Self goal on prime time

Hockey today is in an interesting situation; it has returned to the spotlight, once again caught the public eye. But, to the generations that have grown up on Kapil, Tendulkar and Sehwag, hockey is still essentially a mystery. While the exploits of Dhyan Chand reside not so much in the realm of ancient history as mythology, even the relatively recent feats of Aslam Sher Khan, Mohammed Shahid and Zafar Iqbal will ring few bells among Generation X. To capture their mindspace, the trick is to convert ephemeral, fleeting images — a Cologne, an Amstelveen, a Kuala Lumpur — into a lasting impression.

The media is willing, because hockey sells (whether it will continue to be as sexy once the cricket season begins is, however, a moot point); the public demands coverage and gets it. The players are willing, and justifiably so; having lived long in the shadows of cricketers, they want their place in the sun.

The problem is the restricted access. Television coverage of the game is still an ad hoc issue — DD Sports, which covered the Asia Cup, didn’t bother advertising the timing of repeat telecasts, not even for the final — and the Indian team hasn’t played a meaningful match at home in years. Thankfully, both seem to be changing; the IHF has struck a TV deal of sorts with a cable channel. And the star attraction of the much-blighted Afro-Asian Games is the India-Pakistan match on October 27, while India are likely to host a series against Holland next year.

Monday was the perfect opportunity for the media to play its role of facilitator, with Sunday’s heroics very much top of the mind for many of us. Hockey could only have benefited had Dhanraj, Gagan Ajit, the Tirkeys, the urbane Rasquinha been handed over to the reporters. Instead, the IHF had on its hands a PR disaster; in 24 hours, hockey went from hero to zero thanks to five minutes of stupidity. Gill and his aides may dismiss the scene as trivial or a creation of the media, but the fact is that by Tuesday it was the talking point of the sports world.

To take the game to that higher level, Gill needs to take the IHF out of its sarkari mentality. You can’t take on cricket, a multi-crore industry and a team full of stars, with the feudal assumption that you alone know what is best for the game. The official reason for the gag order was that players were being affected by constant media intrusions. It was coincidental that the directive came as the media started asking uncomfortable questions. Why was the hockey camp held in Lucknow’s summer heat? What’s the full sponsorship deal with Sahara? Who is Deedar Singh and why is he repeatedly finding a place in the side?

To cut off media access as a response to this is typical ostrich-like Indian bureaucratese, and is unlikely to succeed in today’s world. The days when half the Indian team could be sacked without any explanation days after winning the Asiad gold are over; the media, like it or not, is everywhere and will raise difficult questions.

Indian sport is changing. Cricket is becoming more open, more professional; there are signs of change in football, though the sport’s administration in India still bears strong feudal signs. The state government in Andhra Pradesh is setting standards for everyone else in how to run an open, professional, media-friendly sports enterprise. As the national game, that’s the very least that hockey deserves.