December 1, 2009

Alone in the middle

Why cricket, it can be argued, is even more of an individual sport than tennis

For a reflection on cricket, its essential nature, try the intriguing documentary on the footballer Zinedine Zidane, A Twenty-first Century Portrait. Seventeen cameras follow the great Frenchman - and him alone - through the length of a match. There are no embellishments other than interludes of a dreamy background score, sometimes accompanied by subtitles of Zidane's abstract thoughts on the experience of playing. The result is a meditation on the shaolin art of a singular sportsman, and indeed sport.

Zidane is beautiful. His body is a ridiculous mix of strength, speed and litheness. His face is as chiselled and imposing as something on Rushmore. Only a face like his - strong bones, deep creases, the intimation of an uncontainable force - can hold together a whole film, as Daniel Day-Lewis did when he appeared in virtually every scene of There Will Be Blood. He even perspires attractively, without desperation.

Novel as it is watching Zidane, it occurs to you that this sort of compulsive focus on a single player is less unusual in a long, slow sport like cricket. Captains are routinely the subject of visual scrutiny. When the game is getting away from a fielding side you see them losing their cool or their spirit. You see them chiding fielders, glaring at bowlers, throwing their heads back in resignation or trying to look dementedly busy. Sourav Ganguly crinkled his nose, Steve Waugh chewed gum, Ricky Ponting spits into his hands, Graeme Smith makes like a grumpy grizzly bear. It is part of the story.

Conversely, during a collapse, the spotlight burns on the batsmen. A big occasion: Will they be heroes? The fielders are chirping, the pitch is misbehaving, the crowd is abuzz. More than the situation, you are alive to the response of people thrown into the situation. It is why writers from Wodehouse to Pinter have been drawn to cricket.

This is a fundamental point. Cricket and football are both 11-a-side games. Yet cricket is only nominally a team sport. It is cumulative rather than collaborative. Each delivery is an isolated event, a classic one-on-one duel. If anything, it can be argued, this one-on-one is more exaggerated in cricket than in an individual sport such as tennis. When a batsman and a bowler take on one another, the roles of the fielders and the non-striker are solely that of support, making a kind of ceremonial durbar in which the two participants hold forth.

When the game is getting away from a fielding side you see them losing their cool. You see them chiding fielders, glaring at bowlers, throwing their heads back in resignation or trying to look dementedly busy. Sourav Ganguly crinkled his nose, Steve Waugh chewed gum, Ricky Ponting spits into his hands

In every such duel, the individuals stand for their whole team to such a degree that they are the team itself. This, CLR James has written, offers cricket its special dramatic quality. The dramatist, the novelist, aspires to make the individual symbolic of the collective; the structure is given to cricket.

Watching Zidane isolated in the hurly burly of a football game, one senses also the peculiar solitude of the sportsperson. "You can almost decide for yourself what you want to hear," the subtitles say at one point. "You are never alone. I can hear someone shift around in the chair. I can hear someone coughing. I can hear someone whisper in the ear of the person next to them. I can imagine that I can hear the ticking of a watch."

In spite of the "you are never alone", these sentences, especially the ticking of the watch, rather than amplify the sense of surround, suggest a man alone. A footballer must at least be on the move, give position, carry on a continuous interaction with his team-mates. For a batsman the sensory experience of the outside world intruding on a private space is even more intense. Every delivery is a personal rehearsal. Cricketers listen to the voices in their head and try to block them out; the chatter of opposition, and try to block that out; the sounds of the stadium, and block that out. Unlike football, dynamic, fluid, collaborative, there is little scope for recovery. You cannot sprint back 30 yards or rely on a team-mate if you nick a ball. If you're gone, you're gone. You must sit in the dressing room and contemplate, watch others play, a whole different solitude.

The final thing that strikes you is the nature of the physicality of the two sports. Football, with its constant movement, requires a brutal level of general fitness, and it is a contact sport. Cricketers need only be cricket-fit, and it is a non-contact sport (though it doesn't feel that way to anybody who's been bruised by a leather ball). Zidane jogs, he walks, he bides his time, he spits, he pulls up his socks, he makes sudden predatory bursts. At one point he deliberately lets his elbow thwack an opponent. Towards the end of the game he gets involved in somebody else's brawl and is red-carded, all the while stoic and brooding, presaging a famous send-off in the World Cup final a year on.

