Samir Chopra
An idea whose time may come?
I wouldn't mind seeing games of five-day cricket between two teams whose selections were not limited by national boundaries
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
Yesterday, like many other sports fans, I tuned in to watch Barcelona take on Chelsea in the UEFA Champions League. (Thanks to my work schedule, I watched the game on replay, studiously avoiding reading the scores; this meant staying off my Twitter feed!) As I watched the game, I was reminded yet again of, how, despite being an unabashed fan of nation-based Test cricket, I wouldn't mind seeing games of five-day cricket between two teams whose selections were not limited by national boundaries.
World XI squads are not just a parlor game exercise, of course. Many of them have actually taken the field: in World Series Cricket, the 1971-72 Australia versus World XI encounters, the 1987 MCC versus World XI game at Lord's, and of course the ICC-organized Super Series Test in 2005/2006. (This last 'Test' continues to rankle statisticians by its official status.) The 1971-72 series produced some great individual performances - most notably the 254 by Garfield Sobers that Don Bradman reckoned among the best he had ever seen, and an incredible 8-29 by Dennis Lillee; World Series Cricket also produced some very high-quality cricket, though it is not clear how much of this was produced by the World XI as opposed to the 'national' teams playing. The ICC Super Series Test, unfortunately, was universally derided as a dud.
What seems clear from these experiments is that World XIs brought together for one-off, 'exhibition' encounters tend not to do so well (with some notable exceptions of course). But a multinational outfit given some time to gell could start developing those intangible qualities that ensure the success of a group of individuals. And thus far, the pattern in world cricket has been to pit Nation versus World XI as opposed to Multinational Outfit #1 versus Multinational Outfit #2. Perhaps a series of these encounters could produce some high-quality five-day cricket that would pit the world's best players against each other in an extended examination of their skills.
Full postThe beauty of a catch at slip
Most Dramatic Dismissal: a sharp catch taken at slip in the opening overs of an innings, when the bowling captain has set an aggressive field
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
Many cricket fans are fond of saying that the most dramatic cricket dismissal is one involving a cartwheeling stump, sent flying by a fast bowler. The pristine perfection of the carefully arranged stumps and bails, suddenly, violently disrupted by the irresistible force of the pace man, the stump sent flying dramatically - and now in the modern era, thanks to stump microphones, accompanied by the actual sound of the famous 'death-rattle' - is dramatic indeed.
I would like, however, to submit another candidate for Most Dramatic Dismissal: a sharp catch taken at slip in the opening overs of an innings, when the bowling captain has set an aggressive field for the new ball. Here again, there is a disruption of symmetry: the bowler runs in, the batsman edges, and the ball flies off, only to have its precise geometrical trajectory interrupted by the swooping slip fieldsman. The batsman's head snaps back, as he turns to look at his downfall even as the carefully arranged arc of the slips is radically set in disarray.
And this disturbance is precisely what is most pleasing about this sight: the sharp, dramatic change from the staged display, almost portrait-like, of the fast bowler running in, the slips, sometimes staggered, sometimes not, forming a cordon, the wicketkeeper crouching, the batsman at guard, and then in the space of a second, the ball flies sharply to the slips. There is a rapid transition from equilibrium to disruption. (The celebrations that follow have their particular choreographed beauty at times; sometimes the slip fielder goes down in a heap as the rest of his teammates run to the bowler; sometimes the catcher exultantly throws the ball high.)
Full postThe trials of captaincy: a rookie learns the hard way
Like any good fan, I dish out plenty of advice to captains
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
Like any good fan, I dish out plenty of advice to captains. Indeed, part of the game's central charms is the seemingly endless opportunity to second-guess and blame captains the world over with the benefit of hindsight.
Some modesty and perspective in these matters, of course, can be induced by having actually served as captain in a game of cricket. I've captained a side in a game twice: the first time was back in my college days, when I captained (ahem) Mathematics against Chemistry. We lost. The second, was when I guest-captained my Sydney Northern Suburbs team, the Centrals, in a league game. We lost. Clearly, there is a pattern in there somewhere. I've written on the Sydney game before, so we won't get into that depressing business again. But I want to provide some details of that epic Abstract Symbol Manipulators versus Test-tube Tinkerers encounter to point out a classical failing of captains: the failure to have a genuine Plan B.
