Oh! Game of the Lords, My dear Cricket - Where art thou?
This is a satirical article on the changing shape of the game of cricket in the last 20 to 30 years.
READERS OF my generation will recall the times when cricket commentary; from a tiny transistor, glued to our ears, an extra bit of a dangling wire, twisted on to the existing aerial for a better reception, angling the transistor and its aerial to varied angles constantly to get the best reception, was a treat to listen to, not to forget the eloquent expert commentators in English, Hindi and in Kannada too, who gave defined description of ball to ball movement, that my dear friends was the ultimate cricketing experience for us youngsters of the yore. The transistor was omni present, on roads, in buses and autos, in offices, in schools and colleges; it was everywhere. Things began to change gradually and the radio commentary remained an add on to the visual pleasure of the telly that changed from black and white to colour to digital to lcd to whatever, I have lost track. West Indies and their ace pace bowler Andy Roberts and his field setting of 7 slips, well countered by perfect strokes from the likes of Gundappa Vishwanath and Gavaskar.
Nurtured hobby enjoyed as a moonlighting profession by the players, which was always a full time national obsession by the viewers, somewhere along the pitch lost its charm, and today, even a 10 year old flippantly says, “Oh! Uncle, take a chill pill, don’t sweat much about today’s match, it’s all rigged”. That is the time when I donned my thinking cap and said, “Oh! Game of the Lords, My dear Cricket – Where art thou?” How times have changed the face of the game is indeed mind boggling, especially considering the mega bucks involved in the game, which has now shifted focus from being a honourable sport to a mere entertainment event, loyalty to the state/ nation, loyalty to the game all having taken a back seat, long before we really realized with all sorts of exposures, with much remaining to be answered and revealed yet, and much more masala in the waiting for the gossip hungry ears. Once commercial advertisements became an acceptable part (read as evil), the players of the game changed their place of operation, they were no more the players of the field, they were the players off the field. Match fixing surfaced, only to be out done by bettings, rigging and whatnot. Gaming apart, these men in white went on to make an energy drink the secret of their energy, or became poster boys for clean shaving blades, razors, shaving creams, and today it is what all and what not, everything that you can think of, you can see a cricketer endorsing it, cycles to cars, packed foods to eating joints, drinks, accessories, travel plans, spas and resorts, insurance policies, you name it, they’ve got it. In the era when we talk of conserving energy, several kilo watts is burnt for the floodlit matches in the name of entertainment. In the era when we talk of being eco friendly and environment conscious several layers of ozone are polluted post every match with otherwise unacceptable fire crackers. The cheering by fans and family seemingly was inadequate to keep the players adrenaline high, hence we were introduced to skimpily dressed hired cheer leaders. Gosh! The strokes or fall of wicket being endorsed as so and so company 4 or 6; or so and so company catch, wondering what role that sponsoring company had to play in the event that happened between the players on the field. The five day test match had to compete with its new born sibling One day match, now over shadowed by the latest new born T20, that reels us back to our own gully cricket that we played during school and college days, competing with friends of different classes, different neighbourhoods, different local cricket clubs. The tea break and drinks got rechristened as strategic time out. Over the years, new players changed and rewrote the copy book with new strokes, some of them christened as reverse sweep; and some lifted above the wicket keeper or swept from off side to third man waiting to be christened. The ball changed its colour, the men in white adorned varied colours and designer clothing; the conventional bat too is on its way to the museums with newer inventions like the long handled bat making inroads. Back to the changing face of cricket, readers will recall how the men in whites battled all weathers for 5 days with a rest day. Matches were held occasionally and people would rush for the love of game, for the love of watching speeding bowlers being smashed to the fence by swash buckling batsmen. The copy book style strokes of square cuts, square drives, and copy book field setting as commentators would put it in their sometimes burly and sometimes not so burly racing voice, “mid off, mid on, long on, forward short leg, deep mid wicket, third man, slips and so on and so forth”. Slips will take your memory to The telly that has also gone through a transition by itself, started off dubbed as the idiot box of those days, has now become the devoted child of today’s senior citizens, who in many of the known cases, have been long isolated by their noble sons and daughters; but their ubiquitous inseparable companion the devoted telly remains with them to give them company, and world information. It brings home to them the movies that, with their fixed pension in the ever rising inflating world doesn’t permit them the luxury of seeing them in expensive multiplexes, not to forget the rushing crowds, commuting woes, and dark aisles that they cant battle through with sore knees and dimmed vision. It brings to them lessons of life through dedicated spiritual channels, lessons of life that they really don’t have much use for in their sunset years, lessons of life that they have endured and experienced themselves, yet ardently listen, being left with barely much choice. Readers will recall the net practice sessions during the evenings and weekends, sitting with the Bangalore heroes GRV, BSC, EASP, in the not so aesthetically designed steps of YMCA/ Central College cricket grounds, like a commoner, one among us ordinary human being. For matches held within India, we had our own His Masters Voice of Medium Wave All India Radio, but for those outside India, we would be up at all unearthly hours and amid the proverbial burning of the midnight oil, we would tune in on Short Wave and this would be best savoured as a part of combined studies in the house of – not the guy with best brains but the house of the guy with the best radio system.
