Sport

When more is less

Today, cricket is over-promoted, over-marketed, oversold and overrated, writes Nirmal Shekar

There is a crisis brewing in cricket and it may very well be the best thing that has happened to the sport in a long time. For, it might, at last, force the movers and shakers in the game to think — for once — beyond the next multi-million dollar deal and re-evaluate the state of the game and its future.

The cause of the crisis is simple: there is too much international cricket, too little genuine class. This has given rise to a situation where even the die-hard fans have come to realise that more is actually less in most cases, and especially so in a sport played seriously by less than 10 nations.

Television channels are pulling out of cricket telecast deals with the sort of haste you might spot in panicky coastal area residents following a tsunami warning. Advertisers, for their part, are no longer jostling one another to get to the head of the queue to get on the Great Indian Gravy Train.

The gold rush may not be over; but, probably, the one commodity — cricket — that appeared immune to the laws of economics in this country may finally be running into some sort of consumer resistance.

Not too many takers

The `revenge series' in Bangladesh is over. But, going by reports, there weren't too many takers, I am told — both at the venues and on TV. A few thousand miles away, a very, very average England side is thrashing the West Indies in a stunning role reversal that may see the great Malcolm Marshall toss and turn in his grave.

The truth is, today's cricket is over-promoted, over-marketed, oversold and overrated. Television money has catapulted plain human greed to stratospheric levels and a vicious combination of factors has left the great sport teetering on the precipice.

A decade ago, there was the great hope that cricket would become a world sport like football and tennis. Right now, advertisers on television would be happy if a few thousand viewers managed to keep their eyes open all day long when India plays Bangladesh or when England takes on the West Indies.

You don't require Einstein's genius to figure out cricket's hierarchy today. There is one great team (Australia), far, far away from a bunch of now-good, then-average sides (South Africa, Sri Lanka, England, New Zealand, India and Pakistan) some of whom might suggest now and again that they are ready to shed the `average' tag but without any consistent success. Then there are the punching bags such as Bangladesh, West Indies (minus Lara) and Zimbabwe.

Mediocrity

In a sport played by 10 nations, why is there so much mediocrity? In a sport that has given us a Bradman and a Sobers and a Lara and a Warne, why isn't there greater depth to make way for thrill-a-minute matches that go all the way to the wire?

Over the last two decades, as cricket moved into overdrive as a money-spinner, in terms of genuine class down the pecking order, it has actually been on reverse gear.

For all the fizz about the game in this country, for all the heroics of Ricky Ponting and the Australian juggernaut, across the board, cricket has not merely stagnated but has actually declined as a high-quality competitive sport.

There are several reasons for this downturn, among them the seemingly terminal decline of the game in the Caribbean islands. But, then, you can only control what you can control. There is little point in shedding tears over changing socio-cultural trends in the West Indies or about the political mess in Zimbabwe.

Instead, with the right sort of administrative vision, it may be possible to spruce up the game. As a bold first step, the ICC must re-draw its Future Tours Programme.

Scary scenario

Take a look at India's international calendar over the next 10 months and you will understand what I am talking about. It is scary. Nobody can play that much cricket and play it consistently well. It is impossible, even if the Tendulkars, Dravids and Dhonis turned out to be as fit and uncomplaining as Japanese assembly line robots.

A Test match in sweltering Dhaka in the height of the summer in the sub-continent, a few meaningless Afro-Asian Cup matches, then a few ODIs against South Africa in the spiritual heartland (!) of world cricket, Ireland — all this before a long and hard tour of England during which the team plays four Tests and seven ODIs before quickly packing up and catching a plane to Johannesburg for the Twenty20 World Cup.

After all this, and after the home series in October and November, when Dravid and his boys land up in Ponting country for a `prestigious' tour in December, you can imagine what they might have to offer.

How did such a situation come about? Money. Greed. A great game has been milked dry.

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