Samir Chopra
The Oval Test (but not the one you have in mind)
Everyone is talking about The Oval, so I might as well get into the act
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
Everyone is talking about The Oval, so I might as well get into the act.
But not by talking about the fifth Ashes test, but about a match that took
place 38 years ago. The 1971 Oval Test remains the only Test match whose
scores are committed to my memory. England 355 all out. India 284 all out.
England 101 all out. India 174 for 6. India wins by six wickets as Abid Ali
hits the winning runs. India's first Test win in England.
It's a little strange, really. I didn't see this match live (or even hear
any radio commentary). The only parts of it that I've seen on television
highlight reels are those clips that feature BS Chandrasekhar's 6 for 38 (one of
those few Indian bowling figures that I also know by heart). It just
happens to be one of those matches that is hard to forget, whose memories,
by virtue of being so frequently imprinted by the written word, are now
locked away securely, impervious to the ravages of time.
But I've seen a little bit more this weekend. And a tiny video clip
reminds me of how much the cricketing world has changed. And what makes
this clip puzzling is that it is not clear to me whether the change is for
the better or worse.
Pay attention, then, if you will, to the closing moments of this Test in this linked YouTube
video, pay attention from 3:15 onwards. India need two runs to win.
It's 170 for 4. Farokh Engineer and Ali are at the crease. After hearing out
Engineer's advice that he stay calm and knock off the single required, Ali
square cuts for four. As the crowd invades the pitch, the players scramble
for the pavilion, but only after the obligatory scramble for stumps.
Full postEasy on the exoticising please
While believing this story about the modern cricketing game would certainly aid in the construction of a narrative that says 'unpredictable, divine genius' will always trump 'solid, old-fashioned, mechanical competence', it did nothing to help us
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
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Yesterday, on my personal blog, Eye on Cricket, I penned my 1000th post. In a comment offered in congratulation, one of my readers complained about the excessive use of cliches in sports journalism. To use a nineties Brooklynism, word.
One persistent complaint of mine is the East versus West cliche in cricket journalism. A glaring display of this came in the aftermath of Pakistan's World Twenty20 win (I'm not referring to any particular article for these sentiments were present all over the place). In this art versus science view of cricket, Pakistan's victory in the World Twenty20 was a triumph for flair over persistence (this sentiment was especially on display after the semi-final win over South Africa). While believing this story about the modern cricketing game would certainly aid in the construction of a narrative that says 'unpredictable, divine genius' will always trump 'solid, old-fashioned, mechanical competence', it did nothing to help us understand South Africa's loss to Pakistan from a cricketing perspective.
Pakistan beat South Africa in the Twenty20 semi-final because, in fact, they did certain very ordinary cricketing things better. They had the better spin bowlers on a turning track (how extremely unpredictable to pick good spinners and bowl them on a track that turns) and they had a better exponent of reverse swing in their bowling line-up (how delightfully erratic to have a reverse-swing bowler saved up for when the ball gets a little older). Pakistan's batting was not particularly different from the Twenty20 efforts of many other teams: an opener that flails away in the opening Powerplay, a hard-hitting allrounder, some canny single collection when the pace went ever so slightly off the ball.
Full postWatching alone isn't always fun
There is nothing quite like having a fellow fan at hand to receive, amplify, and enhance, one's immediate, unvarnished take on a game of cricket
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
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To this list, one must add, "alone, slumped in a work chair, in front of a nineteen-inch flat screen monitor." Well, at least, that is how I watch a lot of cricket these days. On broadband video, at home (the work connection is a little slow, unfortunately). And in general, these pleasures of cricket watching are experienced in splendid isolation.
When the hours are right, I can turn on the speakers and enjoy the sensation of the crackle of crowd sounds and commentators permeating the ambience of my apartment, otherwise, when the timezones are not favorable, I have to slip on a pair of headphones and enter further the illusion of being confined to a tiny sphere, my activities incomprehensible to most around me. Nothing confirms my sense of isolation as an immigrant, an exile in the world of cricket, quite like that feeling which steals over
me when India play their home games, when my hours of vigil commence just
as my wife turns out the lights and goes to bed, and I stay up in the living room, headphones strapped on, struggling to stay awake, as a cricket game goes on, thousands of miles away.
But watching cricket like this is a frustrating business. Because those that watch cricket games like to talk about it, to offer an opinion, to do both in real time, and sometimes, to even listen to what other folks might have to say. In the old days, even if I watched part of a game alone at home, I was guaranteed conversation about it if I stepped out on the
street, or on the university bus the next morning.
Full postThe India-Australia relationship is a special one
On the cricketing field, it has provided some of the best cricket of recent years
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
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I'd stand accused (and rightly so) of being an utterly naive fool were I to say that I had not anticipated some of the comments section flaming that followed on the heels of my post about Ricky Ponting. But that doesn't make it any less depressing. I'm not counting the posts here that simply criticized Ponting as a captain, batsman or whatever; I mean the posts that were pointedly personal or generalized remarks about the respective countries' teams, players and fans. The India-Australia bickerfest shows no sign of abating, and while it might provide the occasional entertaining moment, it is by and large, a very unedifying business.
