and constraints were more talked about than ambi on. Life was simple, media op ons limited and job security was paramount to most people. There were a few good brands and a few employers people aspired to work with. As young adver sing
professionals, we were account planning, media planning and servicing people all rolled into one. There was no need for specialisa on. When we read retail audit reports and noted small changes in brand share, the boss would ask ‘Grown by volume or value?’ That was our rst lesson, that winning on paper was one thing. Winning in the marketplace, through actual volume growth, was something else.
Today, the stakes a ached to winning are very high, whether in sport or in business. People see the growth of cricket in India mostly in nancial terms, for that has been the most drama c rise. But the world over, the game itself has evolved by leaps and bounds. The contest between bat and ball is the same, but elements like tness, speed and strategy have become cri cal and changed the face of the game beyond recogni on. New variants of the game like Twenty20 have emerged. With corporate entry into franchises, the game has become even more exci ng and challenging.
We are therefore in a strange situa on today. On the one hand, it’s a ‘perform or perish’ kind of pressure situa on. On the other hand, leaders are also constantly being told to nurture and empower their teams, understand the whole person rather than merely assess the young man or woman at the workplace. So, can the hand that cracks the whip also be the reassuring hand on an over burdened shoulder? Winning today is about nding the balance between being encouraging and being ruthless. Unlike in other areas, winning in sport gives a high not only to those who play, but also to people like us who follow sport. It’s a high that is cherished and talked about long a er the event. There are few things in life more inspiring and mo va ng than sport. This book a empts to share some insights on winning through examples from the fascina ng world of reallife champions.
Why 2.0?
At several points in The Winning Way we have advocated a ‘Chalo karke dekhte hain!’ (Let’s give it a shot!)a tude. Embrace opportunity for you never know where it takes you. It is exactly this a tude that prompted us to write The Winning Way the rst me around. People seemed to be ge ng back to reading and a er having conducted about 300 live sessions of The Winning Way, we had quite a few things to share. To be completely honest, we had wondered at the me if an economically-priced paperback would lower the demand for live sessions. But we went ahead nonetheless and in 2016, by which me the book had turned ve years old, sales had crossed 100,000 copies and we were nudging 500 sessions, we were pleasantly surprised to nd that clients who had invited us for live sessions earlier con nued, not just to invite us but also to present copies to par cipants It set us thinking. And around the same me we ran into fellow writer and IIMA alumnus, Ravi Subramanian at a party. Ravi, unlike us has turned almost full me author and has gone on to write many books. Ravi had no idea how many copies we had sold but seemed to think that our book had an advantage; it had longevity. As long as sport con nued to inspire and capture people’s imagina on, The Winning Way would con nue to resonate. While that was a deligh ul thought, we also realized that the world had moved on substan ally and so if the book needed to remain relevant and contemporary (something that is so cri cal in today’s changing world and something we never re stressing on both in the book and in sessions), it needed to be refreshed. Social media really took o a er we released The Winning Way. It gave us a chance to engage with readers. Many wrote in telling us what parts they liked, how they revisited the book from me to me, how it had upli ed them. Business leaders made notes and shared them with their
teams. The response was phenomenal. They obviously took us more seriously than we took ourselves! A big thank you to all of you for partnering with us and enriching The Winning Way.
So here’s The Winning Way 2.0. With two new chapters and many more stories and analyses in all the earlier ones.
Two words that held centre-stage in the last ve years have been innova on and disrup on. Joining a start-up if not star ng one yourself became fashionable and aspira onal. Suddenly, all assump ons were being ques oned and young entrepreneurs became more in demand at conferences than grey-haired folks. The IPL, from being a edgling tournament evolved into a full-blown case study in innova on. As we like to say, in a sense cricket disrupted itself! Not all good players could necessarily adapt while names that weren’t seriously being talked about started fetching fancy price tags at the auc on. While the longer formats con nue to be played, the game has changed forever. The biggest innova on in sport has given us much to learn from and merited an en re chapter.
With more and more leagues like the IPL cropping up, cricketers became freelance, hawking their cra from team to team. They now iden fy more with the role than the side they are playing for. Many pundits seem to think that is going to be how the workplace will look in the future. What does that do to the idea of a team, to team bonding and loyalty?
Gen Y was now becoming a more and more signi cant part of the workforce. They represented a new, con dent India wan ng to take on the world. As wrestler Sushil Kumar observed, ‘Earlier athletes went to par cipate in the Olympics, now they go to win medals.’ While cricket con nued to remain the biggest draw, sports like badminton, wrestling and shoo ng saw new champions and a lot more interest. It was heartening to see people cancelling social commitments to watch P. V. Sindhu and Dipa Karmakar in the Olympics nals.
While more champions emerged, we were shocked to see the fall of some of yesterday’s heroes like Lance Armstrong and to an extent, Tiger Woods and the ban on teams like Chennai Super Kings and Rajasthan Royals. Match- xing raised its ugly head but we have seen more reform than ever before.
It is always distressing when the reason for a fall is not related to performance. It makes you wonder if all their earlier achievements now amount to nothing. It makes you think about success di erently. We have put down some of our thoughts in the chapter ‘What price, winning?’
Despite the aberra ons, sport con nues to be one of the most posi ve and inspiring forces of our mes. In many ways it mirrors society and shapes lives. It gives joy and hope while uni ng people and na ons. There is so much that one can learn from playing and watching sport. We have tried our best to share this with you.
The Business of Winning
An athlete cannot run with money in his pockets. He must run with hope in his heart and dreams in his head.
Emil Zatopek
Television, the greatest ally of sport, creates drama c images of adrenalinfuelled athletes making a courageous, even fran c, race towards victory. There are few sights more moving than victory, or brave defeat, or indeed heroic e ort. Remember Sachin Tendulkar braving the sandstorm and the opposi on at Sharjah in 1998, or Anil Kumble bowling with a broken jaw in An gua in 2002, or Misbah-ul-huq down on the ground a er having tried so hard in the rst World Twenty20 championship in 2007? Or indeed Virat Kohli straining to pull o an impossible win at Adelaide in 2014!
But winning and losing are no more than a step in a much longer journey; a crucial step, but just one step. Teams that journey be er take that step be er, far more easily. Teams that ounder and lose their way in between may reach the nish line, but in all likelihood, with someone ahead of them.
So why do some teams win more o en than others? Why are some teams more mercurial, capable of astonishing performances one day and appalling ones the next? Is there a formula to winning that only some possess? Or is it out there for everybody to follow but only some are inclined to reach out for it? Is there a culture to winning? If there is, why do some teams embrace it with passion while others merely look at it from a distance?