Nurtured hobby enjoyed as a moonlighting profession by the players, which was always a full time national obsession by the viewers, somewhere along the pitch lost its charm, and today, even a 10 year old flippantly says, “Oh! Uncle, take a chill pill, don’t sweat much about today’s match, it’s all rigged”. That is the time when I donned my thinking cap and said, “Oh! Game of the Lords, My dear Cricket – Where art thou?” How times have changed the face of the game is indeed mind boggling, especially considering the mega bucks involved in the game, which has now shifted focus from being a honourable sport to a mere entertainment event, loyalty to the state/ nation, loyalty to the game all having taken a back seat, long before we really realized with all sorts of exposures, with much remaining to be answered and revealed yet, and much more masala in the waiting for the gossip hungry ears. Once commercial advertisements became an acceptable part (read as evil), the players of the game changed their place of operation, they were no more the players of the field, they were the players off the field. Match fixing surfaced, only to be out done by bettings, rigging and whatnot. Gaming apart, these men in white went on to make an energy drink the secret of their energy, or became poster boys for clean shaving blades, razors, shaving creams, and today it is what all and what not, everything that you can think of, you can see a cricketer endorsing it, cycles to cars, packed foods to eating joints, drinks, accessories, travel plans, spas and resorts, insurance policies, you name it, they’ve got it. In the era when we talk of conserving energy, several kilo watts is burnt for the floodlit matches in the name of entertainment. In the era when we talk of being eco friendly and environment conscious several layers of ozone are polluted post every match with otherwise unacceptable fire crackers. The cheering by fans and family seemingly was inadequate to keep the players adrenaline high, hence we were introduced to skimpily dressed hired cheer leaders. Gosh! The strokes or fall of wicket being endorsed as so and so company 4 or 6; or so and so company catch, wondering what role that sponsoring company had to play in the event that happened between the players on the field. The five day test match had to compete with its new born sibling One day match, now over shadowed by the latest new born T20, that reels us back to our own gully cricket that we played during school and college days, competing with friends of different classes, different neighbourhoods, different local cricket clubs. The tea break and drinks got rechristened as strategic time out. Over the years, new players changed and rewrote the copy book with new strokes, some of them christened as reverse sweep; and some lifted above the wicket keeper or swept from off side to third man waiting to be christened. The ball changed its colour, the men in white adorned varied colours and designer clothing; the conventional bat too is on its way to the museums with newer inventions like the long handled bat making inroads. Back to the changing face of cricket, readers will recall how the men in whites battled all weathers for 5 days with a rest day. Matches were held occasionally and people would rush for the love of game, for the love of watching speeding bowlers being smashed to the fence by swash buckling batsmen. The copy book style strokes of square cuts, square drives, and copy book field setting as commentators would put it in their sometimes burly and sometimes not so burly racing voice, “mid off, mid on, long on, forward short leg, deep mid wicket, third man, slips and so on and so forth”. Slips will take your memory to The telly that has also gone through a transition by itself, started off dubbed as the idiot box of those days, has now become the devoted child of today’s senior citizens, who in many of the known cases, have been long isolated by their noble sons and daughters; but their ubiquitous inseparable companion the devoted telly remains with them to give them company, and world information. It brings home to them the movies that, with their fixed pension in the ever rising inflating world doesn’t permit them the luxury of seeing them in expensive multiplexes, not to forget the rushing crowds, commuting woes, and dark aisles that they cant battle through with sore knees and dimmed vision. It brings to them lessons of life through dedicated spiritual channels, lessons of life that they really don’t have much use for in their sunset years, lessons of life that they have endured and experienced themselves, yet ardently listen, being left with barely much choice. Readers will recall the net practice sessions during the evenings and weekends, sitting with the Bangalore heroes GRV, BSC, EASP, in the not so aesthetically designed steps of YMCA/ Central College cricket grounds, like a commoner, one among us ordinary human being. For matches held within India, we had our own His Masters Voice of Medium Wave All India Radio, but for those outside India, we would be up at all unearthly hours and amid the proverbial burning of the midnight oil, we would tune in on Short Wave and this would be best savoured as a part of combined studies in the house of – not the guy with best brains but the house of the guy with the best radio system.
give the asked information
kindly provide answer for what has been asked but some more presised and my question is who gava the shape of bats used today and in what year this much only
kindly provide answer for what has been asked but some more presised and my question is who gava the shape of bats used today and in what year this much only
very well described how the gentleman game has changed into commercial money spinning activity
Great going Prakash.You pulled me back to those magical times of yore when we battled with our prinici to let us of to watch India-WI test match. Also brought me reminesence of how we would gather around GR's house to have a glimpse of our Ranji heroes, before they left for Ranji matches by auto.
Attaboy! FM..Good one..Kudos to the Literary reminiscence..took me back to the bhasyam circle grounds
very well put.... in a nut shell
Money in any form or fashion corrupts & commercialization of cricket the IPL way is one more nail in the coffin of this noble sport to bite the dust...Kudos to the author.
Mr.Prakash,
that's an excellent piece of writing. Congrat!
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