By Rajdeep Sardesai
Nearly two decades ago, a prominent Hindi news channel showcased a flagship cricket show provocatively titled, ‘Match Ka mujrim’ (Criminal of the Match). With a boisterous audience, live voting via SMS and by pitting cricket pundits against each other, the aim in a rather perverse way was to identify the ‘villain’ of the day, the player who had let the team down. A TV studio became a gladiatorial ring, a cricket crazy crowd was transformed into a lynch mob, lines between fandom and tamasha were blurred. Years later, the frenzied blame game continues as angry reactions to India’s defeat in the World Cup final have proven. It would seem almost as if most Indians don’t know how to handle defeat with grace.
From blaming the slow pitch to questioning the choice of Ahmedabad as a venue for the finals to targeting the all-powerful cricket board supremo Jay Shah to even bizarrely labelling prime minister Modi as a ‘panauti’ (bad omen) only because he attended the match, it seems that there are an entire row of ‘mujrims’ (criminals) being lined up to face trial in the court of public opinion. Few are willing to acknowledge the immutable truth: Australia played the perfect one day match; India which until that moment were on a remarkable run of wins simply did not.
The fickleness of fan behavior in labelling a team as modern-day invincibles one day to dismissing them as chokers the very next is hardly new. Recall how in 1971, the Indian cricket team received a ticker-tape welcome in Mumbai after defeating England for the first time in an overseas series. Just three years later, when we were whitewashed 3-0 by the same opponent, captain Ajit Wadekar’s home was stoned and a victory bat in Indore was defaced. Then we were an adolescent cricket nation that lost more matches than we won; now we are a front-ranking team and yet we still haven’t been able to deal with defeat with more dignity.
There was also no social media or instant messaging services to intrude into our lives in the 1970s. It was, in that sense, a gentler age. Now, we just need to type in a few words on a WhatsApp group or twitter or post a meme on Instagram to trigger an avalanche of furious responses, almost as if the entire country is seeking vicarious pleasure in the public defaming of our cricket icons when we lose a game.
Remember how a Mohammed Shami was singled out for calumny when we lost a T 20 match to Pakistan in 2021; the same Shami is now feted as the best seam bowler in the world.
At one level, the emotional roller-coaster mirrors the hyper-nationalism that is integral to cricket’s role in contemporary Indian society. Cricket is no longer just a sport, it is an extension of our national identity, of our unfulfilled desire to be seen as a genuine global super-power. We may not be a permanent member of the United Nations Security Council but in cricketing matters, we do have veto power. This status as the unquestioned big boss of sport has bred hubris, an unshaken belief that India was almost pre-ordained to win the World Cup because we were, after all, the most powerful cricketing nation by some distance. What we forgot in the process is that while limitless financial resources allow you to bully others beyond the boundary, bank balances cannot determine on-field match outcomes.
At another level, the unwillingness to accept defeat with poise is the direct consequence of an idolatry culture that celebrates individual heroes but doesn’t embrace the spirit of sport. Anyone who watched Star Sports – the official World Cup broadcaster – during the tournament would have noticed the endless stream of programmes devoted to Virat Kohli. While Kohli is an absolute superstar and arguably the greatest one day batsman ever, the gushing adoration bordering on feudal devotion to a single player in a team sport is infuriating, even nauseating at times. Which partly explains the extreme responses: when Kohli scores his 50th record-breaking ton in Mumbai, he is elevated to God-like status but when he struggles in the final against Australia, he suddenly is accused of faltering under big match pressure.
This hero-worshipping cult stretches from cricket to politics. When even the historic Chandrayaan-3 moon landing moment becomes part of a relentless government propaganda machine where the prime minister is shown sharing credit with our space scientists, then it is almost inevitable that Mr Modi’s presence at a cricket final will attract undue attention. Just as the applause for the Chandrayaan achievement must focus solely on the scientific community, so also the post-mortems for defeat in a cricket match must not needlessly drag in political figures. If today the Congress raises the ‘panauti’ barb against Mr Modi, the BJP could well remind people of how Indira Gandhi was in attendance when Pakistan defeated India 7-1 in the 1982 Asian hockey finals in New Delhi. Superstitious beliefs can rapidly descend into inanities that cut across the political divide.
Which is why it might be time for a reality check, be it in sports or politics. Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar warned against a personality cult in the context of politics: ‘Bhakti or hero-worship is a sure road to degradation and to eventual dictatorship’. Sadly that warning has gone unheeded and larger than life autocratic figures dominate our political landscape. Now, in cricket too, we need to perhaps strike a cautionary note: our men in blue are a group of hugely talented individuals who have earned their place in the Indian team through sheer merit. They will probably win more than they will lose but victory-defeat margins in sport at the elite level are notoriously wafer-thin. The intrinsic value of sport is to be celebrated for the pursuit of excellence, not by treating the game as a ‘do or die’ war without weapons and the players as soldiers in uniform. A war leaves you with painful images of death and destruction; a sport must engulf you with joyous memories.
Post-script: In the aftermath of the final, there was much chatter about the prime minister visiting the defeated Indian team in the dressing room. Frankly, the prime minister’s interaction could be seen as a morale booster. The only question: did the intrusive camera have to capture what is surely a private space for the players?
(The writer is senior journalist and author. mail: [email protected])