The Winning Cycle
The ideal situa on for teams would be to search for that o en elusive cycle of winning. The good news is that it exists maybe more like Boyle’s Law, with condi ons a ached, than like the basic laws of mathema cs that are rigid and therefore, more universal! Many teams around the world seem able to create such a cycle and keep it going.
Good players like playing in winning teams and as teams create an aura around themselves, youngsters dream of being part of the legacy. Inevitably therefore, winning teams a ract the best talent and because they create a climate where talent is allowed to ourish, players get be er faster and that contributes to winning more o en. Manchester United, Real Madrid and the Los Angeles Lakers, for example, seem to have created that cycle. Australia’s cricket team seemed able to do it … and when we were passing out of IIM-A in the mid-eigh es, Hindustan Unilever (then known as Hindustan Lever) had a similar aura. The best graduates went there, they learnt faster and it became a breeding ground for new corporate leaders. As a result, a day into the placement season we looked at the guys who had made it there with a mixture of awe and confusion. They were one of us but suddenly seemed to be a couple of inches taller!
When asked what creates this aura, Ni n Paranjpe, then MD and CEO, Hindustan Unilever Limited (HUL) elaborated, ‘First and foremost is the capacity to demonstrate that you can win consistently. But that is not
enough. You could win and s ll not have the aura. And that is because of how you go about it. One aspect of that is the means you use to win, the values you demonstrate. The second aspect is how you are seen by others whether you are a thought leader, whether you have a clear point of view about the future well before the others. The success that you thus achieve feeds on itself. But winning today is not enough. You need to win today and tomorrow.’1
That tomorrow can look di erent from today is truer now than ever before. When change comes, it can shake even the biggest and the strongest and can have repercussions on established ins tu ons like what the T20 format has done to the other forms of cricket or what startups are doing to corporate giants. We asked one of our nephews who recently quit a job with a Big Four accoun ng rm to join a start-up, how di cult it was to chuck a fancy salary, and a visi ng card, for something that was a li le more than an idea. The young man just smiled and shook his head and said, ‘Very easy!’ Today Google is the most a rac ve employer for Gen Y— a company that not only provides the best facili es at the workplace but also the best environment and encouragement for aspiring entrepreneurs. It presents a major challenge to organisa ons and especially to managers who have become very good at doing things a certain way. To illustrate this, in the context of T20 cricket, a ball on a perfect length just outside o stump, a good ball in test cricket, becomes an easily hi able ball in T20. And so a bowler has to cast aside an old de ni on of a good ball for a di erent form of the game. Skill in one form isn’t an indicator of success in another.
In corporate India where movement is much freer than it is in predominantly inter-country sport, companies seek to be employers of choice almost as much they seek market share. They know that if you create the right environment, talent will ourish. Organisa ons rarely have to tell talented, driven players to perform. More o en, they just need to make them feel good. Sourav Ganguly would never have had to go to Sachin Tendulkar and say, ‘Sachin, please, we need a y from you. The team really needs it!’ Tendulkar probably wants to score that y, or hundred, more than anyone else, but if the atmosphere in the dressing room is not conducive, his mind is likely to be full of nega ve thoughts, as
indeed it can be in organisa ons that employ ambi ous men and women. When companies start becoming completely goal-centric and forget that it is people who produce results, they struggle. Just as players in good teams enjoy going to compete, so should people enjoy going to work. This is only one reason why the human resource func on is such an important aspect of winning teams! Human resource management becomes even more important during tough mes, promp ng N. R. Narayana Murthy to remark, ‘At Infosys we say at 9.00 a.m. when every one of our people is working, the marketcap may be whatever it is, 15 or 16 in these tough days, but at 6.15 or 7.00 p.m. or maybe 9.00 p.m., when the last of us has gone home, the marketcap is zero.’2
In his wonderful book, The Winner Within, the former coach of the Los Angeles Lakers, Pat Riley, writes of the great bonding in the team that helped in winning the NBA tle in 1980. However, towards the end of the season a young man called Magic Johnson, soon to take the world by storm, came o the subs tute bench and played a leadership role. At the start of the next season the team got drawn into the rivalry, par ally media created, between Johnson and the erstwhile star Kareem Abdul Jabbar. A ba le of one-upmanship can be good in a team up to a point, since a player’s individual score contributes to the team score anyway. Beyond a point, the objec ve can be to outdo one another rather than do what is best for the team and that can be disastrous for morale and results. The Lakers, now a team in disarray, made one of the fastest exits a defending champion has made going out in the rst round of the playo s in 1981. Two match-winners had collided and taken the team down with them, when a harmonious environment might have had the two champions standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
What Causes Winning Cycles to Break
O en discord can be produced by players who put individual goals ahead of what is in the interest of the team. Such players are not too di cult to spot. The forward who looks for the drama c goal from an impossible angle rather than slide it to an unmarked teammate; the batsman who slows down in quest of a hundred in a one-day interna onal and ends up
cos ng his team an extra twenty runs; the publicity-seeking boss who claims credit for a great product launch. While it is vital that players, medical reps, real-estate sales execu ves, anyone really, have personal goals for we would be robots without them, there are mes when teams get into trouble when a collec on of such strictly individual goals derails the team ethic.
So as you can see, winning cycles can break if there is discord, or if young blood, instead of compe ng, stays on the bench for too long. If there is no room for fresh talent, teams can stagnate in performance and in thought. Players need to be challenged all the me, it is what keeps them hungry and excited, and like nature, organisa ons must have mechanisms not only for nurturing but also culling. Australia remained strong because they had a very rigourous, almost brutal, exit policy. When Ian Healy wanted to nish in front of his home crowd, he was told he couldn’t because Adam Gilchrist was ready. Steve Waugh wanted to nish his career with a win in India in 2004 but was told he wasn’t going to stay that long. At the rst sign of decline in Gilchrist, the word must have gone out too. When Wayne Rooney and Cris ano Ronaldo arrived at Manchester United, Ruud van Nistelroy was bid goodbye and Ryan Giggs was found more o en on the bench than in the eld. When young players realize they are ge ng an opportunity because of a stringent exit policy, they also know that they can’t linger when their me comes.
