Opinion Best of Both Sides | In world cricket, once India and Pakistan stood together — whatever the politics of the day
The handshake row at the Asia Cup signalled that the political bitterness had spilt over onto the field. And now, the continuing sordidness over the T20 World Cup — the announcement that the Pakistan team won’t play India is the latest — bodes ill for the health of the game itself
Groups threatening to disrupt cricket matches or dig up fields in India date back to at least two decades. A firm hand from administrators, including those who ran cricket, would keep such mischief-makers at bay India’s Prudential Cup win in 1983 did not just give cricket a new World Champion. It also heralded a change in the control of the game’s levers of power. Although the West Indies were dominant on the field of play, it was England and Australia who held the reins in global cricket administration. Players from the Caribbean, India and Pakistan had shown that they did not always need to bat, bowl and field in the White Man’s ways, but global cricket administration was still waiting for its decolonisation moment.
It was then that the BCCI and the Pakistani Board came together to challenge historical privilege and bring the World Cup to the Subcontinent in 1987. The Indian Board was headed by a politician, N K P Salve; his Pakistani counterpart, Nur Khan, was an Air Marshal. But the cooperation between the two neighbours was a refreshing counterpoint to the political hostility. That cricket today is mass entertainment owes much to the efforts of administrators who found common purpose in unshackling the game from its colonial moorings, even when their countries were on the brink of armed confrontation.
Recounting this almost forgotten chapter today might seem like nostalgia, when the game is no longer a diplomatic tool to bridge differences. The handshake row at the Asia Cup signalled that the political bitterness had spilt over onto the field. And now, the continuing sordidness over the T20 World Cup — the announcement that the Pakistan team won’t play India is the latest — bodes ill for the health of the game itself.
Hypernationalism was always a leitmotif of India-Pakistan contests. In the 1996 World Cup, co-hosted by India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka, when the crowd at the Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bangalore jeered Javed Miandad after the Pakistani great had played his last innings, they seemed to be enacting what Umberto Eco had said in his critique of spectator sport. For Eco, what happens in the field of play was only nominally a contest between players. It was rather a competition between supporters of the two teams and bore all the hallmarks of the relations between the societies and polities they represent.
But India-Pakistan cricket often gave evidence that Eco’s analysis was that of a cultural critic who only saw sport’s dark side. Barely three years after the appalling send-off to Miandad, spectators in Chennai gave a standing ovation to the Pakistani team after it had defied a monumental Sachin Tendulkar innings to earn a famous victory. Even today, the internet is replete with heartwarming stories of friendship between the players of two countries, some dating to two or three years ago.
Rivalry on the field could exist along with diplomatic tensions, and it was not always fused with state rhetoric. When fans saw players showing mutual respect, tying shoe laces and even exchanging jokes during a tense phase of play, they could see cricket for what it was — just a game. That was when India and Pakistan played more often. In the last 15 years, encounters have largely been confined to ICC tournaments. On TV, matches are often framed in militaristic language —“revenge,” even “war” or “battles”. And if what happened at the Asia Cup is any indication, there is now a generation of players who embody the political tensions between India and Pakistan.
N K P Salve, Nur Khan and their successors leveraged the power of TV audiences and revenues in the Subcontinent to dismantle cricket’s traditional power structure. But television has today turned broader tensions between India and Pakistan into a spectacle, akin to a sporting contest. News channels amplify tension and orchestrate debates in ways that play to the emotions of audiences. In his magisterial history of the 20th century, The Age of Extremes, historian Eric Hobsbawm wrote of the times when war was something that was fought between the armed forces of nations or enemy blocs. Today, however, geopolitical conflicts, particularly in the Subcontinent, have assumed a completely different character. Navigating geopolitical anxieties is not merely a matter between government, political parties and experts; they have infiltrated everyday social life to a point where many common Indians see the common Pakistani as an enemy. After its recent turmoil, Bangladesh too has become embroiled in this ecosystem.
Groups threatening to disrupt cricket matches or dig up fields in India date back to at least two decades. A firm hand from administrators, including those who ran cricket, would keep such mischief-makers at bay. But such threats are no longer today the stock-in-trade of fringe groups. The uproar — from leaders across the political system, social media trolls, and TV commentators — that led to the BCCI virtually forcing KKR to annul its decision to select Bangladeshi player Mustafizur Rahman is a case in point. Unlike in Salve and Nur Khan’s time, the cricket boards too have become participants in narratives that frame players as adversaries, not rivals on the field. Today, decisions on cricket involving India, Pakistan, and increasingly Bangladesh aren’t just cricket. The sport deserves better.
The writer is senior associate editor, The Indian Express. kaushik.dasgupta@expressindia.com
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