Of Sanjay Manjrekar and L.Sivaramakrishnan

The new Indian cricket commentator in English. 

Of the second tier of Indian commentators in English, comprising mostly of cricketers who played for India since 1990, Sanjay Manjrekar and L.Sivaramakrishnan have the most exposure.

Of course Rahul Dravid, Saurav Ganguly, VVS Laxman and Navjot Singh Sidhu all appear in the commentator’s studio from time to time, but none of them have done series after series consistently. In case of the first three, mostly it seems like that they are recently retired and still value the family time that they have been able to get, and that having being been some of the highest paid Indian cricketers of the last decade, they do not need the remunerative aspect of commentating. VVS also makes mistakes in English, but its hard to dislike that or make any issue with that because his enthusiasm comes through and makes you smile (and of course its not our first language so grammar can go take a hike).

Sidhu of course, was the original star of the this 2^nd generation of commentators, the progenitor of bad jokes; he has had to pay a huge price for his popularity as TV studios have swooped in to put him up in reality TV in a big way – almost to the extent of ruining his political career.

Akash Chopra and  Murali Kartik have recently started appearing in Ten/Neo sports cricket coverage – but those are basically cut price outfits which are not willing to pay anything for a decent producer to direct the show - the conversations don’t seem go anywhere, and the quality of coverage suggests that it had been recorded on second hand 80s equipment.  Akash Chopra of course also now taps into the Cricinfo mega network, and now Murali has managed to get into 2014-15 Border Gavaskar commentary.

But Sanjay - he is really maturing as a commentator. I think the best thing is that he has been given the hard task of introducing each random commercial segment of the pre-post match shows. Where he has to say Lava Super Fours. And he is almost apologetic when he has to say - with a twisted smile, and an odd way of putting it forth. He is self effecaing enough about his own record, especially when Ganguly and Dravid are around (though he is much more senior a cricketer). And he is not pompous. Thats what I hate about Ganguly. Sanjay and Dravid together are a delight - both probably the most technically correct batsmen ever produced by India, and both are the least likely to fault any other batsmen on technical aspects; always leaving space in their comments to be not absolutely hard on anyone.

What helps Sanjay is I think his years of producing cricket compilation videos. He learnt the art of looking directly into a camera and speaking to a viewer, which is not something the rest have mastered yet - maybe Ravi Shastri and Harsha Bhogle. The rest want to talk to each other. In their living room.

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Siva - I am thankful that Siva is not doing as much commentary now  as he used to. What a terrible speaker. If his accent wasn't bad enough, his descriptions, his manner - everything. Am sure we have more English speaking ex-cricketeers than him. W.V. Raman and others who do Ranji games are so much better. Worst. Piss offs.

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[To be completed]

Apples in my garden

The supercilious tone that Ram Guha in his article Serpent in the Garden (or how The IPL is representative of the worst sides ofIndian capitalism and Indian society) uses to rubbish 20-20 cricket and the IPL should have been very familiar to me. I have been reading a battered duct-taped copy of  the Picador Book of Cricket, edited by him – and it is evident from the writings chosen therein, that either there are very few good cricketers in the modern era who can be written about, or that modern writings about cricket are not upto his mark. But it is with me, a copy which was bought by a friend, from the sweaty sale-by-the-kilo Sunday raddi book market in Daryaganj, in Old Delhi a couple of years back, for fifty rupees.

We bought that book because we had read one of Guha’s writings - his article “The Wall”. It was about Rahul Dravid and his intensity and temper, and its interpretation by an advertising firm. It took a fascinating trip through yesteryear stars and linked them up with Dravid’s style of play, and at the end only a lingering image of Dravid as a classical block test batsman should have remained. Fortunately we had tv, and could see the same Dravid scampering around the field, sometimes heaving dirty strokes, sometimes awfully trying to force the run rate. We could see that Dravid was what Mr. Guha made him to be, but also what Dravid wanted to be, which was so much more. Watching him with the young Rajasthan Royals now, you might even have been mistaken: were we reading about the same man. You see, Mr. Guha’s cricket writing had a classic problem – it was based on experiences of watching matches in stadiums - where everything is far off; where even from the best stands, nuances are missed; where even if you have the best angles, facial expressions are lost. Stadium cricket, unless done through and probably even then, a pigeon hole picture through binoculars, is an alienating experience, an experience where you have to start relying on your thoughts of what is happening in the middle, rather than being able to see the high definition broadcasters’ focus on lingering close-ups of players. Cricketers cannot be built up to be something they aren’t on the television.