Too o en teams spend me retaining talent, whereas culling it when the me comes is a ruthless, but just as necessary, way of keeping a winning cycle going. When teams dither, hanging on to players because of sen ment or as a reward, they run the risk of ge ng stuck with a lot of players on the declining side of a product life cycle curve and end up losing a lot of players simultaneously. Also, the message going out to the younger replacements is that the individual ma ers more than the team. That is where Australia has been good over the years; nurturing players and backing them to the hilt while, at the same me, recognising the need to create hungry teams. In contrast, the general feeling was that Jayasuriya and Kapil Dev were allowed to hang around a bit longer than was necessary.
The manner in which an organiza on handles the exit or re rement of its stars tells us a thing or two about its team culture and to what extent it
allows the cult of the individual to ourish. Saying goodbye to legends always involves a great deal of emo on and teams that have had a Tendulkar, a Lara or a Steve Waugh be an integral part of them for so long, would struggle to come to terms with a me without them around. Interes ngly, the BCCI in a fanboy moment declared that Sachin alone would take a decision on his re rement (con nue to play as long as he wished to). It would be interes ng to debate how di erently Cricket Australia or indeed any of India’s large corporate giants would have handled the re rement of one of its stalwarts.
In a booming economy, when employees move around with o er le ers in their pockets, companies run the risk of losing their best people while the ‘bo om quar le’ for lack of other opportuni es remains in the company. If this process carries on for a couple of cycles, even if you replenish the team through good, external hires it could seriously lower the standard of the team and that too at a much higher cost. No wonder HR managers have coined the term ‘posi ve a ri on’—happy to see the bo om leaving, making way for be er performers.
Another issue that arises when the best leave and the lowest performers get le behind is that those who stay in the company longest (not out of choice!) start believing that they are the most loyal and in fact the custodians of the brand making it di cult for them to accept nega ve feedback. The only way out therefore is regular and systema c culling and replacing with fresh talent from outside. There are s ll the public sector companies and some benevolent private sector employers who con nue to boast that they don’t sack anyone but in today’s compe ve world they will need to cull to be performance-driven.
A steady in ow of fresh and young talent becomes potent only when that talent is encouraged to think and is empowered to express their views. McKinsey makes it obligatory for its young managers to ‘agree to disagree’. Ge ng people to express their views leads to greater accountability. Once a decision is taken and the whole team comes on board, it is di cult to pass the buck. Bharat Puri, former MD of Cadbury India Ltd. believes that great communica on is a hallmark of winning teams and that depends on whether it is the organisa on’s culture to promote open communica on.3
There might be shi s in technology, or demographics, or government policy as well that could cause winning cycles to break. With the entry of Amazon and Flipkart, it became unviable for brick-and-mortar bookstores like Borders and Crossword. The inability to see the arrival of a ordable dual SIM phones arrested Nokia’s great journey. In sport, great Test teams could look out of place in a Twenty20(T20) environment for example. Players born into an atmosphere of not le ng a bowler get them out discovered that they had to play with a di erent set of values; that being out a er bel ng a quick 30 was more valuable than denying a bowler a wicket and making 35 in 50 balls. In such a situa on, teams can look dated and in desperate need of newer players with more contemporary skills. At other mes, you may need to change coaches, or for that ma er consultants, who might be stuck in a me capsule. When T20 cricket rst arrived, the players hadn’t played it, but coaches hadn’t experienced it either. So their tradi onal role, which was to impart knowledge based on their own experience, was under threat. To give a slightly di erent example, when hockey went the astro-turf way, with hard hi ng and quick movements, India’s coaches were s ll stuck on grass, trying to play a beau ful, dribbling and skills-oriented but obsolete game!
Some mes teams that win consistently at one level nd it di cult to win at the next level. This inability to take the game to the next level or raise the game could be talent-related or simply a result of being content at remaining a big sh in a smaller pond and not really aspiring for a bigger pond. If good is good enough, why bother about ge ng to great?
So as we have seen, teams need to cull with the same intensity with which they need to nurture. The best teams are those that back their players all the way, but when they nd that players can no longer contribute for various reasons, (becoming irrelevant is but one of those), they don’t waste me in le ng them go.
Iconic brands, otherwise, might end up becoming ‘dad’s brands’ and we saw that when India’s economy was opened up and became market driven. Companies that had thrived on licenses and monopolies and didn’t really care about the customer, virtually perished. For a long me the Indian twowheeler market was dominated by the scooter and when we were young, bikes were for the somewhat reckless, wannabe young men. Scooters had stepneys in case you got a at, while bikers didn’t care too much about
these things. The scooter was a solid middle-class possession and Bajaj was the god who could deliver one to you. Waitlists stretched for ten years and so Bajaj really didn’t need to compete with anybody. Then Hero Honda started a revolu on—riding a scooter became terribly passé, you didn’t get at tyres anymore and Bajaj was forced to compete. The iconic Rahul Bajaj gave way to a younger genera on who manufactured motorcycles which competed admirably with Hero Honda. Bajaj culled in me or else they could have ended up with the equivalent of classy Test players in a T20 team.
While Bajaj was able to re-establish the cycle, leading camera companies were unable to prevent the advance of the cell phone that took photographs. A drama c change in technology broke the winning cycle for them as it did for Australia in the early years of T20 cricket.
Apart from such major changes there are others than can cause a winning cycle to break. Teams can some mes take their foot o the pedal, lose the focus on winning and let faults build up (while they are winning) un l they become cri cal and almost impossible to conceal. Some people believe that Colgate-Palmolive fell into this trap in the late nine es when they let HUL ou lank them for a while with the launch of the Pepsodent and Close-Up brands which were targeted speci cally at youth. As it turned out, it was just the wake-up call Colgate needed to return strongly. Indeed, in the early days of their long associa on, Colgate-Palmolive’s brief to their adver sing agency Redi usion was—‘Don’t change anything.’ One got the impression that Colgate-Palmolive didn’t exactly know which part of their winning formula was working and so didn’t want to change anything for fear of removing the successful elements. We have also heard of businesses that lost energy and enthusiasm a er the ini al excitement was over and they got into the consolida on phase. Middle-order batsmen have a di erent role to play and need to leverage the great start provided by the openers.
Some mes good teams can take winning for granted, delude themselves into thinking they merely need to turn up to win; they let the arrogance remain but let the work ethic dwindle. There was always a suspicion that this was the case with the teams that followed the great West Indies ou its of the late seven es, eigh es and early nine es; the arrogance remained, the work ethic vanished!
