Launch pad for global game (3 May 1999)

3 May 1999

Launch pad for global game

Mike Marqusee

For months, television networks, cricket administrators and a bevy of private corporations have subjected south Asian cricket fans to an increasingly frenzied barrage of advance promotion for the World Cup. In contrast, the hoopla here has been belated and subdued. As some 90 per cent of the world's cricket fans live in south Asia, perhaps that's not surprising.

The World Cup is a rare reunion of a far flung and often querulous family. For all the talk of cricket becoming a global game, it remains a fragmented one, comprising a multiplicity of regions and cultures. Sometimes these worlds within worlds overlap (though not without friction) and sometimes they pursue their separate destinies in mutual ignorance.

In England, for example, fans debating the cricketing highlight of 1998 might plump for England's Test series victory over South Africa (though some of us would prefer Sri Lanka's victory over England at the Oval), but in India there would be no debate at all. Sachin Tendulkar's record-breaking spree of one-day international hundreds - nine in 33 matches (plus seven fifties) - easily outstripped every other sporting event in the sub-continent.

Tendulkar's breathtaking run, during which he raised the art and science of one-day batsmanship to new heights, was hardly mentioned in the British media, partly because so few of the matches he played in were broadcast over here, and partly because none of them involved England.

It is easy to sneer at the non-stop one-day international circus which is now the backbone of commercial cricket in Asia - from Sharjah to Singapore - but it does ensure that lovers of the game in that part of the world get more exposure to more of the world's best cricketers more often than their counterparts over here.

The chance to watch the world's great talents, the rising as well as the established stars, compete against each other over a delimited period of time is, of course, the compelling justification for any world cup in any sport. When it comes to one-day cricket, it is the ideal showcase, producing more complex and credible drama than two and three nation competitions. And for cricket lovers in Britain, it has the added attraction of rarity.

Last year, fans enjoyed a brief glimpse of those unique artists, Sanath Jayasuriya and Muttiah Muralitharan, and many wondered why they'd been denied this treat for so long. Similarly, the blossoming talents of Saeed Anwar, Shoaib Akhtar and Ajit Agarkar - household names in south Asia - are still little known in this country. Their exploits are standard television fare in south Asia, but despite the over-exposure, they do not pall.

As the no-balling of Muralitharan by Ross Emerson, and Arjuna Ranatunga's subsequent protest demonstrated, cricket may be a global game but it lacks effective global governance or even a global consensus on 'fair play' and the interpretation of the laws. In that context, the World Cup takes on even greater importance. Once every few years, cricket fans spread across six continents find themselves relishing the same spectacle - and arguing over the same controversies - simultaneously. Inevitably, they bring their different passions and perspectives to bear on the tournament. Sadly, the World Cup can do little to bring about world peace, but it can encourage a world dialogue on the game's problems and possibilities.

So many teams enter this World Cup with the baggage of domestic controversy. So many have a case to prove or disprove. The champions, Sri Lanka, have endured an exceptionally poor run of form and have been embarrassed by the conduct of the recent cricket board elections, which were marred by serious allegations of fraud and intimidation.

In the West Indies, the future of the game seems to hang in the balance. A performance as discreditable as the one against South Africa during the winter could have long-term repercussions. In South Africa itself, the possibility that an all-white team may represent the country has led the sports minister to declare that he might refuse to support the national side.

Pakistan are dogged by the long-running match-fixing scandal and the Indian team will once again be weighed down with a burden of expectation known by few professional sportsmen anywhere.

It may well be England who have the most to prove, not as a team on the field of play but as a host country capable of embracing a rapidly evolving international game. English cricket must show that it can host this family reunion with something of the warmth, panache and profitability of the last one in south Asia. It must welcome and celebrate diverse cricket cultures and ensure that the World Cup is a 'carnival of cricket' in more than name only. This is an opportunity that will not come again for many years, a chance to alert those with only a peripheral interest in cricket to the global glories of the modern game. Let's hope the England and Wales Cricket Board don't blow it.

Mike Marqusee is the author of War Minus the Shooting, a journey through south Asia during cricket's World Cup, and the forthcoming Redemption Song: Muhammad Ali and the Spirit of the Sixties.

Source :: Electronic Telegraph (https://www.telegraph.co.uk)