But this was not a choice for the lot of us. We were not brought up in big cities.

Cuttack, which was my paternal home town, had a game played there every two-three years, and even that was 60 kilometres too far away.  As kids, we had to watch Azharuddin and Sachin in borrowed time in neighbours’ houses, sometimes even going to the extent of stealthily plugging an antenna wire into their cable connections. For us, cricket played professionally in stadiums, cricket played in clubs, that always was entertainment. Our cricket was not the maidan cricket so fondly spoken of by Indian cricket commentators; that was the cricket played in cities, that lead to professional club cricket, and to Ranji representation.

We played our cricket in anywheres - school fields, colony fields, fields in government bus stands and fields in the tehsildar compounds. Wickets were chappals, or in better times, bricks. Tennis balls and duct taped balls, and matted wickets, all these were too costly for us; we played with cork balls which weighed a ton, and would break a bone if they hit us. But they lasted ages. That was our cricket. No structure to it, no coach to it, no club for it. The crooked arm was not a no-ball. Cricket which came on TV was just that, an additive live show, which we could understand and adulate because it was bat and ball. Our cricket was separate from that cricket. So there was not much to worry about when IPL came. We never had the privilege of cricket association memberships, of 5 day gaps in our professional aspirations, club memberships or even players representing our states in the Indian team. We had nothing to lose. For us, IPL brought cricket home in a month that was traditionally dry; IPL managed to allow us cricket at a time and in a format which suited us; for lots of us IPL managed to allow us access to tickets which were reserved only for association members and pass holders, and if anything, IPL helped us glimpse cricketers whom we were not allowed to see earlier.

For us IPL was a sort of democratisation for the cricket experience.

But for all that IPL gives us, we probably have a more objective way of looking at it than Mr. Guha does. That IPL could not have been done without the franchise model – the investment required to pay the players, the coaches, the talent hunters, and to run the team at that scale required private capital. So far this lack of capital produced shoddy domestic cricket, unfit to be broadcast and unfit to be watched on television. If the ownership was handed out after a contrived process, then the competing bidders had our best regards for the legal rights they had; but till the time the cricket was real, competitive and live, being as far removed from the our cricket as any other form of previously televised cricket, there was no reason not to watch it. 

The Soldier

It has been months since I wrote on cricket. The interest to watch had never waned, but the desire to write certainly had. I watched with frustration as the Indian batting struggled in SriLanka . The feeling changed to irritation as the latest battle between the Fourth Estate and the Indian veterans reached ludicrous levels. Yet, none of these emotions were so strong as to be represented in words. Ganguly's retirement plans almost forced me to tap the keyboard again. But, there was still a mental block to be overcome. The block was finally overcome by the retirement of India's finest test match winner - Anil Kumble.

It was inevitable that Anil Kumble would retire sometime during the 2008-2009 season. Age was catching up and the shoulder was complaining and the veteran had to bow, as all must, to Father Time. But, as Kumble was given a farewell which rivalled Steve Waugh's, it was tempting to look back on the many triumphs and the few failures which made him such a special cricketer. But, the cliche still holds, facts and figures can never do proper justice to a sportsman.

To me Kumble's greatest achievement is that in all the tests India won during the time he was in the team, he was India's foremost player - not Tendulkar or Dravid. He relentlessly rolled on, bowling over after over and ensuring that the batsmen didn't ever complain that the bowlers hadn't done their job. He was India's finest bowler, her greatest test player.

Congrats Anil for being such a great player and for rekindling a dying flame in me -writing.

Walking wickets talk

A 'walking wicket' is how Dravid and Collingwood have been described of late.

Collingwood walked into what might have been his last Test innings, and rescued a crumbling England in the company of Kevin 'Ego (isn't it refreshing to have Andre back?)' Pietersen.

The noise for Dravid's head is not that loud, but the irritation among the fans was clear. Ok, he hit a 90 there and a hundred here, but for a team challenging the top Test team, such a confused batsman at number 3 was a weight on the shoulders.

The subtext that King Cricket talks about, referring to Collingwood's repeated portrayal as a gritty, doughty one, is equally applicable to Dravid - who like Collingwood has broken the mould (or "the Wall") from time to time.