To prevent teams from star ng to think that they have ‘arrived’, Deep Kalra, founder and CEO, MakeMyTrip.com, (himself reinven ng his company a er a heady start) suggests that one think of success as a moving target. As he puts it, ‘The trick is tell yourself every day that all this “success” business is rstly rela ve … it helps to look at other companies (in his case such as Apple, Facebook, Google and Amazon), or the entrepreneurs behind them and secondly, that success is mercurial … it can go as soon as it comes. Especially once you have public market stock.’4
Winning cycles, we think are ge ng shorter. Earlier, number 1 brands had a longer run at the top. Bajaj and then Hero in two-wheelers, Philips in electricals, Rajesh Khanna and then Amitabh Bachchan in lms ruled in their categories for several years. Now trends keep changing and most categories have ve or six brands closely compe ng with each other. 2015 already saw the return of scooters; making up for 30 per cent of the twowheeler market led by Honda. It’s no longer lonely at the top!
To return to winning. Probably the biggest reason some teams win more o en than others is that they know how to win. Many years ago, Michel Pla ni, one of the nest football players in the world, said the team that would win the soccer World Cup would be the team that knew how to. You might sco at this simplis c statement. On close examina on, you’ll probably come around to the conclusion that there is a lot of truth in it.
Why Some Teams Can’t Keep the Winning Cycle Going
Teams that don’t win very o en, invariably don’t know what to do when placed in a winning posi on. They freeze. They choke. As do teams that are so obsessed with the idea of winning that they grow tense and o en stop thinking when a calm mind would have taken them home. Maybe there is a story then behind South Africa’s misadventures in the World Cup. A er a drama c re-entry to interna onal cricket in 1992, they o en found themselves in winning posi ons and threw the win away; never more obvious than in the drama c 1999 World Cup semi- nal when they had ed the score and needed only a single from four balls. First, Allan Donald charged out for a non-existent single and almost ran himself out and then Lance Klusener, who was hi ng the ball wherever he wanted to, hit the
ball and ran. Donald didn’t. The two players froze, with victory wai ng at their doorstep.
The fear of winning can some mes be greater than the fear of losing! That is why winning a Test series against Australia in 2008 was seen by South Africans as being as important as winning the rugby World Cup on a drama c night in 1995; the beast, which for so long was an annoying tenant, was nally o their back. Yet, when it came to cricket World Cup events, the tenant inevitably reappeared. For a team with an outstanding win percentage in bilateral series, they con nued to choke in mega world events. As a consequence, their obsession with ge ng results at mes derailed the performance that could get them there in the rst place.
We saw that in the World Cup of 2015 too when South Africa stormed through to the semi- nals before the familiar demons returned to choke them. We saw that too with Pakistan whose record against India in World Cup games, as opposed to normal bilateral or mul -country tournaments, is di cult to believe. When asked about it, Shoaib Akhtar, himself part of a couple of derailed campaigns, said they thought too much about the game, suddenly planned di erently whereas their natural Ins nct might have taken them home. New Zealand too, played breathtaking, fearless cricket, all the way to the nal and then, all of a sudden, seemed a di erent side. Maybe the fear of the big day had arrived for them too.
A young player growing up in that otherwise excellent South African side would have inherited the tension associated with winning on a big day. On the other hand, a young man learning his trade in Australia’s awesome teams through the mid-nine es and the rst decade of the new millennium, would have seen how senior players were focused on winning. A young man like Michael Clarke, sharing the dressing room with the likes of Shane Warne, Glenn McGrath, Ricky Pon ng, Mathew Hayden and Adam Gilchrist would have learnt how to win and how to close matches, as part of his grooming in interna onal cricket. An equally talented young man like Mohammed Ashraful of Bangladesh, growing up in a losing environment, could never have learnt the discipline of winning. Self-belief is an essen al aspect of development and if you are not winning, you’ll never acquire it. We are sure our friends in HUL, many of whom have gone on to have outstanding careers, will have a similar story of learning to tell. As indeed will companies that failed to close deals; either because they
thought they already had them in the bag, or because they didn’t quite know what to do at that crucial last stage.
In 2006, Australia went to Bangladesh at the end of a very long and ring season. The players were exhausted (Bre Lee famously said there was no fuel in the tank, only fumes), they wanted to be home and it seemed a rare occasion to see an Australian team wan ng to put its feet up rather than play cricket. They were not as intense as they normally were and maybe took things for granted. (Another vital truth about sport and live television is that if you take things for granted it can be quite unforgiving.) At the end of the rst day, Bangladesh were 355 for 5, a situa on that was en rely unexpected and one they had scarcely found themselves in before. To our astonishment, their captain Habibul Bashar said at the press conference later in the evening that if they scored another hundred runs they would be ‘safe’. We were astounded but you can understand where Bashar was coming from. If, all your life, you have aspired not to lose, being ‘safe’ is an accomplishment.
The next day they had Australia down at 145 for 6 and Adam Gilchrist was at the press conference. ‘We’re in a bit of a hole and need to gure out how to win from here,’ he said, and in that moment, you could see the di erence between the two sides. The underdogs, through years of defeat, were unaware that they were in a winning posi on. Opportunity had knocked on their door, they didn’t recognize it, because they weren’t ready for it. The champions, on the other hand were always moving ahead, they were focussing on victory. It came as no surprise when Australia won, despite the fact that they had defeat staring them in the face on more than one occasion during the course of the match. Bangladesh was le wondering whether it could have been a turning point in their cricke ng history! This is why it is o en said that to be a champion, you need big match temperament.
You’ll nd too that organisa ons that can’t quite ‘close matches’ spend the rest of their lives wondering what might have been and ge ng frustrated when they nd that the world doesn’t really have me for their kind. Quite apart from this example, you’ll nd that good teams are able to put the past behind them and focus on the present; to accept the situa on as given and not grieve over what might have been. A couple of youngsters in the Rajasthan Royals team that won the rst IPL said their captain Shane
Another random document with no related content on Scribd:
Instantly every chief cocked his rifle, and stared into the gloom from whence the shot had proceeded.
That the bullet was intended for Jack’s brain was patent to all, but Dick’s action had preserved the red desperado’s life for the scaffold.
The savages drew back from the fire, and a moment later Jack was sneaking toward the hidden enemy.
The formation of the Lava-Beds admitted of a thousand and one admirable concealments for a foe, and every cave could boast of a score of narrow, rocky corridors, many of which would not admit of the passage of a fox. Through one of the latter the bullet had found its way to the brain of Badger Dick, and Jack soon gave over the search, and turned into a larger corridor. This led him into the air, and, looking up, he saw the stars that looked down upon settlers abandoning their homes, all for fear of the knives that he and his merciless followers were wielding so fatally.