In cricket, of course, the mere sight of opponents brushing shoulders triggers worries about the end of civilisation. Yet, violent or not, it is the thrill of movement that viewers respond to in sport. An electricity sparks the trance-like narrative whenever Zidane breaks into a run. The sensation is similar to watching a great fast bowler, now resting, now gathering, now building up towards a climax - a climax that may or may not come. And it is this visual suspense that makes sport, particularly in the hands - or feet - of a champion, a cinematic experience.

Rahul Bhattacharya is the author of the cricket tour book Pundits from Pakistan. This article was first published in Mint Lounge

Comments have now been closed for this article

  • Sreekanth on December 2, 2009, 21:33 GMT

    did not feel like finishing the article.. i think the issue itself is seen differently by different people..

  • Siba on December 2, 2009, 10:39 GMT

    Wonderful, Mr Bhattacharya. Dissected to every detail. I always wondered what goes through the mind of a Sachin Tendulkar or a Ricky Ponting when they walked out to bat - the former always walking into an ovation and the latter, sometimes into, boos. Is not the inside absolutely solitary at that point of time? How does it feel?

  • Mina on December 2, 2009, 5:06 GMT

    Beautifully written article. You have expressed my views exactly ! No doubt cricket and football are team sports and the player has to keep that in mind. But the beauty of these 'team' sports, specially in cricket, is that a single player can arrest the attention of the fans. One man can take the game, and our breath away ! In no other sport, is the individual revered as much, as in cricket. And no, not just in India where cricketers are held as 'gods' but all over the cricketing world, respect and admiration is paid to champions. No doubt the greats are supported by their team mates.Partnerships, in bowling or batting along with keen fielding, is the key. But the irony is, that we remember only the one who scores the tons or takes a fifer.And the one who does that with ease and class stands out even more. Like the Bradmans Sobers Richards Khans Gavaskars Sachins Pontings Laras Dravids Warnes Gangulys et al. Sadly, do we remember the loyal soldiers who stood alongside these generals ?

  • Vij on December 2, 2009, 2:49 GMT

    The title implies a comparison between Cricket and Tennis, while the artile blathers on about "footballer" Zidane ... and apparently the author seems to have a man-crush on Zidane (not that there is anything wrong with that).

    Get a grip Mr. B and read it before posting!

  • Arnab on December 2, 2009, 1:09 GMT

    Im wondering, have you seen australia play? Watch them field, bowl or bat, and you will realize that this is a teamsport as long as you have a team that can play that way.

  • fire on December 1, 2009, 21:18 GMT

    "It is cumulative rather than collaborative" - nice way of articulating the subtle variation in team dynamics between cricket and football, both of which are great team games. While there are individual battles on the field in cricket, the comparision to tennis is inappropriate in my opinion. A cricketer should never put himself ahead of the team in pursuit of personal glory, as that could backfire and be detrimental to the team.

  • Balu on December 1, 2009, 19:17 GMT

    Nice article trying to show something out of nothing....yes, for a few moments, cricket might seem like an individual game, the outcome of a delivery being dependent on the ability of that bowler/batsman/fielder and many of the team sports have several of those moments where individual brilliance dictates but still the game needs to be finished as a team and you have to sum the moments of all the players to get the result. hence even 175 may not get the job done when the opponents play as a team. hence called team sport. In games like tennis, one man faces all those moments where his ability decides the outcome of the result....hence is solely responsible for his fate...

  • Srinivas on December 1, 2009, 18:27 GMT

    I disagree. I would argue just the opposite. Batsmen, bowlers play in pairs. Bowlers are supported by his teammates to create pressure. Playing without the support of the other end is not scalable and is not the norm. I think we in India work overtime to make it an individual sport, the article is a case in point.

  • Ajay on December 1, 2009, 18:13 GMT

    Looks like Rahul Bhattacharya tried his hand at poetry for once and fell flat on his face, judging by the responses. We get your love of Cricket Mr.Rahul...but pls, every sport - be it individual or team, has its individual moments when the world seems to zoom in on the one person. Happens even in American Football (by your definition, the most collaborative and high contact sport) - you only had to follow some of the quarterbacks in crunch games. you couldn't have picked a worse contrast than Tennis! What can match the physical beauty of Nadal gutsing it out with Federer, straining every existing and non-existing nerve in his body! or a 37 yr old Agassi making his final attempt at glory trying to prove to the world and more so to himself that he is still worth it?!

  • Arun on December 1, 2009, 15:33 GMT

    Dear Rahul, You should've put Zidane's photo in the article when your article is revolving around him...I just saw my GOD's photo and read the complete article and found nothing related to THE SACHIN...

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