Viru update

“There is little I can do. At the moment I would leave for London with my wife (Aarti) and son Aryaveer,” Sehwag said.

The injury and after, from Viru Sehwag.

Unhonored, unsung – but should they be?

I’m an unabashed fielding freak, and feed off the electricity of those unlooked-for moments of athleticism that can light up a contest.

For all its ‘team’ ethos, cricket is essentially a one-on-one game, a contest between bowler and batsman, with victory and defeat being appropriated by the one or the other, depending on whether the ball went out of the ground or onto the stumps.

Every once in a while, though, a fielder produces a moment of magic that hijacks the spotlight and captures the collective imagination – and the tragedy of cricket is that while batsmen and bowlers are constantly evaluated through a plethora of statistical tools and celebrated endlessly in prose, fielders and their breathtaking displays get at best passing mention in a match report.

Rob Steen finally redresses that balance, with a lovely piece on cricket’s unsung foot-soldiers.

This highly unsatisfactory state of affairs has seldom been better exemplified than when Rahul Dravid recently overtook Mark Waugh’s record of Test catches by an outfielder, a feat that rightly drew plaudits aplenty in India and beyond. But what, beyond durability and longevity, did it signify? That Dravid – who took six more games to reach 182 than Waugh required to pouch his 181 – is the more capable or reliable? Hardly. That Dravid has achieved higher standards of excellence? No chance. For all his unflappability, for all that enviable ability to remain still, to anticipate, to coordinate hands and eyes with uncanny consistency, nobody who has seen both strut their considerable stuff would put him in the same ballpark as Waugh for jaw-dropping athleticism.

It gets worse when one considers history’s backward-points and cover prowlers, the Paul Collingwoods, Ricky Pontings and Tillekeratne Dilshans, the Colin Blands, Jonty Rhodeses and Clive Lloyds, the Learie Constantines, Derek Randalls and Neil Harveys, much less those, such as Andrew Symonds, who reign supreme in the deep. Trading less in hitting stumps than stopping runs, as often by presence and reputation as by agility, alacrity and accuracy, their accomplishments are appreciated by cameras, crowds and colleagues, yet go scandalously unrecognised by the scorebook.

Conventional wisdom is that fielding – especially in context of teams such as India, stereotypically lethargic in the field — has really come into its own only in modern times. Really? Think of a close catching cordon that reads: Syed Abid Ali, Sunil Gavaskar, Ajit Wadekar backed by S Venkatraghavan at gully and Eknath Solkar – that short leg specialists’ specialist – in the leg trap, aided and abetted by Syed Kirmani behind the stumps. Now name me a modern-day Indian equivalent to match that line up. [And since Mark Waugh's name came up in Rob's post, compare contemporary Aussie lineups against one that reads the Chappell brothers, Ian Redpath, Doug Walters, Paul Sheehan and Ashley Mallett, and try to top that cordon for close catching.]

Comment cue for you: The most memorable fielding display you’ve ever seen?

Mine has to be the England versus India Test, January 1973, Chepauk. In the first innings Eknath Solkar, standing closer to the bat than any short leg before or since, was directly involved in three of Bhagwat Chandrasekhar’s six wickets and, by his presence alone, responsible for all ten wickets that fell to the spin troika in the first innings. A Solkar at short leg meant that the batsmen facing Bedi, Prasanna and Chandrasekhar had the options of playing back or pushing out to leg denied them; their options severely restricted, they were forced to try and play off-side, keeping their body between the ball and Ekki, and such a handicap when playing master spinners on top of their game proved too much for England’s finest.

Bedi opened the bowling with Solkar in the second innings, and in tandem with his cohorts had gotten England down to four down for very little. England skipper Tony Greig came out to join Mike Denness, who alone seemed untroubled by the subtleties of Bedi and Prasanna and the vicious spin and bounce of Chandrasekhar.

From the moment he took strike, Greig operated to a plan. Stretching his front foot well out [and when the tall Greig plonks his front foot forward at full stretch, that is almost half the pitch covered] he took to holding his bat in defensive position at an acute angle to the pitch, and smothering everything coming at him.