The fatal shot had been fired by one of McKay’s Indians, perhaps by the giant half-breed himself, and the Modoc chief was bent upon finding the slayer.
The Rangers of the Lava-Beds, a title which had been gained by McKay’s band of Warm Spring Indians, were scattered about the basaltic rocks, watching the movements of the Modocs, and equally eager to shoot as to spy. They had proved of much annoyance to Jack during the war, for they were versed in savage warfare, and Donald McKay could pit cunning against cunning, with a readiness that irritated the conspirators.
About Mouseh all was still.
He lay among the rocks listening intently, and watching for shadows against their whitish sides.
For several moments he had been debating whether to proceed further, and was on the point of deciding to return to his chiefs, when a slight noise attracted his attention.
With his finger on the trigger of a new Spencer rifle, he turned his head, when a dark form leaped over the flat rock upon which the red
brigand’s arm rested, and he went to the ground beneath the onslaught.
A glance would have told the spectator that the new foe could not cope with the Modoc tiger, and that he could hope for victory only in agility, and quick, sure blows.
But these the latter seemed unwilling to bestow; for he beat the Indian’s head against the rocks until he deprived him of his senses.
“Now,” the victor muttered, triumphantly. “I’ve caught the biggest devil of them all; but I’m somewhat like the man who drew the elephant—I don’t know what to do with him. Shall I kill him? No; he must die by other hands than mine. But how can I get him away from here?”
Thus commenting, the youth, a white man, though clad in Indian garments—proceeded to bind his “elephant,” whom he had recognized by the two gold stars on the shoulder and was midway in his task when a low “call,” ten feet below and slightly to his right, caused him to pause.
With his hands on the cords he listened, and at last answered the call.
Then he saw a dark figure approach with the movements of a lazy lizard; but the youth drew his knife through fear.
“Cohoon,” he ventured, at length, in a cautious tone.
“Evan,” replied the figure, and a moment later the captor of Captain Jack had a valuable assistant in the person of a Warm Spring Indian, who is destined to play no inferior part in the intricacies of our romance.
“Jack!” exclaimed the Warm Spring scout, gazing down into the captive’s face.
“Yes, Cohoon; I did not dream of catching this devil to-night. Where’s Donald?”
“Down by Black Creek.”
“Any of the boys near?”
“All away.”
“Then we must take care of the elephant ourselves. Here, tie these legs while I press them together Draw the rope between them, that’s it. Heavens!”
Well might he utter this ejaculation, for Captain Jack, in one second, had drawn his legs to his chin, and as suddenly had straightened them out again.
Cohoon, struck in the breast by the moccasined feet, went flying over the rocks, and the youth threw himself upon the Modoc again before he could gain his feet.
“I’ll finish you now, devil!” he cried, and the knife shot aloft. “Curse you, Captain Jack—”
The Modoc rose to his feet as though there was no impediment to such action, and the next minute the youth found himself held at arm’s length by the chief of the scarlet rebels.
Captain Jack had not spoken once during the melee, nor did he speak now.
He seemed at a loss how to dispose of his captive.
He could drive the knife to his heart, or hurl him over the cordon of rock that surrounded the mouth of the corridor, and the soldiers would pick him up some time, a shapeless mass of humanity!
A footstep attracted the Indian. Was Cohoon returning?
Jack thought he was; so, raising the young white scout above his head, he stepped upon a rock that elevated him several feet, and bent his body for the death-fling.
But at that moment the figure which had occasioned the noise sprung forward, and caught the chief’s arm.
With a low cry of astonishment the Modoc left the rock, and lowered the scout.
“Spare him for me, Mouseh,” said the new-comer, who was clad in the rough garments of the frontiersman. “I’ve got a score to settle
with this chap. Look here, Evan Harris, do you know me?”
As he put the question, he whirled Jack’s captive about, and leaned forward until their faces almost touched.
The scout gazed into the triumphant eyes for a moment, and then started back.
“Great Heavens! is it you?” he cried. “I thought you were dead!”
The new-comer laughed.
“Were I dead, I would surely not be here,” he said. “Evan Harris, I would not have missed this meeting for all the gold in California. I believe there’s a slight difficulty existing between us. We’ll settle it tonight, yet. Now, Mouseh we’ll go to the braves.”
Captain Jack picked the scout up again, and bore him into the corridor.
It was midnight now.
After a while the Modoc again strode into the cave with his captive, but the borderman did not follow.
Where was he?
His disappearance puzzled the scout, nor did he come while they waited, seemingly, for him.
All at once a woman glided into the cave, and as she rose erect in the firelight, the chiefs uttered a name:
“Artena!”
She started slightly when her eyes fell upon the captive scout; but recovered a moment later, and advanced toward the group.
“What news does Artena bring from the lodges of the blue-coats?” asked Jack. “She did not stay long with them, so she must have seen something important.”
“She has; the soldier with the big beard—”
Her sentence was broken by the sudden appearance of an Indian, whose voice filled the cavern.
“Arrest Artena,” he cried. “She is a snake in the grass—a traitress of the deepest dye!”
The denouncer stood in the center of the cave, and pointed a quivering finger at the Indian girl.
She did not stir, but looked the Indian squarely in the eye, as her lips shot in his face these words:
“Baltimore Bob is a liar!”
CHAPTER III.
“GIVE ME ’REESA!”
“Something must have happened to the girl. She was to have been here in one hour, and here I have waited two. It’s after midnight now. I’ll wait another ten minutes, and then I’ll go and see what’s up.”
The low sounds proceeded from a dark spot near three hundred yards from the mouth of the cave wherein we have just introduced the renowned Captain Jack to the reader, and the voice was that of Kit South.
Undiscovered, they had found their way—the scout and Artena—to the spot occupied by the former, and the girl spy had boldly proceeded to the lair of the Modoc tiger, for the purpose of luring him thence, that he might be kidnapped after the daring plan they had formed.
Artena, as the reader has heard her aver, was a Modoc.
Prior to the commencement of hostilities between the Indians and the Government, she was unknown to the blue-coated defenders of the latter; but when Donald McKay offered our General the services of his Warm Spring Indians, she came forth, and offered herself as a spy.
Her tribal relations to the Modoc chief was a poor recommendation in the eyes of Canby; but, upon the earnest solicitation of Cohoon, the Warm Spring scout, seconded by McKay, she was installed in the dangerous office of spy, and at once became of great value to the troops.
She persisted in calling herself a Warm Spring Indian, when all knew, from her features, that she was a full-blooded Modoc.
