Tags:
Journalism of Courage
Yes,yes,we know: the IPL is meant to be tamasha. The best sort,though: engaging,light and frothy with larger-than-life characters. Nobody expects it to be memorable all the time,right? They play every day,after all. Except,
apparently,Indias cricket board,its approved commentators,and its approved mediamen. Weve been given breathlessness,sheer hyperbolic wall-to-wall gushing. Were shown endless corporate tie-ins,reminders every few seconds that this isnt to be sport so much as a money-making carnival. And were required to believe that the IPLs every moment is epochal for the sport,and indeed for Indian nationhood itself.
The stars of the IPL,theyd have us believe,are the strutting team owners and the IPLs owner himself,Lalit Modi. Certainly,Modi or,as Rajasthan Royals star Shilpa Shetty recently called him,the brainchild behind the IPL is signing autographs like hes the main attraction. Well-trained cameras follow him adoringly across the stadium,as he waves magisterially to the people his minions have summoned to gawk at the wonders of his IPL. You would be forgiven for thinking that you were watching one of Kim Jong-Ils giant propaganda games from North Korea; since we arent allowed to see the relatively thin crowds,the resemblance is even more marked. And,in all this,the cricketers that actually prop up the system are forgotten it doesnt give a damn for them. Dont think of praising the BCCIs half-hearted,delayed rethink about players tainted by association with the rebel Indian Cricket League. That deserves fresh condemnation:
imposing a further one-year exile on these men,many of them unpaid by their employers,is plain vindictive. In international sports,a year might even be a fifth of your earning career. But thats something grown-ups care about,not brainchildren.