The stands hummed with initial anticipation, then disgust, as Greig successfully resisted the spin troika while Denness continued to stroke the ball. Wadekar kept switching his bowlers around, but nothing seemed to work. He finally took a punt and tossed the ball to Salim Durrani, who was in the middle of his sixes-on-demand comeback series. Durrani bowled a flighted topspinner; Greig stretched well forward in defense, and you’d have sworn the bat was at a 20 — okay, 30, tops — degree angle to the pitch.

What we saw next was a swarm of white-flanneled Indians crowding around Ekki. Inching ever closer at short leg, the supreme athlete had, just as Greig lunged in defense, flung himself forward and got his hands under the ball as it fell to earth off the inert bat.

Those were the days before television, and the endless replays brought to you by sponsors — that one live glimpse is all we had; yet, at the end of a Test that India scrambled to win, losing 6 wickets in the process of chasing a modest 86 and needing Tiger Pataudi and Sunil Gavaskar, batting in that innings with an injured finger and coming in at number eight to take them through, the only thing we could talk about — with graphic demonstrations for the benefit of those who were unlucky enough to have been seated on the ‘wrong’ side of the stands — was that stunner from Solkar.

Oh, by the way — once Greig went, England folded to the combined wiles of Prasanna and Bedi. The only star of the England second innings was Denness, who looked good for a century until Prasanna sent down a vicious off break; the ball hit the inner edge of the bat, grazed the pad, and headed to earth. Only, Solkar got there first. Again.

What is the Sehwag ‘issue’?

A couple of years ago, a leading media group asked Shoaib Akthar to fly down to India to take part in a promotional road show. The Pakistan quick turned down the invite [no, not warts -- the problem that time was time, which he said he didn't have].

The sports editor of the media group called one of his reporters and ordered him to “take Akthar’s ass”. The reporter called up a few perennial malcontents in Pakistan, got some “quotes”, and stitched together a story of how Akthar’s action was “still suspect” and was causing some consternation in Pakistan’s cricketing circles.

Memo to media group in question: Pissed? Good — may I recommend to you the witty wisdom of someone who, responding to a question by NYT journalist David Pogue on Twitter, recast an old saying thus: If the shoe fits… buy two!

The incident comes repeatedly to mind against the backdrop of the ongoing fuss about MS Dhoni and his comments to the media — stories such as this one, by a leading media group.

On Tuesday, Sehwag batted for just an over-and-a-half at the nets before leaving — a sure pointer that he hadn’t recovered from injury. So when Dhoni arrived at the pre-match media briefing, alone this time, the first question he faced was on Sehwag’s fitness.

His response was a cold, “I don’t want to say anything on fitness issues. BCCI will be issuing a release.”

Why, exactly, is that response “cold”?

When said media group first “broke” the story of “tensions” between MS Dhoni and his vice captain, it had reported that the Indian skipper had pointedly suggested that questions relating to fitness be directed to the manager and physio. Which part of that did reporters not understand?

There is more “drama” in this MSN report.

Though to be fair to the media, the entire story would have been to rest had either Dhoni or the team manager spoken out and clarified on the status of Sehwag’s injury. However, one doesn’t know if there was a directive from the BCCI to the team management to keep mum on Sehwag’s injury. The more disconcerting point is that there is obviously a leak in the Indian team who is feeding pieces of information to the media, and this won’t help the cause of the team one bit.

I’m still trying to get this. Here’s the sequence, shorn of frills: A player gets injured in the IPL. Preliminary reads suggest that the injured area could possibly recover with regular treatment, so he is picked for the next tournament. Days pass, the injury doesn’t heal as well as it was initially expected to. The player tries out in the nets, but pain recurs and he gives up inside of five minutes. The physio and attending doctor(s) decide the injury requires surgical correction; the BCCI decides to fly the player back home and fly out a replacement.

That is what happened – and that is all that happened, so wherefore the fuss? As to the ‘disconcerting point’ about a leak within the Indian team — oh yes, the ubiquitous ’source’ who shall be unnamed, and who is in the nature of the tribe prone to hallucinating? Because, seriously, what is there about an injury that can cause a ‘rift’ in the team?

Why do I get the feeling that a journo with an overactive imagination floated a story concocted out of thin air, got called on it, and sections of the media have since joined ranks and will continue to fan a rumor that has since been denied, by citing it at every conceivable opportunity?