For weeks she had played a dangerous double role. Leaving Jack’s camp at the dead of night for the purpose, as she would tell that
worthy, of gaining information concerning the movements of the army, she would find her way to Canby or Gillem’s head-quarters, and open her budget of news about the designs of the Modoc rebel. It was Artena who proposed the kidnapping of Captain Jack, and this bold movement found a response in the breast of Kit South, who believed that, deprived of their chieftain, the Modocs would not hold out longer.
After a lapse of ten minutes, the scout rose to his feet and glided toward the cave, with whose labyrinths he had been familiar for years.
Artena’s protracted absence boded ill for her safety, and the giant scout proceeded with caution.
“The devils have caught ’Reesa and killed the old woman!” he grated, through clenched teeth, as he crawled over the lava rocks. “I never thought they would strike so high as Lost River; but there’s no telling how far a Modoc will go for a scalp. I’d like to get ’Reesa from ’em to-night, but guess I can’t. So—hello! here’s a hole! Wonder where it leads to?”
The scout had paused at the mouth of a dark corridor which led, seemingly, far into the bowels of the earth.
“Now let me study a minute,” he murmured. “There’s a black hole hyarabouts that leads over the cave where I s’pect Jack is. I’ve crawled it afore, and I ought to tell now whether this is the one or not.”
Then, for several moments, he busied himself with examining the rocks at the mouth of the corridor, when, satisfied that he was on the right trail, he drew his hunting-knife and advanced.
He had gained the inner portal of the black passage, when he became aware that he was followed.
Instantly he paused and listened.
Sure enough, an Indian was creeping after him.
“Curse your red skin,” he hissed, hugging the black wall, as, knife in hand, he awaited the foe. “I’ll settle your hash. A little further, my boy; a little further, if you please.”
Nearer and nearer came the Indian, in the Cimmerian gloom, and all at once the scout’s left hand shot outward, and luckily griped a crimson throat.
But a second later he relaxed the grasp, and whispered a name.
“Cohoon?”
“Kit,” came the reply.
“I knew ye by yer necklace of bear-claws, boy,” continued Kit, in a low tone. “By George! if it hadn’t been fur them, there’d be a dead Indian hereabouts. Where’ve ye been, Cohoon?”
“Spying all ’bout,” answered the savage. “Evan and Cohoon catch Mouseh; but he git ’way. He kick Cohoon ’way down over rocks, and Indian lay there long time.”
Kit South uttered an ejaculation more forcible than polite.
“Where’s Evan now?”
“That’s what Cohoon want to know.”
“You leave him with Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Been back to the place, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Any blood there?”
“No blood.”
“Funny, deuced funny,” said Kit, musingly. “I guess Jack got the best of him. Artena’s got into a fix also, I opine.”
Cohoon started violently, and in the darkness griped the scout’s knife arm.
“Modoc call Artena spy?” he asked.
“Don’t know; fear so,” and then in a low tone Kit narrated the kidnapping plot.
“Mouseh keep Artena for something,” said Cohoon, who appeared to take a great deal of interest in the squaw spy. “Was Kit going to hunt her?”
“Yes.”
“Then come. This black place look down into Mouseh’s cave, by ’m by.”
The route over which white and red crawled was fraught with dangers, for the subterranean portion of the Lava-Beds is honeycombed, and at any moment they were liable to be precipitated into some dark place from which escape might be impossible.
“I guess nobody will ’sturb our hosses,” said the scout. “We left them down by the Black Creek—that is, above the stream, on the bank.”
“Modocs all in caves,” said Cohoon. “If Warm Spring Indians find ’em, let ’em be, for they know who left ’em there.”
“But then— Hold, Cohoon, yonder’s a light, as I live.”
They came to an abrupt halt, and caught the glimmer of light far ahead.
“I can’t hear a word,” whispered the scout, after listening awhile. “Every thing’s as still as death. Mebbe the red devils hev left?”
Cohoon shook his head.
“Mouseh still in cave,” he said. “Crawl on, Kit.”
The scout moved forward again, and at length looked down into the Modocs’ cave.
“Now you red devil-slayer of the best General that ever drew a sword,” hissed the scout, forgetting, for a moment, his present position, errand, peril—every thing.
Captain Jack stood before him!
“I’ll end the Modoc war now If we can’t kidnap you, by George, we can—”
He had thrust the muzzle of his Spencer through a perforation, and his eye dropped to the sights, when Cohoon’s hand covered the lock.
Kit drew back and looked at the Indian, who did not speak, but shook his head with a faint smile.
The light of the fire penetrating the chamber above the cave, fell upon the faces of the twain, and also upon their surroundings. Slowly Kit dropped the lock, and threw a look of thanks into Cohoon’s face.
Captain Jack was not alone.
Several other Indians occupied the cave. Where were Artena and Evan Harris? They were not to be seen.
Where, too, was ’Reesa South—the scout’s daughter?
It seemed that the Modocs were evacuating the present cave, as Gillem thought they would proceed to do, and that Jack and a few of his trustiest men, were the last to leave the stronghold. The two friends above kept their eyes fastened upon the red rebel, and his chiefs.
“If Artena is a spy, she shall die,” said Jack. “But Mouseh can not believe all that Baltimore Bob says. Artena has told him much about the blue-coats; he must have more proof of her treason than Bob’s voice. What say the chiefs?”
“I believe Baltimore Bob,” said one. “He must know. We have heard where he has been. Boston Charley votes for death.”
“And Hooker Jim?”
“Death to the traitress!”
Jack turned to the other chief—Scar-faced Charley.
There was a slight gleam of hope in his face. He hoped that the last chief would not pronounce for death.
Mechanically Jack turned and struck the lava wall twice with his hatchet.
The tread of many feet followed, and presently a dozen Indians joined the chiefs.
Artena, pinioned by strong red arms, walked in the van of the party, and near her, with his hands fastened to his side, strode Evan Norris, the young ranger, whose prisoner the redoubtable Jack himself had lately been.
The savage known as Baltimore Bob headed the band, and fastened his eyes upon the Modoc chief as he stepped into the light of the fire.
Jack’s gaze fell to the ground.
“Ask the chiefs,” he said, in a low tone. “Mouseh’s heart is sad.”
Bob turned to the trio of Indians, and his look was answered.
“Artena must die,” said Hooker Jim.
“When?”
“Now!”
“And this young white cur?”
“Is not worth talking about. Of course he dies with Artena.”
