The conflict of interest

Much like my childhood, my current existence in New York is largely spent wondering why the mere existence of three professional indoor-cricket nets within a 50-mile radius is not enough for my cricket buddies to plan their life around net sessions. The heat from Mother Nature has given way to the heat these guys get from the mother of their children for spending too much of themselves on cricket.

But c’est la vie and c’est la cricket.

I am constantly trying to scam my way into batting and bowling in those nets, sometimes even with strangers, on weekday evenings. But let me not drag you there. So what if I am lonely.

I have even tried to find jobs in some of these establishments. What diabolism! I would be surrounded by cricketers and every moment spent there is potentially the one when I finally bowl my first outswinger or play my first flick along the ground. But the owners and operators of said establishments scoff at that type of thing. Something about ‘conflict of interest’, to which I say “bfzzftptz”. Goes better with the face and gestures I am making now.

It should no longer come as a surprise that there is a lot of cricket in these United States. But the number of ways in which an average cricket follower or fan or player could be associated with the sport here might actually come as a surprise. And most people involved with cricket here make the most of these opportunities that present themselves more out of necessity than anything else.

Some are administrators and players on both days. Others are presidents of clubs during the week and live, on-field commentators for “big matches” during the weekend. Yet others are fringe players in third division teams during the weekend and self-proclaimed “cricket experts” pretty much every moment they breathe. And then there are the ones that have the best gig of them all: coach-cum-selector-cum-proud-parent of the next ‘Lara from Lauderdale’ or ‘Sachin from Sacramento’. You also get other interesting double-takes such as the sycophant journalist, the peddler podcaster and the megalomaniacal messiah.

I, for my part, have been a player-cum-umpire, playing in weekend leagues and regional tournaments for the past several years. VVS Laxman’s chanceless 281 not out set off something in me that screamed “Ahm go’n’ see that sh*& from close range.” Apparently that something is a gangsta rapper. It will take some doing to erase this image of VVS remixed with a gangsta rapper from my head, but there it is. At least both can be called “artists”. Regardless, one will never know if I would have deliberately declined LBW appeals against him, just to watch more of his flicks from the best ‘stand’ in the house.

Umpiring on Saturdays and playing on Sundays has yielded to just umpiring on both days of the weekend. While this might “fill up the coffers of valuable umpiring experience”, it couldn’t be further from warming the cockles of my heart. That “experience” thing is a story that I tell myself to swallow the bitter pill of watching others play while I must watch them do so as an umpire.

That phrase “conflict of interest” stares me in the face every now and then as I am tempted to practice with the teams before the match begins. If ‘Umpiring 101’ were actually in book form, most of it would be dedicated to why no umpire should ever do anything like that. But ‘Scoring 101’ is, well, it is all about scoring 101, isn’t it.

But US cricket without contradiction and conflict of interest would be like Wall Street without a profit motive and conflict of interest.

And so, here I am, waiting for the weekend to do what I think of as my “real job” while I get through the week doing whatever gets me by. As you read this, you are probably at your real job waiting to transform into a weekend warrior, come Saturday. Wish you an interesting conflict.