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.

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.