“Yes, he dies,” said Jack, starting up as if from a prolonged sleep. “Chiefs, do it quickly; then hasten to the deep cave. We must fight the blue-coats to-morrow. Do not torture Artena; but do as you wish with the white man. After all is over, lay her on the water that rushes under the ground.”
The chieftain glanced at the Squaw Spy and then stepped away.
The eye of Kit South followed him, and again the hammer of his trusty gun was gently pulled back.
“It may be my last chance,” he murmured, and the butt of the weapon struck his shoulder.
Cohoon did not see the movement; his fiery eye was regarding the scenes below
All at once Captain Jack stooped, and Kit South heard him say:
“Too much for White Rose to see. Mouseh take her away.”
As he spoke, the Modoc lifted a girl from the semi-darkened portion of the cavern, and Kit lowered his gun, with a cry of surprise—a cry that startled the savages directly below them.
“’Reesa, by heavens!” he cried. “I never dreamed that that brown heap over yonder was my daughter ’Reesa—Jack—Jack, drop my gal!”
Cohoon turned upon the scout with rising indignation, and reached forth to prevent the action which he saw was about to be performed.
But he was too late, for, rifle in hand, Kit South had leaped into the cave, and was bounding toward the Modoc chief!
“Give me ’Reesa!” he cried, and the next moment, before Captain Jack could comprehend the situation, the mad scout had snatched his child from his arms, and flung him to the ground!
Then the Indians who had started back when the scout suddenly dropped into their midst, recovered from their surprise, and rushed upon him.
“That’s right! come on!” cried Kit, presenting a revolver, which he thrust into their very faces. “I like to shoot dogs, always did; and here’s a chance perhaps to drop a dozen or so.”
But the foremost savages had paused and were looking fearfully into the muzzle of the leveled weapon.
CHAPTER IV. DISCOVERED.
Had Kit South harbored one calm thought just before leaping down among the Modocs, he would have remained with Cohoon.
Certainly it was a jump into the jaws of death, and no doubt he realized this as he faced the Indians, with leveled pistol, and dared them to advance.
Once or twice he glanced hurriedly upward, as if invoking assistance from Cohoon; but the Warm Spring Indian did not show himself, and Kit began to curse him for his cowardice.
“I’ve got ’Reesa, and I’m going to keep her,” he shouted, at the barbarians, “and, more’n that, I want out o’ this place. Break ranks there, and let me through. Captain Jack, I cover your heart.”
The Modoc chief upon recovering from the blow which the scout delivered when he tore his daughter from his arm, bounded to his red brethren, and was among the foremost who faced the backwoods hero. Beyond the ranks of the savages stretched a dark corridor, which eventually, as Kit well knew, led to the top of the Lava-Beds. He had hunted the bear among these basaltic rocks, until he gained the sobriquet of Lava-Bed Kit.
“I’ll end the Modoc war in just one minute,” he continued, with stern resolution, still keeping his eye fastened upon the redoubtable Jack. “I mean business now. Let me pass your greasers.”
Without a word, Mouseh stepped aside, and waved his hand to his braves as he executed the action.
Just then a low rumbling noise fell upon the ears of all, and a minute later an explosion followed. The chiefs looked into each others’ faces.
Gillem’s mortars were shelling the Lava-Beds!
“Go, white scout,” said Jack, eager to rid himself of the threatening pistol, and as eager to vacate the cave which might soon become untenable for them. “Take your pale girl; Mouseh did not intend to hurt her. He was just going to carry her away from the bloody work of the Modoc knife.”
Obedient to their chief’s command the Indians stepped aside, leaving an unobstructed path to the corridor.
Kit, with his precious burden, stepped forward.
He glanced pityingly at Evan Harris and Artena; but felt that he could not aid them.
He could save his daughter only, and she was dearer than all the world to him now—for he had no one else to love since the fiends had butchered his wife.
Despite the expression of pity, something very like a smile of triumph lurked about his lips, and he walked erect, keeping his revolver leveled at the breast of the Modoc rebel, who returned his look with silent promises of future vengeance.
Explosion followed explosion in rapid succession, and the scout accelerated his movements, for he feared that a shell might accidentally find its way into the cave, and work destruction among its inmates.
He faced the savages when he reached the end of the line, and began to “back” toward the corridor.
At the moment when the daring scout was about to cross the threshold of the passage, a half-hissing, half-grating sound startled every one, and the next second a shell rolled into the cavern! A cry of horror burst simultaneously from a dozen throats, as several Indians sprung forward and seized the deadly missile.
A moment’s scramble for the shell followed, when the most stalwart of the trio held it aloft, and began to strike it with his hatchet.
Kit seemed rooted to the spot; but only for a moment.
He sprung back into the corridor, as a pistol-shot reverberated throughout the cave.
In the semi-gloom of the passage a man staggered and groaned once—then sunk to the ground, and the figure of a woman fell with him!
It was Lava-Bed Kit, shot by Baltimore Bob, whose right hand griped a smoking pistol!
A wild shout of approval greeted the treacherous shot, and the exultant Indian leaped toward his victim, hatchet in hand, when the most terrible of explosions shook the cave!
The Indians who stood around the shell reeled from the spot, and he whose hatchet had shivered the cap, was flung to the remotest end of the cave, headless and disemboweled.
The cavern, too, was wrapped in darkness, for a portion of the death-freighted missile had scattered the fire, and groans of pain and terror made the place a very Pandemonium. But this did not last long.
Captain Jack and his principal chiefs luckily escaped injury, and soon a new fire revealed the work of destruction.
Four savages lay dead in the cave, and three others possessed wounds that would soon terminate their existence. The wonder was that the shell did not work greater destruction, and that none but warriors felt its effects.
Baltimore Bob, flung backward against the wall of the cavern, started forward again; but was arrested by a wild cry from Jack. He turned.
“Where’s Artena?” asked the Modoc chief, pointing to the spot occupied by the Squaw Spy a moment prior to the explosion. Artena was missing!
Baltimore Bob looked about the cavern, then turned to his chief again.
“Artena’s been blown to atoms,” he said. “She stood there just a second before the noise.”
Before Jack could reply, another shell dropped into the cavern, and the savages shrunk toward the corridors.
“We must leave this hole,” said Jack. “Blue-coats’ big balls got sharp eyes. They see Modoc here.”
The Indians were not averse to leaving.
Theresa, the scout’s daughter, lay across her father’s body, stunned by the explosion, and Bob snatched her away as he turned to his clansmen again.
“We must go, and that quickly,” he said, in hurried accents. “Charley, pick up yon white dog—quick!”