Now, I have gotten into net spats myself. I have not followed the simple policy of thinking long and hard about whether I really want to post the angry retort that I've just typed up. I'm a flame war veteran, and will be the first to acknowledge that I've exploited the anonymity the Internet affords when it comes to online disagreements. But in the particular context of the India-Australia rivalry, there is a certain line I don't cross (or at least, I hope I haven't), and the reason for that is quite simple.
I have Australian friends. Most of whom are passionate cricket fans. Very knowledgeable ones. And I love discussing cricket with them. They know their cricketing history, they are very appreciative of Indian cricketers. I've lived in Australia for two years and played cricket with Australians and loved every single minute of it. This winter (the southern summer) I will travel to Sydney again and hopefully play a game again with my old team.
Full postRicky don't lose that aggression
Still, whatever his problems as a captain, and a communicator, I like watching him when he steps on to the field; he is, as he might like to hear, "very good value."
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
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Question: What do a snowball in hell and an Indian fan of Ricky Ponting have in common?
Answer: They are both non-existent entities.
Yes, that is an exaggeration. But such hyperbole captures one uncomfortable fact about the Australian captain: he is not popular among many, many cricket fans all over the world. Given that Indian fans make up a majority of the world's cricket fans, it's a fair call to say he isn't a very popular man in the world of cricket. So as a corrective, I'd like to offer a tribute to Ricky Ponting on the occasion of his having surpassed Allan Border's run aggregate in Tests. And I do not for a second think that I'm alone, even amongst Indians, in holding these opinions of Ponting.
Full postThe lost greats
Flintoff is one of those poignant characters we might call the lost greats
Mike Holmans
25-Feb-2013
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Samir Chopra has poured cold water over the idea that Andrew Flintoff's name should be added to the roll of great cricketers. He is of course right, but it is nevertheless significant that the question should even be worth discussing. When Paul Collingwood retires, for instance, any English paper bandying "great" around will also be carrying reports of the Pope's conversion to Scientology and its travel supplement will be featuring a guide to the exciting new ski resorts in hell.
Ricky Ponting has compared Flintoff to Curtly Ambrose, Courtney Walsh and Wasim Akram, Justin Langer rates him as one of the three best bowlers he's faced, and Adam Gilchrist has confessed to having nightmares about him. Michael Holding rated his spell on the fifth morning at Lord's as one of the greatest spells of fast bowling he had seen. His dismantling of Jaques Kallis was one of the indelible memories of last summer. These are not the memories of, nor tributes paid to, the journeyman bits-and-pieces player Flintoff's statistics seem to betoken, but ticks in several of the boxes on the application for membership of Great Players CC. Too few to qualify, but enough for him not to be dismissed out of hand.
Flintoff is one of those poignant characters discussion of whose career will usually include the words "if only", the ones we might call the lost greats. Whether because of early death (Archie Jackson, Collie Smith, Duleepsinhji) or apartheid bans (Barry Richards, Mike Procter, Sylvester Clarke, Franklyn Stephenson) or other causes over which they had little personal control, we cannot help wondering what we would have thought of them if only they had had uninterrupted careers.
Full postFreddie Flintoff and the adjective 'great'
To call Flintoff a 'great' Test cricketer is to admit him to an exclusive club whose membership has taken far more work, dedication, skill and longevity on the part of its members than Freddie has been able to show.
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
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It has been a long time since I've felt genuine affection for an English cricketer. More precisely, since David Gower and Ian Botham packed up their kitbags and left. Freddie Flintoff stepped into the breach, and despite my initial viewing of him as a drunken soccer oaf, he managed to impress me with his ability to ratchet up the atmosphere in a Test match with his justifiably famous spells, to be combative with batsmen while not descending into puerile abusiveness, to hit the ball hard and long, and with all those other ineffable qualities that make disbelievers into
Freddie fans. Flintoff evokes feelings in me that remind me of my childhood following of cricket.
But in all of this, I have never considered Flintoff a 'great' cricketer just like I never considered many other darlings of mine (like Kim Hughes for instance) to be greats. And it dismays me to see that term thrown about so freely in this Ashes summer as the English media gear up, almost hopefully, for a final orgy of Freddie-anointing. Good yes, talented yes, mercurial yes, brilliant to watch yes. But great? No.
If one is to believe the emanations of the English press after the Lord's Test, it is possible for a bowler to be called great despite possessing the mediocre statistics that Flintoff does (he has, I might like to remind readers, not even taken three wickets per test over his career), for a player to be called a great Ashes performer despite leading his side to a 0-5 whitewash at the hands of the Great Enemy (and visibly losing all control of his team as the series wore on), for an allrounder to be called great despite only being able to swing an occasional match in favour of England with his bowling and batting.