George Binoy on Cricinfo:

That the injury to Sehwag was such a closely-guarded secret was perplexing. An injury is after all merely an injury and a more transparent dissemination of information from the team management would go a long way in diffusing the ambiguity and speculation that often surrounds the Indian team. Perhaps they could follow Ireland’s example – moments before Dhoni addressed the media, William Porterfield had spoken at length about the injury to Niall O’Brien.

Fair point. A question to Binoy and others who have been following this story: Did any of you at any time after landing in England and watching Sehwag play spectator at the nets ask the team physio or the manager about the status of the player? If yes, what was the response? If not, why not?

Dead eye Dicks

Just look at the roll of honour. On Friday we had Paul Collingwood not knowing where to look and Jeroen Smits not knowing how to avoid saying “I told you so”. On Saturday Chris Gayle looked cool again. On Sunday it was Collingwood’s relief and the affectations of Younus Khan. And yesterday there was the possibly unprecedented sight of an international coach, Jamie Siddons, berating the shot-selection of his own captain, Mohammad Ashraful, while his captain was sitting head bowed to his left. And then came Ricky Ponting.

The action on the field has been pretty good too. Stuart Broad’s meltdown followed by Stuart Broad’s comeback. Gayle’s sixes on to the road and the roof. Mike Hussey’s fluffed catch. Kevin Pietersen turning his back on twos with distinctly regal waves. Ajantha Mendis beguiling the Aussies and Tillekeratne Dilshan moving to a half-century by flicking the ball over both his head and Brad Haddin’s. The O’Brien brothers. Stumps for goalposts. Marvellous! Not proper cricket? How about proper sport in that case?

Twenty20 will never win over a certain section of the cricket community, because – as we keep being told – it lacks the protracted ebb and flow provided by the Test match. Of course it does. So does every form of sport played that lasts less than five days. But that is not in itself a reason to dislike it. If the storyline of the recent Indian Premier League (last year’s two duffers reach the final) wasn’t enough to convince you that Twenty20 can throw up some good yarns too, then perhaps the last few days have helped sway you.

Lawrence Booth says T20s capacity to entertain distills the true essence of sport. But then he was writing before the first of yesterday’s double-header. Once ‘good Pak’ decided to turn up for the Super Eights-deciding game against the Netherlands, that game was pretty much done and dusted. Not that Pakistan has hit top gear — not even close. But even coasting, the team had too many guns for a Dutch outfit long on enthusiasm and short on game-breakers of the highest class.

The second game, between the Proteas and the Kiwis, was inconsequential in the Super Eights scheme of things, but worth your while for random moments of cricketing magic — mostly related to the fielding. When South Africa batted — and, inexplicably, went from 47/0 after six to 61/1 in 10, 68/4 in 13 and 94/5 after 16 [that is 47 runs for five wickets in 10 overs after the power plays] — what caught the eye was the fielding of the Kiwis.

Ross Taylor and Martin Guptill bring a whole new dimension to the art of fielding at cover and mid off — Taylor races around along the line towards extra cover and slides as if the outfield were greased for his benefit; Guptill races towards his partner and is perfectly positioned to collect the relay pass and fire the throw in to the keeper… I’ve seen that done any number of times this past decade, but rarely with such remarkable consistency.

In passing, Brendan McCullum must have been just about the happiest bloke in the field — he is finally getting to lead a side that doesn’t leak runs through every conceivable orifice. The Kiwi skipper in fact set the ball rolling in the 8th over when, fielding at short midwicket, he intercepted a short arm hit by Graeme Smith off the hugely impressive Ian Butler, half spun and fired an underarm flick — all done so fast that Jacques Kallis, who had taken a bit of a start and who with his size turns with all the ponderous majesty of the Titanic, didn’t have time to stretch his bat back into his crease.

One passage of play pretty much exemplified the intensity the two sides brought to the game. AB de Villiers — who I thought is batting astonishingly low at six — had started off like he was warming up against throw downs, with a fluent single to get off the mark, a contemptuous pull off the second delivery he faced and a cover drive hit like a virtuoso. His stroke play is a delight but for me, he stands out for unrivaled  foot speed between wickets. In the 15th over, Jean Paul Duminy stroked one out to long off; AB took the first run before you could blink and called for the second; Guptill raced in off the fence, collected, and fired a throw that thudded into the stumps and AB was, improbably, caught inches short.

