Tuesday, March 30, 2010

YUSUF PATHAN: the demolisher



Minimally distracted by mental demons, a man who swings his own brand of willow, Yusuf Khan Pathan is one of the smoothest strokers of a sixer one would ever wish to never bowl to. His bat swing is one of languid violence – if he were not a cricketer, he would have been a shoo-in for the job of fanning an executioner. He has deceptive might and would give brute forcers a key lesson in making healthy contact with the ball. Arguably a better all-rounder than his younger sibling, Irfan, Yusuf can not only hit a longer ball, but on current form, is a more reliable bowling option as well. With his flat drifters, he does not turn the ball a mile, but manages to squeeze the odd delivery through amid a series of dot balls.

Yusuf Pathan began his demolition derby in 1999-2000 when he played for the Baroda Under-16 team in the Vijay Merchant Trophy. A decent bits-and-pieces player from the outset, he walked into the Under-19 sides of Baroda and later, West Zone. Although he made his First-class debut in 2001-02, he began to truly shine during the 2004-05 Ranji Trophy season where he turned out among West Zone’s highest run-scorers and wicket-takers.

Having impressed selectors with his performances in 2007 Inter-state T20 competition, he was included in the Indian squad for the T20 World Cup in South Africa. His International debut did not afford him any immediate extravagant glory. Filling in for the injured Virender Sehwag, he played as an opener in the final against Pakistan at Johannesburg. He heralded his arrival with a lofted skier that cleared the ropes straight down the ground. In terms of tangible contribution, his 15 runs of 8 balls, a solitary over that went for five runs, and one catch did not make for ostentatious news. But in the context of the T20 Final, his start provided India the impetus and his tidy over put the brakes on a rampaging Pakistani run-rate.

His stunning antics for Rajasthan Royals in the 2008 Indian Premier League’s inaugural season made it prudish for the selectors to ignore him any longer and he was drafted into the One Day International side for the Kitply Cup. His first ODI, against Pakistan, was of poor showing, as he struggled to time the ball all through a strained innings. Although played in every game of that series and the next, his performances were lukewarm, and he was dropped from the side. But a Yusuf Pathan relegated to the domestic circuit is a shark in a fish pond, and he soon resumed duty in the Indian side for the England home ODI series a few months later. Here he would start to find himself, carving a niche as a belligerent match-winner, scoring a whirlwind fifty at Indore on his 26th birthday.

In a short span, he became ensconced in the Indian ODI line-up for a while, losing his all-rounder spot only in late 2009 to Ravindra Jadeja. Viewed as a flexible all-rounder who can bat anywhere in the order as per the team’s need to accelerate the run rate, Pathan remains an integral part of MS Dhoni’s T20 team. His bowling too fits in well as he bowls his quota of flat off-breaks at a fair clip, conceding few as the batting side are left to wonder where his overs went. However, he is still viewed as a bit too mercurial, and this has kept him on the sidelines of the ODI team and out of the Test side till now.

In the Deodhar Trophy final, he almost got North Zone over the line blasting an impeccable 39-ball 80. This was the latest in the sequence of high-calibre hitting he had displayed during the 2010 domestic season. Earlier in the season, playing the Duleep Trophy final against South Zone, he followed a first innings century (108) with an unbeaten double ton (210 off 190 balls) in the second innings to lead West Zone to a record-setting highest successful run chase in the history of first class cricket.

Incredible when he enters his zone, he has frequently proven a match-winner for the Rajasthan Royals. At times, he has single-handedly demolished the opposition’s chances with his uncanny hitting. The Royals have faced situations where he has been the only batsman a force to reckon with in the line-up. In IPL 3, he has landed the covetable brand of Most Valued Player, according to the newspaper Rediff. For the price he was bought (USD 475,000), his returns have been disproportionately advantageous. The 37 ball century he wove against the Mumbai Indians became the first century of tournament, and included a record 11 consecutive hits to the boundary, five of which cleared it on the full.

A batsman who seems to be on a campaign to have the authorities see the futility of boundary ropes, Yusuf Pathan appears to play his cricket in zero gravity. Boundary ropes are redundancies for him, and in the manner of Arjuna’s eye, the only target worth his attention seems the top of the stadium roof. He seldom miscues a shot he has decided to loft on the full. His mind does not allow him to ever settle for a grounded shot if the ball is in the zone. His principle seems to be that a ball lofted is a sixer, while a ball played along the ground can only ever be a four at best.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

IPL: CRICKET'S FRIEND OR FOE?


The Indian Premier League has been a manna for many unheralded cricketers, Indian and International. The Pandeys, Bislas, Ojhas, Marshes and Yusuf Pathans were given an occasion to which they could rise, and make their presence felt amongst the bigger names. Inequalities have been bridged, and identities forged. It has done real good for the game of Twenty-twenty and for various entities whose fortunes are intermingled with that of the IPL’s. It has taken cricket to the furthest reaches of the globe and rendered many financially secure(even post retirement). It has also, to some extent, elevated cricket itself, by making it more affable, human and contemporary. But as with anything momentous and money-minded, it has come with its uglier flypside.