Full postOf cemeteries and cricket - another view
I cannot bring myself to condemn the trips: the players who have been have spoken of the humbling and thought-provoking nature of the experiences, and they may well have benefited in wholly laudable ways
Mike Holmans
25-Feb-2013
Samir Chopra wrote eloquently yesterday about his unease at the England team having a bonding session in the cemeteries of Flanders. I share many of his qualms, though not all, and have a few of my own.
One factor which mitigates the gimmickry aspect is that they did gather to lay a tribute at the grave of Charlie Blythe, one of cricket's near-greats. There is something entirely appropriate about an England team paying collective homage to one of their fallen predecessors.
I can just about see the point of capturing that rite on film for posterity but the rest of the photo coverage was, I firmly agree with Samir, tasteless. The existence of the photographs means that there was an observer who was concentrating on taking pictures rather than paying his own respects to the war dead. And some of the photographs which have been published look posed, which would mean that the subject of the picture was breaking off from contemplating whatever thoughts the rows of gravestones occasioned to make sure that he would look good on camera.
Samir's point about encouraging these young men to go and visit memorials in their own time is well made, but is there not also a value in a collective experience? I'm with Samir when it comes to visiting war graves as a corporate management training away day, but I suspect he would have no principled objection to a school organising such a trip for 16 of its pupils, and there is an argument that a lot of young professional cricketers are little more than school kids when it comes to life outside sport.
Full postOf Cemeteries and Cricket
Given this dissimilarity, it would be nice if all of us could ease up on the "sport is war" analogy-making
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
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I come from a military family (more precisely, of air force pilots). Thus, I'm generally inclined to agree with sentiments of recognition directed towards the service of war veterans, the commemoration of the war dead, and more broadly, with a sympathetic take on folks who serve in the military. Still, I would be lying if I did not say that both the Australian team's visit to Gallipoli in 2001, and the English team's visit to Flanders yesterday filled me with some unease.
What bothers me about these trips is the idea that paying a visit to war cemeteries or memorials is a "bonding exercise" for sportsmen about to engage in a major sporting encounter. This notion is deeply problematic on two counts.
First, it encourages a facile identification between sport and war (note, I'm not saying the visits do it - they just encourage it). This identification has already infected sports journalism - what with its language of "sporting battlefields", "fierce battles", "thrashings", "humiliating defeats", "gallant resistance", language that is the stuff of headlines and which often makes me cringe. Some of the borrowing of this language is unavoidable; I'm sure it slips into my blogging as well.
After all, sports is a competitive encounter with winners and losers; war is a "competitive encounter" as well. But there the similarity should end.
Full postSing that anthem
my attitude is that if it doesn't cause offence, and it helps to assert the primacy of the international game, then I'm all for it
Samir Chopra
25-Feb-2013
Yesterday, Mike Holmans found the singing of the national anthems before the Women's Twenty20 final tear-inducing. And a week or so ago, Rob Steen wrote that the singing of the national anthems before the WC T20 games was a "tacky and transparent attempt to assert the primacy of the international game". But Rob is also someone, I think, who would like the primacy of the international game to be maintained (if I'm mistaken, please correct me). As someone who quite likes the national anthem ritual before sporting encounters, I feel obliged to throw in my tuppence.
Perhaps part of the reason Rob does not like the performance of the national anthem is because it is an overtly nationalistic gesture (in a time when a prima facie reaction to nationalism is that it is pretty darn unfashionable). Perhaps the disagreement is just about tactics. Rob might want to assert the primacy of the international game, he just doesn't want it done via the national anthem route. Fair enough. But I'd like to argue that national anthems aren't tacky and transparent and in fact, when it comes to trying to frame the international game in terms of some pomp and circumstance, it's a very good option (compared to the alternatives we have).
Now, I'm in an odd position when it comes to speaking up on behalf of national anthems. I don't live in my country of birth; while I stand for the US anthem at public events where it is played, I don't do the hand-over-the-heart routine; and in general, I dislike sanctimonious patriotic clap-trap as much as anyone else. So what is the deal?
Quite simply, I like national anthems before international sporting encounters, for quasi-aesthetic reasons, if they form part of a relatively simple nod to nationalist sentiment before the game (i.e., I'm not in favour of trotting out war veterans, politicians, screaming jets lighting their afterburners, parades etc). National anthems hush the crowd momentarily, which is always a good thing for getting the atmosphere of tension and anticipation just right; they remind everyone present that this game is played by national representatives; for spectators, national anthems can be marvelously evocative, largely because of childhood memories I suspect, in a way that other nationalist gestures simply aren't; and lastly players get a kick out of the anthems because it sets up the prizefighter-chomping-at-the-bit imagery quite well.
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