File picture of Mumbai Indians bowler Jasprit Bumrah, who said he had to ensure he was not a ‘one-trick pony’
| Photo Credit: EMMANUAL YOGINI

The IPL has made one thing clear over the years. There will be huge sixes, big scores, startling bowling figures, misreading of pitches, surprising results. But one thing won’t see as often is the memorable quote or the telling comment. Putting the ball in the right areas is the bowler’s favourite cliche while batters prefer to play it safe with: “I am taking it one game at a time — the idea is to go out there and enjoy yourself.”

But occasionally a line emerges that causes the kind of surprise a maiden over might. The essential honesty and self-awareness of a performer comes through, shining a light on himself while simultaneously making a comment on the format itself.

When the No. 1 batter in the world, Suryakumar Yadav says, “It has been two or three years, (I) have never batted against Jasprit Bumrah in the nets,” and explains why, “Either he breaks my bat or my foot,” honesty, self-deprecation and admiration for a teammate are rolled into one admission.

Dispenser of possibilities

With ball in hand, Bumrah is a dispenser of possibilities. After his ridiculously short run-up, will he deliver a ball over 145kmph, a yorker, one screaming past or staying its course, a slower delivery, any of which he can do without an easily discernible change in action? The viewer is as keen as the batter, but enjoys the comfort of distance.

Asked how he did it, Bumrah told an interviewer at the end of a match where he had taken five wickets that he worked hard, kept going back to watch himself bowl and ensured he was not a one-trick pony. He summed it up with, “There is no ego in this format.”

That’s an interesting concept. But in fact, there are two kinds of ego in competitive sport; one positive, and perhaps necessary, the other destructive.

“I know everything there is to know about my craft, no one can get the better of me,” is thinking that belongs to the negative kind of ego. “Batters might have worked out how to play me, I have to keep one step ahead of them with practice and experimentation,” is the positive kind. Bumrah, India’s pride, is talking about the negative kind that has no place in any format.

Importance of data

If you played (and watched) cricket in the first eight decades of the last century, chances are you look down upon computers and data analysis as unnecessary. “The only computer you need is between your ears,” the great Bishan Bedi said often. Recently, the equally great Erapalli Prasanna told a fan, “Data cannot help you bowl better. It adds nothing to your skill.”

This of course is correct. A leg spinner might know that a batter is weak against the googly based on the percentage of his dismissals to that delivery. But if he cannot bowl a googly himself, that data cannot help him.

Sport throws up so much data on a running basis that sometimes it can get too much even for the player. So when Sunil Narine, KKR’s opening batter says, “I have one role, and the less I know the better it is for me,” he is telling us how he clears his mind of irrelevancies. His strike rate after five matches is 183, and he is in the wonderful position of knowing that his batting is a bonus in a team where he is the leading spinner. Why clutter his mind, therefore? His role is clear: see ball, hit ball.

His 39-ball 85 against Delhi Capitals was the foundation of victory. He will fail on occasion, but even if he succeeds only forty percent of the time, he would have done his job at the top.

Few batters in the IPL have such clarity. A Rohit Sharma or a Virat Kohli might like to think their job too is ‘see ball, hit ball’, but they know that they have greater responsibilities. The state of the match matters, the job of blunting the opposition’s main bowler is theirs, their dismissal can demoraliSe those waiting to bat.

So there you have it. Three quotes, from a top batter, a great bowler and a leading all-rounder. There’s hope. We are not yet at the half-way stage.

Bishan Singh Bedi always spoke his mind; diplomacy was an alien concept. Yet, even if you didn’t agree with him, you knew his ideas came from a place of purity and concern.

October 25, 2023 12:45 am | Updated 12:00 pm IST

He remains the only Indian bowler with over 1500 First Class wickets. When he retired in 1979 he had more Test wickets than any other Indian. Was he the greatest left-arm spinner of all time? Here’s Don Bradman: “I am ever ready to appreciate skill in a cricketer, particularly as in Bedi’s case, it is associated with sportsmanship of high calibre…I do not hesitate to rank Bedi amongst the finest bowlers of his type that we have seen.”

On figures alone, Bedi’s place in the pantheon is assured. But cricket is so much more than its statistics. He brought a sense of joy to everything he did on the field, communicating that to the spectators. He did not have a negative bone in his body.

Cricket has lost one of its all-time greats, India has lost a conscience-keeper, and I have lost a dear friend and guide, someone who taught life lessons simply by being himself. When we shifted to Delhi in 1989-90, the first call my wife received was from Bedi. “If there is anything I can do, don’t hesitate….” he began. My wife was speechless. Then as we moved around the country and elsewhere, Bedi visited us wherever we lived. We celebrated his 60th birthday at our place in Bengaluru, he made sure he came for my wife’s sculpture exhibitions in Delhi. He called our son ‘David’ because he felt that despite his slight build, the boy would slay Goliaths!