The wicket has turned sticky, rubbed with the green. The capitalists have stormed onto the cricket pitch, knocking over the altruists of the game abrasively to the ground. The manner in which the Indian Premier League has laid siege to the game of cricket could evoke images of brash, intoxicated invaders riding their stallions into a captive nation. The game has been packaged and bedecked to draw in the most lucre possible. Commerce has mildly usurped the game and it may actually shrink the classical sport. While fast-paced sports like Baseball or Soccer are great in their own right, when speed-wheels and bowties are added to a venerable game like Cricket, it feels like a devaluation on some levels.

Cricketarian souls have been captured by the promise of thrills and money. Money has once again shown itself to be the one interest the young, the old, and the middle-aged have in common. Then there is the unfortunate upshot when the call to untold riches might make a player cut short his International career to prolong his body and fortune under the employ of Lalit Modi’s brainchild, as has happened with Andrew Flintoff, or (debatably) with Andrew Symonds.

The game is built up as a spectacle, almost a gladiatorial extravaganza, with the sport losing all delusions of being an interest in itself, other than a product presented upon a retailer’s shelf. A clear delineation between the presenters of the package and the purchasing spectators is seen in the booming introductions made by the sacred umpires themselves, serenading the stadium’s crowd with a reverberating “Are you ready, Bangalore?” at the start of the match with the cadence of an announcer at a boxing bout.

The Twenty-twenty format is not so devoid of cricketing subtleties that it would need to be sold by dancing cheerleaders and resplendent glamour. The attempt to build it up as a world-class event has tended to get a touch overwrought, threatening to overly play up the non-cricket aspects in trying to rope in the laziest of the masses. International exposure and celebrity the IPL may well possess, but redundancy always seemed an inevitability with games packed in like a sweaty box of sardines, each match demanding a fresh independent pertinence in the crowded schedule. Blasé exaggerations woven to inject energy into an otherwise homogenous sequence of matches weaken the game’s authenticity. So much money being involved almost holds success hostage, and the feverish urge to pump up the atmosphere is blatantly visible in the manner of many a mid-innings anchor.

The lure has not spared even the staunchest of cricket’s devotees – the venerated Oracle of the sport: the Commentator. The hitherto articulate commentary of someone like Danny Morrison has degenerated into a series of expressive grunts and onomatopoeic outbursts. Even Harsha Bhogle, whose cricketing integrity has always been his immutable claim to the commentator’s box, has succumbed to dishing out the menial phrases of all those under the IPL payroll. Calling a heart-stopping Sixer a DLF Maximum would sound pathetic to anyone who is individualistic enough to be acutely aware of how shamelessly solicitous advertising can get. Screaming it in a tone that brooks no argument, as though a ‘DLF Maximum’ is the most apt and ubiquitous way to describe a ball that clears the ropes is an even greater aspersion cast on the viewer’s individualism. Sixers did exist before the DLF company’s owners even started playing with Lego building blocks, after all...

Phrases like Karbonn Kamal catches and City Moments of Success are marketted almost too regularly to avoid sounding contrived and manipulative. At times the usages have bordered on the ridiculous. A curious incident saw a ‘Karbonn Kamal catch’ reported missed by a butter-fingered member of the crowd, when a ‘DLF maximum’ had been achieved – and therefore it was a ‘City Moment of Success’. Surely a self-respecting watcher of cricket may well take umbrage at being force-fed labels that brazenly.

Once in a while though, a truly incredible feat overshadows the promotional imperative, driving it away momentarily from the commentator’s memory. When AB de Villiers’ pulled off a shocker of a catch on the boundary against the Royal Challengers Bangalore team, Mike Haysman’s benumbed brain forgot that he had been paid to repeat ‘Karbonn Kamal’ whenever justifiable, and he reverted to the more heartfelt ‘goodness gracious!.. Extraordinary...one of the finest catches you will ever see!” before duty was remembered.

For all the pejorative connotations held by the word ‘shrewd’, IPL’s think-tank – predominantly Lalit Modi – has only really tapped the public’s most lucrative interest. Modi has brought them their breakfast in bed, served upon a pampering tray of frills and thrills. Wynand-esque in its philosophy, the IPL synergises the elements that attract visceral interest in the public, and gathers them into a package that is irresistible despite a certain dilution of cricket by what extreme traditionalists might deem commercial depravity. If the IPL were a girlfriend, she would be quite a Karbonn Kamal.

Monday, February 22, 2010

NO FAIR: IT'S NOT CRICKET

Maybe I'm the one that's paranoid. Maybe the Indian team has genuinely become the kind of side that can take a hit and come back aggressive as you please, psyching the opposition against all odds. I am also one of the billion-plus people who would like to believe that. But I also like to feel like I have an "x-ray" sense, if you will, that sensitizes me to the subliminal energy levels of the Indian team. At the times when this energy level matches what I see on TV, I am able to believe that the Indian side has fared according to its performance. But several times, more so off late, I can't help but feel that Indian cricket has been suctioned by a politicized world.