As we prepared for our encounter against Chemistry (by that, I mean 'waited'), I thought about how I would go about taking apart Chemistry's batting order when I was in the field. I had a simple plan: I would turn loose our opening bowlers on them and all would be well. We did, in fact, have a pretty decent pair of opening bowlers: two rather awkward, quickish, left-arm bowlers. As far as I knew, Chemistry was chock-a-block full of right-handers, and that seemed like a good sign for us. So, I had it all figured out - cry havoc, and let loose the two lefties. Once the breach in Chemistry's defences had been made, the rest of my forces would pour through, laying waste to the middle-order, and rapidly mowing down the tail. Pure genius, really.
Full postThe significance of 796.358
Many fans should immediately recognize its cricketing significance; if you can't, think a bit before you run to Google it
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
I have now written, on this blog, two posts on "curiously significant numbers." The first, on statistical landmarks; the second, on significant dates in cricket history.
Here is another very significant number: 796.358. (Many fans should immediately recognize its cricketing significance; if you can't, think a bit before you run to Google it.) When it comes to my relationship with cricket, I wonder if any other number has had as much significance as this one, in terms of the anchoring it provided to cricket's history; that number ensured I had formed a well-entrenched set of memories, images and romantic associations with the game before they were exposed to the blow-torch of mass media coverage.
According to the Dewey Decimal system this is the library classification code for cricket. And for that part of my life before I moved to the US, it was the set of numbers that worked as a set of navigational co-ordinates in any library I visited. When I moved to the US, I was disoriented in many ways. One of the most significant ones was switching to the Library of Congress classification system for libraries. Suddenly I was lost; the contours of that land of shelves became mysterious. And of course, even when I figured out the LOC system, there weren't any cricket books to be found.
But for many years before my move to the US, I had used 796.358, most notably, like many other urban Indians at the time, in the British Council Library in Delhi. That venerable institution, then located at the All India Fine Arts Council building on Rafi Marg in New Delhi, and now moved to considerably less impressive facilities at Barakhamba Road, had been a weekend destination for our family for many years, and on each trip, I ran up the stairs, entered through the doors, briskly walked past the curious librarians, and headed straight for the 796.358 shelves. (I also dimly remember 796.3582 but do not recollect which subject heading under cricket was covered by this code). Sometimes I think: What a cliché; public-school educated Anglophone middle-class Indian spends his weekends borrowing four books at a time from the British Council Library. (Let's see if I can break the mould.)
Full postMeeting Rahul Dravid: The soul of a champion
This man simply did not have the airs of a sporting superstar, someone who was rich and famous, and hobnobbed with other cricketing superstars
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
In January 2011, I travelled to Bangalore to meet Rahul Dravid and interview him for the book I was then writing. I intended to write on the changing face of modern cricket, on its response to the introduction of the franchise into a nation-based game, on the challenges Test cricket faced, and on the effects of media and technology on the game. When I thought of which Indian cricketers I would most like to talk to, Dravid's name suggested itself as an obvious choice.
Shortly after I received word that I should go ahead and contact Rahul, I called and spoke briefly with him on the phone. He was unfailingly courteous and helpful, providing detailed directions to his house, even solicitously inquiring whether I knew my way about Bangalore (I didn't, but assured him that I would be just fine).
I arrived at his residence on time, was shown in, and soon our conversation started. Dravid was dressed casually and conducted himself with a polite, relaxed informality that put me instantly at ease, and prompted me to ask all the questions I wanted to. Mrs. Dravid joined us for a few minutes, brought us tea, asked me a few questions about my background, and then left to take care of their boys.
Full postCuriously significant dates: Making history more inclusive
On Tuesday, I attended a talk in the Political Science department at Brooklyn College
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
On Tuesday, I attended a talk in the Political Science department at Brooklyn College. The topic was the relationship between state and federal courts in the domain of immigration regulation. A central landmark in this relationship was the passing of the Chinese Exclusion Act (CEA), which allowed the US to suspend Chinese immigration; the law was finally repealed by the Magnuson Act in 1943. The year in which the CEA was passed was 1882.
As the speaker put a Powerpoint slide up with this information on it, I experienced a reaction similar to that reported in my post on curiously significant numbers; once again, I was in the presence of a curiously significant cricketing number, this time a year.
Landmarks in cricket's history stand out no matter where we run into them. This act of recognition of mine was bound to be instinctive. And sometimes we recognise years run together as cricket seasons; many cricket fans cannot look at 1960-61 without thinking of the Tied Test.