Dravid made some runs today, finally looking comfy against Mendis and Murali. His innings was pretty much a press release that he will only go kicking and screaming into retirement. Which is certainly good for Indian cricket, because the incumbent will have to keep doing well domestically and in ODIs. Gambhir is proof.

Rohit can wait. Owais must wait.

20000 runs is the new elephant in the room

Nobody who ever saw this partnership is likely to forget it, least of all Murali, Vaas and co.

Anyway, now that Sachin has taken himself out of the elephant equation, there is a new one for Venx The Messiah and his Gang of Merry Men to consider. How do they put 20000 runs to pasture gracefully? These are two giants of the one-day game, and sad as it may be, it is good for Indian cricket that the more athletic Rohit Sharma, Gautam Gambhir and Robin Uthappa stepped up so their absence was not felt in one of the most demanding of all ODI tournaments. Of course Dravid and Dada may still be able to contribute with the bat, and may be packed with the tactical mishmash that comes with 20000 runs, but we need to give the captain the team he wants. Having done so once, and all credit to Venx The Messiah, and may his loins bear a thousand lions, ans seen more than satisfactory results, we just need to continue doing so. Barely anything should be allowed to stand in the way of the development of Rohit Sharma, Uthappa and Gambhir. It will be unfair, not only to those three, but even to Raina, Kartik and Tiwary who have waited, to consider any sort of longish farewell for Dada and Dravid.

I don't know, but the moronically conceived Asia Cup may be the right opportunity. There is even a game against Hong Kong at Lahore.

On Dravid

Is there another batsman in the world who can be so woefully out of form, but at the same time have the mental resources to stick around so that the Divine Belly at the other end may do justice?

Uncle J Rod has suggested that Dravid be put out of his misery.

There was another man about whom similar suggestions were being made. He made a double hundred through the leg side. Some still say that Tendulkar epic in Sydney was pathetic. I say that genius reveals itself after being condemned to work.

No kamikaze for Dravid, and certainly no hemlock. He will tattoo his name on a scorecard somewhere before the series is over.

Why's everyone taking aim at Dravid?

Many television (and random) commentators still make the mistake of seeing Dravid as a one-dimensional batsman. Perhaps they're still stuck with the image of Dravid as an accumulator, fooled by his nickname into underestimating his run-scoring abilities. Bad form cannot be the reason to spread all kinds of misinformation and lies about players. I am so glad that Sanjay Jagdale decided to stand up for Dravid, reminding everyone of the explosive 92* at Bristol. Coming at three or four down in England, he averaged 37.16 - which is not too bad. The only problem is that Dravid did not play in the T20 World Cup, and now there is a clamour for his removal, forced resignation blah. Dravid, along with Yuvraj and Tendulkar are still India's best ODI batsmen. Uthappa and Gambhir have scarcely promised more than Dravid has delivered.
Patience, is all I can say.

Dravid resigns from captaincy

Has Rahul Dravid resigned from captaincy? CNN-IBN has just carried a headline saying exactly that. More on that soon, I guess.

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Well it's confirmed. He has asked to be relieved prior to the arrival of the Aussies. The only reason that Dravid has cited in his letter to the BCCI is that he wants to concentrate on his batting. He has also pledged complete support to his successor.

Under Dravid, India won eight Tests. However, his ODI record was patchy. He began on a winning streak, where India set a record for 16 consecutive successful chases. However, this was a man who captained India through a very tricky phase. He had to handle a team that was being eaten from inside by a rift between senior players and coach. At the end it also has to be said that he handled Ganguly's tricky return to the team very well. Given all these, it is remarkable that he led us to Test series victories in West Indies, Pakistan and England, and also one of our greatest ever Test wins, when we knocked South Africa down in their Jo'burg citadel. His captaincy will also be remembered for the fall-from-grace of three pillars of the Ganguly era: Sehwag, Harbhajan and Zaheer - the third of whom also made a sensational comeback under Dravid. Wasim Jaffer, Dinesh Karthik, S Sreesanth and M S Dhoni were fairly consistent performers during this all-too-brief period.

But it was also clear that captaincy was taking its toll on Dravid the batsman. The tours of South Africa and England earned him mixed returns which were well below the standards that he set himself as a professional. With a tough tour to Australia looming, India needed Dravid the batsman to be firing, and so perhaps it is just as well.

It is also quite typical of Dravid the person that he realized earlier than anyone else that his time at the helm, and in the team, would soon come to a close, and decided to make way in an understated manner.