What do I mean by that? The game of cricket has grown such a viewership and patronage that it presents itself as the perfect mascot for politicos to channel their agendas through. It would indeed seem unnatural if such a media specimen as ostentatious as the Indian cricket team were not exploited by the powers that be. In a certain liberal sense, such exploitation would not even seem wrong or immoral. A sport need not ever feel like it supersedes a self-promoting agenda. A businessman may surely use something as attention-grabbing as the Indian cricket side to help his agenda along – no incriminations leveled. Fair enough. But it does hurt the ardent follower of the game to feel that the game they are investing so much of their energies and passion on could be rigged.

(The following is seeped in conjecture that I would like to be read with an open mind – indeed with a mind wanting to be led by the words it is reading)

Let us hark back a couple of years, where I first perceived this phenomenon in operation, to the T20 World Cup in South Africa. It can't be too outrageous an accusation to say that the Indian World T20 Champion squad possessed neither the mightiest hitters nor the most balanced T20 team. Indeed bowlers like Sreesanth, RP Singh were never touted as run-scrunchers. Even to this day, I can't help but wonder how India won the tournament playing against teams that boasted relentless hitters like Hayden, Gilchrist, Gayle, Graeme Smith, Mccullum and others. This is not to detract from the intense, timely performances by Indian players, but try as I might, I can't imagine how the Australian team performed worse on the same wicket that the Indians batted on. Emerging stars and fiery competitors in the oppositions apart, Australia cannot have been as feeble as they appeared to be during that tournament.

That was the period in cricketing history when a nascent format cried for feeding. Twenty-Twenty is largely a commerce-driven sport, as indeed it caters to the masses. The Men in charge of cricket's future (I don't know for sure who these are, but there have to be them) probably saw this as a most lucrative avenue. As they scratched their bearded chins (again, I can't make any informed assessment regarding the fuzziness of their chins, but let's assume for effect), the oldest member tugged his goatee especially hard and came up with the glorious realisation that India was the melting pot of cricketing dough. What better people to comprise a viewership than the largest and most proudly passionate cricket-fanatics in the world?

The tournament’s Final was aptly scripted to showcase the ripest rivalry cricket has been blessed with – India vs. Pakistan. And as India won the T20 World Cup, the senile (or youthful, I don't know!) wise men of cricket slapped each other high fives for the successful enticement of a billion wallets.

Then the next avatar taken by the Round Table of Cricket Elders: the T20 World Cup 2009. Pakistan had been through trying times at the time, and the refreshing quality of the timely victory to the despondent nation was beset, in my mind, by the same artificial phenomenon I saw repeated. Mohammad Aameer had bowled a wicket-maiden in the first over of a T20 World Cup Final to the fearsome Dilshan, and something felt amiss.

Not that either India or Pakistan is the best team in the world in the shorter format. Indeed, several pundits will tell you that neither has the normative ingredients that make up a champion team. The volatile and short format probably made it easier by making it necessary to win only a few matches; or on the flipside, be knocked out just as easily. It feels like an untrustworthily spoon-fed case-in-point in favour of my argument, but the first two winners of T20 tournaments just happened to be the two most ardent cricketing nations.

(Thanks for coming along and holding onto your rocks and tomatoes for this long. I pray for a slight increase in broadmindedness for the following words)

Now when Test cricket faced brickbats in the face of fast emptying stands, and needed a boost to stay alive, the best thing to happen to the form that needed saving was an India-based rescuing of the damsel in distress. The ever vigilant universe saw to it that India found itself at the top of the Test-rankings and the media fell in step with much expedient sensationalizing of this event. The next act of God was that the schedule did not hold any matches for India for a while. This made for more fodder for the media in that the Indian season's final Test series against South Africa could be touted grandly as the World Championship of Cricket.

The first Test at Nagpur India lost miserably. An innings defeat is hard to bear for a Numero Uno team. How much this defeat would benefit the cause of the sensationalist media in the slightly longer run is evident now. The next match at the Eden Gardens was a must-win for India to retain its youthful berth at the top for the end of the season. India rallied mightily, delivering a like blow to the Proteas to clinch a penultimate-over victory. Harbhajan Singh duly performed his historic sprint evading clamouring teammates, making a beeline for the boundary ropes, where his Athenian exultations may be all the better displayed in the limelight. The sight of a triumphant Bhajji throwing open his chest at the roaring crowd in a feral expression of victory has to be a genuinely powerful image in sporting history books.

All this constituted a strong shot in the arm for Test cricket. Now that India is the top ranked team in a format, there is bound to be healthy respect for Test cricket, which as always Indian glory never fails to generate for its patron format.

With such glorious goals as to preserve the sport and do some Samaritanism for an ailing nation; even promote a young sport, the artifices of cricket’s powers can well be condoned. Even praised. But what price an honest game of cricket?

Here is me hoping to be trashed with convincing counter-arguments debunking all this as paranoid, irrational mental gymnastics. But watching India play has lost that much sheen for me as every time I watch them play, the puppet strings stand out from their shoulder-blades.