Between sticks and clones

There are several reasons for this. One, and the most obvious, is the bitter and destructive traditional rivalry between regions, something that thankfully doesn’t plague our cricket any more. There is the Punjab lobby, and then there’s everyone else. Punjab has traditionally supplied the stars; for the past few years, and especially now, they have been upstaged by the man from Pune. And that’s the second reason: Dhanraj is Mr Indian Hockey, the rest mere accessories to his sublime skills. Off the field, his rivals have to grin and bear his showboating and tantrums; on the field, as any schoolboy will tell you, putting Dhanraj in his place is easily done.

With a coach unwilling or unable to recognise that or act on it, and a federation presumably in sync too, it leaves one player out in the cold. In strictly technical terms, Indian hockey seems to have shot itself in the foot. No Pillay, no potency is the unwitting message emanating from Madrid. There is — would you believe it? — even a suggestion that his adversaries of yesterday want him back.

They should seriously re-think. This sounds like heresy, but weigh the facts in the balance. An ageing warrior, still capable of his moments but his powers waning by the day; and unwanted, for various reasons, by his teammates. It’s happening right in front of us in the Indian cricket team, too: Nayan Mongia is among the best current wicketkeepers, Ajay Jadeja worth a try. Yet they don’t have a chance of making the team because they aren’t wanted. It’s happening with Roy Keane, English football’s most complex, controversial and compelling footballer; he walked out of the Irish national team, of which he was an iconic captain, days before the 2002 World Cup. Now he wants in, and his teammates, for all his unique skills, are keeping the door shut.

Sporting history is littered with the careers of geniuses who couldn’t be reined in. Football, a sport that calls on base passions, has more than cricket: George Best retired at age 26; Paul Gascoigne, ruined at a younger age; Eric Cantona, who survived till 30 only because of sheer willpower. It needs a very strong coach — which Cantona had, and Best and Gascoigne didn’t — to hone genius, keep it focused, get the best out of it. Cricket, where the role of coach is different, offers us the contemporary example of Lara, who is now beginning to rein himself in, to the benefit of West Indies cricket.

Indian hockey isn’t blessed with visionary coaches, or those with exceptional man-management skills. It doesn’t even think of these as assets worth considering. It is blessed with a genius, but a brooding genius with no one at the helm could be more harmful than a team of above-average talent. Perhaps it’s time to do what the Australians, those peerless masters of cold, ruthless career management, do best: cut the cord. We will repent at some stage, sooner rather than later, and maybe that will make those in charge of our hockey sit up and take notice. Maybe that is when our sporting system will allow for something out of the ordinary.