It was the first time he had been run out in T20s — and it took a superlative fielding outfit to bring it about. South Africa have the stars [Watching AB at point and Gibbs at cover is as good as going to Disneyland. No. Better.]; the Kiwis don’t crackle with the same sort of obvious electricity, but collectively they’ve got to rate as the best all-round fielding unit in this competition, even with some of their better performers nursing injuries/illnesses of various kinds.

And so on to today, and another double-header that in the larger scheme of things means little. But it’s Sri Lanka versus a Gayle-less West Indies in the first game, and India plays [okay, against Ireland, but still] in the second, so there will hopefully be reason to tune in.

Vox

One of the delights of the T20 World Cup has been the commentary. Even allowing for he occasional cliche-riddled specimen the broadcasters’ quota-driven recruitment throws up, the standard has been streets ahead of those set by IPL’s band of hyperventilating hypemeisters who appeared to operate on the theory that if you scream something loud enough and often enough, it will somehow seep into the public consciousness and take root there.

The atmosphere is fan-TASTIC! The crowds are abso-LUTELY amazing! [Aside to cameraman: No, no, don't show those empty stands]. The T20 magazine is on the stands all over the world and it is absolutely fantastic, with great articles and great pictures and there is even an interview with Lalit Modi!!! That was a fan-tastic shot! Hit right off the middle of the bat — and a fan-tastic bit of fielding at mid off, no run…

Yeah, sometime in the first hour of the first game, we got the point — everything is fan-tastic! The fours brought to you by Airtel, the sixes DLF Maximums brought to you by — surprise — DLF…

When I cribbed about the commentary after a particularly trying phase ["That is improbable because the probability factor is less"], he told me it wasn’t easy to talk live. You should try it sometime, he advised. Thing is, I have. Had. For the 2000 World Cup, Rediff had the bright idea of streaming audio commentary, and by the time the tournament was over I was heartily sick of commentary, cricket, and everything associated.

I’d get locked into this soundproof studio on our premises some 15 minutes before the game. I wasn’t allowed to take drinks in there [no tea, coffee, nothing] or eats;  there was no relief since I was the only commentator, so I ended up in that room, talking three and a half hours non-stop, running off to take a leak and have some coffee, then getting back in there to do it all over again for the second innings.

Hated every damn  moment of it.

I agree — talking live is tough; finding the right balance between shrill and somnolent is tough; staying out of cliche territory while trying to talk around the visuals is tough ["That was a great cover drive" -- Err, how the hell does a great cover drive differ from the ordinary sort, for a guy who is listening to you?] — but that is the point, really: it is a demanding profession but if the practitioner is willing to work at it, it can be done and done well.

Hence the delight as we listen to the acerbic Mike Atherton, or the dry to-the-point prose of Ian Chappell [They were discussing fielding the other day, and wondering why Pakistan was stuffing up. The co-commentator suggested that maybe they don't practice enough. "It depends on what you are practicing," Chappelli chipped in. "You could be practicing your mistakes."]

The WC has fielded a great lineup, with the odd exception and even so  – color me biased, if you will — the best periods are when Harsha Bhogle teams up with Anil Kumble. They are not much given to superlatives — to get a ‘fantastic‘ out of them, the on-field action actually has to merit it. And Anil is in my book the MVP of the commentary team: a distinctive voice, a calm, measured delivery that reeks of authority.

“He was understandably a bit nervous to start of with,” Harsha said in mail just now in response to a note from me. “But he is very earnest; he asks about how he is doing and looks to improve. He was asking if he sounded energetic enough — I suggested to him that he talk to someone about ten yards away. His second stint in the studio was already significantly better than the first. He is keen to speak with the producers about how he is doing and how he can add something different — in all, good to have him.”

Amen!

PostScript:  Credit Sunil Gavaskar with this story. He was once sharing the box with Richie Benaud. Someone — Kim Hughes, I think — had just hit a century, and Sunny went into ecstasies. Or started to, but then he noticed Benaud holding his hand up, so he shut up, thinking the senior commentator wanted to say something.

Benaud let the silence build, and then at one point, gestured that SMG should  start talking. At the end of the session, Gavaskar went to the producers, asked them to replay that bit for him, and realized what Benaud had just taught him. The batsman taking off his helmet and kissing the crest, his partner and even his opponents coming up to congratulate him, the crowd rising to its feet to vocally acclaim a brilliant innings — the visuals spoke volumes, the commentator didn’t need to.