
Cricket is caught in a curious paradox: the spectators who take the game far too seriously, the administrators who don8217;t think about it enough. What happened in Rajkot on Tuesday 8212; and in Jamshedpur and Nagpur last week 8212;is disgraceful but not entirely surprising.
We have given cricket its iconic status: it is what defines our moods, our behaviour, our way of life. It8217;s after all played all 12 months whether at home or abroad. The game is also the latest to benefit from the globalisation of India: over the past two decades, sparked by the 1983 world cup win and helped by the TV boom, it has spread itself into almost every conceivable corner of this country. That, though, is where the rub lies.
Today8217;s incidents will raise the old argument that this happens only in small-town India not in the big cities. But that misses the point. Sure, you can blame it on the spectator who fails to grasp the beauty and subtlety of a sporting tradition.
But that8217;s not where the problem lies: it lies, instead, with the game8217;s administrators who are reaping the dividends of the game8217;s globalisation without paying back the dues. The current Indian team stars Harbhajan Singh, Mohammed Kaif, Virender Sehwag, Zaheer Khan: all products from outside the established cricketing centres.
What the BCCI has given back, instead, is rickety stadiums packed to the gills with scant attention to safety and comfort. The BCCI8217;s coffers have swelled as a result of the game8217;s global expansion. Yet it has failed in one of its most basic responsibilities: staging cricket matches.
It requires more than securing TV and advertising contracts, it needs stadiums that have facilities to keep 30,000-odd spectators comfortable and safe for the ten hours or so they spend there. That means adequate drinking water, toilets, safe and affordable food, transport connections, fire-safety mechanisms. How can you expect thousands to keep cool for the better part of a day when they spend it in a cess-pit? Passions spread quickly among spectators sitting cheek-by-jowl. It gets worse when every official agency is so compromised: the police, the cricket associations, the civic authorities, everyone joins hands to overlook basic rules. Tighten security in order to scare off would-be troublemakers. Sporting violence is not an exclusive Indian phenomenon; British football was plagued by stadium skirmishes during the 1970s and 80s. It was controlled when the authorities decided to make football a family game. That meant making stadiums all-seaters, cutting down on capacity, restricting smoking and drinking; in short, making football a game the whole family could watch. The initial loss in advertising and retailing revenue has been compensated by the rise in attendances. If we truly care about cricket we should do the same.