The Hindu : Why do we watch cricket?

Online edition of India's National Newspaper
Friday, Mar 14, 2003

Sport

Sport - World Cup

Why do we watch cricket?

By Nirmal Shekar

It happened twice in succession. And the big question, which has always agitated my mind, raised its head again.

The first time was when Glenn McGrath and Brett Lee flattened Kiwi hopes like lumberjacks at work in the Brazilian rain forest. There was sepulchral silence in the room where a group of Indian fans were watching the Aussie executioners go about their business.

Then it happened again on Wednesday. As Martin Suji and Collins Obuya made the Zimbabwe batsmen dance to their tune and then Thomas Odoyo and Maurice Odumbe lifted themselves and their team to undreamt of stratospheric heights — the World Cup semifinals — a group of Indian fans watching the Kenyan triumph broke into spontaneous applause.

So, the question cropped up again in my mind: Why do we watch sport?

At a time when tens of millions in this country and a lot short of that number elsewhere in the world are glued to television screens, indiscriminately lapping up everything on offer, such a question might seem at once ludicrous and out of place. Amidst the busy Cup schedule, many would rather take in the drama than ponder the seemingly silly, laughable question.

Yet, over the last few days, this question has invaded my mind and pushed everything else into the background. Through the day, and night, it would pop up at the most unlikely hour, drawing one's attention away from whatever it was one had focussed on.

What made for the funeral parlour atmosphere when Lee's glee loomed large on the TV screen? And what was the reason for so many Indians to celebrate a Kenyan triumph?

Surely, the consistent excellence displayed by McGrath and Lee deserved to be appreciated by people who know their cricket and enjoy it, as much as the heroics of the unheralded Kenyans, who are not even part of the Test playing elite.

But the difference was this: the Kenyan success tasted sweet because it meant that they — and not an accomplished Test playing nation with pedigree players — would be playing India in the semifinals. It is as simple as that.

And the brilliance of McGrath and Lee made for long faces because they would, probably, be at it again on March 23 in Johannesburg when Sourav Ganguly and his men would _ should they beat Kenya as expected _ hope to get millions of dreams to shake hands with glorious reality.

Sporting fireworks, it would seem, come in different brand names. And when the wrong ones are set off at the wrong time and place, they lose their appeal to the vast majority.

Sorry Mr. McGrath, the brand name doesn't jell. Sorry Mr. Lee, we were looking for something else. We want to be Indian, we buy only Indian!

But, then, should not the true sports fan, the true connoisseur, ignore national — and whatever other — barriers in the blissful moment of transcendental sporting pleasure? After all, is a great burst of fast bowling from McGrath any less awesome than a few magnificent overs sent down by Javagal Srinath?

Logical question? Maybe, maybe not. Depends on where you stand. It depends on whether you want to wave the tricolour passionately at a ball game or keep it under lock and key and use it only for Kargil-type situations, where the great Flag belongs.

So, here we are, once again face-to-face with the big question: why, really why, do we watch sport? What is it we look for when we witness a contest between two teams or two individuals? What is the source of our happiness or despair when we find ourselves in the stands or in front of the TV screen?

The famous American editor, Henry Mencken, believed that war was the only sport that was genuinely amusing, the only one that had any intelligible use. But the legendary Roman emperors who threw slaves into the ring with hungry lions did not think so. They kept themselves, and an assortment of "nobility" amused by watching ill-fed animals tear human beings apart.

And the expression on the faces of those who watched the unequal contests between man and animal thousands of years ago in the coliseums of Rome may have a lot in common with the reactions of boxing fans in the United States and elsewhere who take pleasure in watching a pair of sane adults batter each other's brains to a pulp.

In the event, we do know now that not all of us watch sport — whether it is cricket or boxing or anything else — for the same reason. If we did, there would be very few in the stands and in front of TV screens — as is true of South Africa in this World Cup after the departure of the home side — and sport will not be as big as it is today.

Sport (read cricket in this context) means different things to different people — it caters to a different set of needs in different people. But, to a vast majority all over the world, its success can be traced to the fact that sport offers them the chance to engage in emotional risk.

In his fascinating book, The Soccer Tribe, Desmond Morris makes a brilliant analysis and reflects on the emotions that lead to a heightening of bonds between people and allow for a sense of collective involvement.

These few weeks, as the cricket caravan moves across southern Africa, you would have surely witnessed this phenomenon everywhere — from the pavements where passers by gather to peek into a TV screen in a departmental store to public bars and the big screens on the beach-front.

For the most part, the central feature of this phenomenon is emotionality. This is the reason why the people who threaten to bring the roof down cheering for a Sachin Tendulkar cannot so much as put their hands together for an Adam Gilchrist. Quite simply, they cannot identify with the "cause" propelled by Gilchrist's brilliance.

It is down to the "cause" really. And the cause is an Indian triumph. This writer is as fiercely patriotic as his neighbour, as proud of his Indian heritage as anybody born in this great land of ours.

But, frankly, to me, jingoism, such narrow interpretations of national "cause," and sport don't go together. To us, it doesn't affect our own sense of self-esteem or sense of pride as an Indian if a Gilchrist takes a Nehra apart. Our sense of self-assurance and national pride have other sources, deeper meanings.

"England is not ruined because sinewy brown men from a distant colony sometimes hit a ball further and oftener than our men do," wrote the great essayist J.B. Priestley, in an obvious reference to West Indies' success against England in the 1960s.As the Indian team prepares to take on Kenya for a place in the World Cup final, some of you may accept this view. Others may not. But both sides will agree that there are many different reasons why we watch and enjoy cricket.

May the best team win!

Printer friendly page
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail

Sport