Full postTalking cricket with Americans: Teaching and learning
A few days ago, I sent the final manuscript for my book on the changing face of modern cricket to the publishers
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
A few days ago, I sent the final manuscript for my book on the changing face of modern cricket to the publishers. As I wrote the acknowledgements page, I thought about how many cricketing conversations in the past few years have helped shape my understanding of the game's recent dynamics. Among those conversations lurks an important subset: because I live in the US, many of them have been with Americans. This might seem strange: aren't Americans folks who are supposedly ignorant about cricket?
But those same Americans are very familiar with other sports, and more to the point, they are very familiar with sports played in professional leagues, organized by franchises. (The more cosmopolitan among them don't restrict their interest to the Big Three of basketball, football and baseball; they also pay keen attention to Europe's moneyed soccer leagues.) The historically-inclined among them are also knowledgeable about the changing role of players as professionals and of the evolution of the NBA, the MLB and the NFL through the twentieth century, from a cluster of competing leagues into consolidated mega-leagues, run by owners' councils, dealing with players organized into unions.
And as a significant part of my book is about the possible evolution of cricket from its exclusively nation-based structure to one that accommodates franchises as well, it was only natural that I would find these conversations useful in thinking about the many, varied, dimensions and ramifications of that change.
Full postOut of the classroom and onto the pitch
While digging through a collection of letters I had written to my mother during my boarding school years, I chanced upon one dated March 8, 1981
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
A few days ago, while digging through a collection of letters I had written to my mother during my boarding school years, I chanced upon one dated March 8, 1981. In it, I wrote:
Today was a cricket match between the staff and the students. The students won in an exciting finish by just two wickets with five minutes left. The staff scored 163 all out. The students looked in a bad state with the score at 110-7 with just 20 minutes left. Then one boy came in scored 15 runs in four balls and really inspired us. Then we just hammered our way out.
As far as match reports go, I'd have to give this one a D. Why is the reporter specifying time left when there must have been an overs-limit in effect? Who scored 15 runs in four balls? What does "we just hammered our way out" mean? How? Where? Why is the first sentence so awkwardly phrased? Besides, the reporter makes it sound as if he was playing in the match. Was he?
I can answer some of those questions, but not all. I do not know why I was obsessed with time rather than overs. My guess is that I still thought, in those days, in terms of temporal limits when it came to cricket; I was a child of Test cricket, and while I had lived through the 1979 World Cup disaster, the limited-overs and 90-overs-a-day sensibility hadn't really kicked in.
Full postAn open letter to Giles Clarke
Well done. With your statement that Internet piracy is the "biggest danger to cricket" you have pulled off a rather wonderful trifect
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
Dear Mr. Giles Clarke,
Well done. With your statement that Internet piracy is the "biggest danger to cricket" you have pulled off a rather wonderful trifecta: you join the ranks of those politicians and industrialists that persist in misunderstanding and fear-mongering about the Internet; you divert attention from far bigger dangers to cricket, including its relentless commercialisation, in which you have paid a notable part; and lastly, you show that when it comes to myopia, and sheer bloody-minded head-in-the-sandedness, there is nothing quite on Planet Earth, it seems, like a cricket administrator.
The curse of 'intellectual property' discourse already threatens to strangle creativity and innovation in an era, when, thanks to the technical affordances made possible by the 'Net, a chance is at hand to reconfigure the political economy of the world of art and cultural production. Those that are economically entrenched in this sphere, like the music, motion picture and software industries, will of course, fight these changes tooth and nail. But do we have to fall for their propagandistic nonsense? Only if our paypacket depends on subscribing to outmoded, monopoly-preserving doctrines.
Full postIndia never cultivated aggression, even when they were No.1
Nothing has surprised me more than the defences mounted of Dhoni's tactics in Wellington and Dominica
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
India's recent run of seven away Test defeats, despite sometimes involving spells of competitive play (and arguably, at the MCG, a real chance to win), have been marked by a lack of competitiveness: four by an innings, one by over 300 runs, another by almost 200 runs, one by over 100 runs. Out of those seven Tests only two have gone the distance, while the game in Perth ended in two-and-a-half days.
The analysis of India's defeats has been copious and plentiful. One aspect of this analysis has centred on the seeming lack of fight, of aggression and resolve: India's Test team rose to the No. 1 ranking because it had shown the ability to fight back from adversity; what happened to those reserves that enable champion teams to claw their way out of the bear-trap of a grim sporting circumstance?
I have five reasons to offer: The Oval 2007, Bangalore 2007-08, Mohali 2008-09, Wellington 2008-09 and Dominica 2011.
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