He was that special individual who had a unique relationship with everyone he met, as a favourite uncle, or a reliable brother. On his first tour as a 20-year-old, he called everyone ‘Paaji’ (older brother). It went from being his nickname to one used with respect to address him.

He took me to the Golden Temple in Amritsar when I was writing his biography, saying that religion was the starting point to understanding him. He loved his music; his family felt that if he had not been a cricketer he might have been a singer.

With his friend Erapalli Prasanna who led Karnataka, he took Indian cricket beyond Mumbai, making Delhi and North Zone a major force. Yet, the stadium in Delhi, where he played so much of his cricket, was named after a politician. He saw Prasanna, Bhagwat Chandrasekhar and Srinivas Venkatraghavan, bowlers in a unique spin quartet as technically unsurpassable.

Above all, Bedi had gratitude for the game that made him, and if it was brought into disrepute anywhere in the world, it affected him deeply. It could be politics, bowling actions, bad behaviour, lack of trying, match fixing — he couldn’t understand how players could be so disrespectful and unfeeling. “It isn’t cricket,” he would say sorrowfully — and then set out to do something about it.

After the double blow of a heart attack and a stroke, Bedi found solace in his family, his wife Anju, son Angad, daughter Neha, and their children whom he adored. “You know,” he told me often, “I realise I was so lucky in my life.”

So were we — to know him, this man of integrity, wisdom and wit. The last of his type.

Indian cricket fans watch the match between India and Pakistan in the ICC Cricket World Cup 2023, at Narendra Modi Stadium, in Ahmedabad on October 14, 2023.
| Photo Credit: ANI

India’s cricket in the World Cup so far has been excellent. Things are falling into place with a rapidity that must worry the other teams, although one hopes that New Zealand get a fair tilt. They were denied in 2019 when they lost the final to England through a combination of bad luck, bad rules and bad umpiring.

However, in denying visas for fans from Pakistan, India have displayed a churlishness that sits badly on a nation of its size and influence. The Board of Control for Cricket in India has been acting like an arm of the government since the Home Minister’s son took over as its secretary. In India, sport is politics.

The most telling comment after the much-hyped but ultimately one-sided India-Pakistan encounter came from Pakistan’s team director Mickey Arthur. “It didn’t seem like an International Cricket Council (ICC) event; it seemed like a (domestic) BCCI event,” he said referring to the lack of Pakistan supporters in the vast Narendra Modi stadium in Ahmedabad.

The website ESPNcricinfo calculated there were just four American-Pakistanis to cheer the team. Only a handful of journalists got visas. In 2011, about 6,500 visas were issued for fans from Pakistan for the semifinal in Mohali where India and Pakistan met.

Sport can divide peoples just as easily as it can bring them together if that is what the government of the day wants.

Pakistan has been painted as India’s ‘other’, the enemy who encourages terrorism. As a political entity, Pakistan have lived up to this image often enough, with the attacks in Mumbai in 2008 and the wars fought between the two countries a matter of historical record.

The worst insult a politician (and the trolling fraternity) can deliver to a dissenting citizen is: “Go live in Pakistan!” Nuance is not a quality either possesses. You can, however, cheer for an India win while bemoaning that fans of the other side were not allowed into the country. Once it was decided that the cricket team was welcome, visas for fans should have followed.

That the visas for the team were delayed, as was the visa for the Pakistan-born Australian opener Usman Khwaja when that country toured earlier points to a pattern.

Sporting competition is not just about two teams facing each other. If that were the case, we wouldn’t need big stadiums. Supporters play a role too, cheering and living vicariously through the feats of those actually performing.

Whenever Indian and Pakistani fans have got together to watch their teams, they have been grateful for the chance. Many wear outfits with half the colours of one team and half the other’s. Some carry flags stitched together to emphasise oneness. Each group has supported its own team. Some sections from both groups have tended to overdo things, but that is not unusual.

Player-taunting

Pakistani players were taunted with religious chants in Ahmedabad. This is in keeping with the attitude of the visa-denying authorities. Pakistani fans have taunted Indian players too in the past. In fact, player-taunting is a traditional sport in stadiums around the world. There are rules in place to handle racism in the chants, but none that deal with religion or gender identity.

It is ironical that for all their animosity towards Pakistan, the authorities love an India-Pakistan cricket match. It is a huge money-spinner, it gives politicians an opportunity to be seen by millions on television (the Home Minister was seen waving the victory sign once it became clear India were winning), and there is the feel-good factor which distracts from political, social and economic issues. It is the same in Pakistan too.

The fond hope now is that the two clash in the final at the same venue. It will be interesting to see politicians appear or disappear depending on how their team is faring. There is a chance that the teams might meet earlier, in the semifinal; if they do, then obviously only one will play the final.

Now with India hoping to bid for the 2036 Olympics, they will have to work on ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’ (the world is one family), the theme that was given yet another airing at the G20 meeting recently. The International Olympic Committee may not take kindly to selective hosting.