The Indian addressed—Boston Charley—sprung forward, and lifted the limp form of Evan Harris from the spot to which he had been hurled by the bursting of the shell.
“No use, he’s dead,” he said, glancing from the bloody face to Bob.
“Dead! No, he shan’t be dead!” cried the mad chief. “I’ve got an old score to wipe out with him yet. Dead? no! see, he gasps. Evan Harris, I’m going to have the satisfaction of killing you before I die.”
Sure enough, the young ranger gasped, and opened his eyes convulsively.
His face was covered with blood, and it was difficult to tell the position of his wound. That the exploding shell had injured him was patent to all, and the savages did not pause to see whether the wound was a mortal one.
“Iron balls hurt when they burst,” said Jack, turning from the spectacle of the bloody face, and several minutes later the cave was tenantless so far as animation was concerned.
Two of the wounded Indians had been put beyond misery by Mouseh’s tomahawk, which in this case did a humane service, while the third died without the aid of that weapon.
Near the mouth of the corridor lay the giant form of Lava-Bed Kit, the revolver still clenched in his right hand, and his face, pale as death, turned toward the fire, which burned fiercer than before.
Captain Jack led his band into the passage toward which he had lately sprung, with ’Reesa South in his arms, and the journey underground to the new stronghold began.
Below the surface of the Lava-Beds, as I have said, a perfect honeycomb of dark passages exists. Therefore the savage can retreat from one stronghold to another—miles distant—without once showing his face above the earth. Against such disadvantages our troops were compelled to fight the Indians, and the considering reader has long since ceased to wonder at the prolongation of the war.
Through some of these caves rapid streams make their way, and emerge into daylight, eventually to greet the ocean that laves the Pacific slope.
The underground retreat was made in silence. The sullen roar of the mortars never left the red-skins’ ears, and ever and anon the explosion of the iron missiles sounded dangerously near.
“Here we fight to the death!” said the Modoc chief, in a determined tone, suddenly pausing, and waving the torch above his head. “The blue-coats shall never drive Mouseh from this stronghold.”
Very soon a fire of sage-bush illuminated the interior of a cave, smaller than the one just vacated, but better adapted to a stubborn and successful defense.
“The shells of the big mouthed guns do not reach here,” said Scarfaced Charley, with a grim smile of satisfaction. “We are four miles from the place where the iron killed our braves.”
“Yes, four miles,” said Jack. “Charley, where think you is Artena?”
“Dead!” was the reply. “Shell blow her all to pieces.”
The expression that crossed the Modoc’s face told that he would fain not believe this. Jack could not believe that Artena was the enemy’s
spy, and he would receive her into his confidence again were she to return.
Why should Artena, who was a Modoc, betray her own people?
Mouseh lowered fierce glances upon Baltimore Bob, who had boldly accused Artena of treason, and declared that he had heard her deliver the spy’s message to General Gillem.
His story had occupied the time that intervened between the girl’s entrance into the Modoc stronghold and the arrival of Kit and Cohoon above it; and, as the reader has seen, Jack’s chiefs, none of whom bore Artena any good-will, decided that she should die.
But the fatal shell seemed to have accomplished the task assigned to the tomahawk.
’Reesa (permit us, reader, to call the scout’s child by the pretty nickname which he had bestowed upon her) recovered consciousness before the new fort was reached, and, after a long time, realized her position. She was exercised almost to insanity concerning the fate of her father, and was afraid to question her jailer about him. So she spared her breath, and when she saw the bloodstained face of Evan Harris, she started forward with the cry of “father!”
“Father? he’s not your father!” cried Baltimore Bob, and grasping the girl rudely he flung her away.
She described several mad circles toward the wall, and with a cry of shame for the brutal act, Captain Jack bounded forward to snatch her from the stones.
But he did not succeed, and striking the wall a fearful blow with her head, ’Reesa South sunk to the floor, again bereft of consciousness. Then the red rebel sprung toward the ruffian, and whirled him around until they stood face to face.
“Bob must treat pale girl better,” said Jack, calmly. “If he fling her away any more, he shall leave Lava-Beds.”
An oath shot from the torturer’s lips.
“What is she to you?” he demanded, with flashing eyes. “Does Mouseh stoop from the Generalship of a great war to interfere with the business of one of his spies? The girl is mine! I sent the young bucks to the Lost River, and paid them to bring her to me. So, Mouseh, attend to the conduct of the war, and I’ll attend to my own affairs. I think we understand each other perfectly, now.”
He did not wait for Jack to reply, but turned to the young ranger, who, lying on the ground, had heard with strange emotions the angry words of the twain.
“Get up,” said Baltimore Bob, addressing him. “I want to talk with you.”
Slowly, for the loss of blood had told seriously on his strength, the ranger rose to his feet, and calmly faced the rascal.
“White man, there’s an enemy near who has a blood score to settle with you,” said Bob. “He saved you from the vengeance of Mouseh last night, for, let me tell you that it is now day. Perhaps you can guess who that enemy is. I will summon him hither.”
The Indian turned with a curious smile and had advanced a step toward the corridor, when the youth strode forward, and put forth his hand, for he was unbound.
“Stay!” he said. “I know you. You need not change your garb. You are the white man who arrested the arm of Captain Jack last night. You are the deadliest enemy I have on earth. Let us settle the old score now, and settle it forever.”
“We will!” cried Baltimore Bob, and, as he wheeled, he drew a revolver. “You shot me once for the love of ’Reesa South. Men don’t always kill at fifty paces; but at this distance, ’Van Harris, I am a death-shot, with the revolver. Yes, we’ll settle the old score, and settle it forever.”
With the last word the shining hammer shot back with the fateful clicks that follow such movement, and the would-be-murderer raised his arm.
But, simultaneously with the latter movement, Evan Harris’ right hand shot upward, then forward, and closed on a revolver!
“Who threw him that weapon!” demanded Baltimore Bob, forgetting, in his anger, that he was at the mercy of his foe.
His eye swept the red group as he spoke, but not a lip answered him.
“I’m your equal now, Rafe Todd,” cried the young ranger’s voice. “Come, let us finish this business.”
“I will not!” cried the renegade—“not now, at least,” and then he turned to the Modoc chief.
“Mouseh, you threw him that firearm. You lie if you say you didn’t. You hate me for—I don’t know what. Step out here. Don’t act the coward’s part. I’ll fight you fair.”
The next moment Captain Jack snatched a revolver from Hooker Jim’s hands, and boldly confronted the painted white man.
