Samir Chopra
Cricket on the high seas with Sobers and Co
A nautical encounter with the Caribbean heroes of the 1960-61 tied Test
Samir Chopra
05-Aug-2015
In the summer of 1960, my father, then a fighter pilot in the Indian Air Force with five years of service under his belt, took extended leave to go on a driving tour of Europe. Three of his air force mates joined him on an ocean liner to Europe - how quaint, sailing for weeks on a ship. On landing in Italy, they rented a tiny Renault and took off. There was art aplenty to gawk at, great architecture, good food and drink, the pleasures of being on the road. Four young men on an extended summer vacation could not have asked for more. They were keen sports fans too, so they attended the Rome Olympics and witnessed the genius of Cassius Clay and Dawn Fraser (sadly, they couldn't get tickets to go see Wilma Rudolph).
Their vacation over, my father and his friends headed back to India on the same ship that had brought them over, the P&O Company's RMS Strathaird, notable in cricketing history as the ocean liner that brought Don Bradman's 1948 Australians to England. After the excitement of Europe, as they sailed through the Suez Canal on the way to Bombay, the three of them (one had managed to wangle an Air India flight back home) were only looking forward to a long, tedious journey by sea.
But it was not to be. The air force pilots met West Indian cricketers on board. More specifically, West Indies cricketers who had just completed county and league commitments in England and were on their way to Australia for a Test series against Richie Benaud's team: Frank Worrell, the West Indies captain, Conrad Hunte, Garry Sobers, and Wesley Hall. The rest of the team was journeying separately and would join the quartet in Australia.
Full postA Hayden moment
At times the TV does no justice to stunning pieces of work on the cricket field. At times you need to have played the game yourself - however casually - to appreciate these gems
Samir Chopra
04-Jul-2015
Close to a dozen years ago, I stood close to a boundary fence at the Sydney Cricket Ground, watching the fourth day's play of the fourth and final Test of the series between India and Australia. India, with Rahul Dravid and Sachin Tendulkar at the crease, after taking a 231-run lead in the first innings, were engaged in the business of putting some quick runs on the board before declaring and asking Australia to have a crack at an implausible target.
As the pair of Indian batsmen hurtled toward the eventual innings score of 211 for 2 declared, one of them square drove to deep point. That position, the one where I happened to be standing and chatting with other fans, was, for some reason, not covered by a fielder. But third man was within running distance. And so third man, in this case Matthew Hayden, intervened. As we watched in some amazement, the big man came sprinting over and in a quick movement reached down on the run, picked up the ball, swivelled and threw the ball back, hard and flat into the wicketkeeper's gloves.
We, the astonished spectators, spontaneously sucked in our collective breaths and then burst into applause. Hayden might have acknowledged us with a doffed cap, or perhaps, more likely, perceiving his efforts as just another day at the office, jogged back nonchalantly to his uncustomary fielding position.
Full postThe theatre of the DRS
The relief at the howler overturned; the vindication of the accurate umpire - the dramas of the review system are many, and many of them are entertaining
Samir Chopra
19-May-2015
The cricket field is a stage for theatre, its players actors in dramas of their own - and others' - making. That much fans can agree on. They can agree, too, that as the game changes, the nature of the drama enacted in front of our eyes does too.
When cameras were introduced to aid in the adjudication of line decisions, a new theatricality emerged: the umpire's call for a replay, the anxious turn to the replay screen, the red or green light signalling disaster or triumph, the roars and groans that greeted that final missive. (Incidentally, shouldn't it have been green for "go" and red for "stay"? I remain mystified by the colour coding.) These reactions, these stagings, are now part of our understanding of the modern game.
And now, with the introduction of the DRS, we have new dramas afoot. I want to concentrate here on the reactions of a few of the central players - the batsmen and the umpires - to the now modified staging of that most dreaded of cricketing moments, the fielding side's appeal and the umpire's decision. And in particular on two pairs of related, visible responses: the vindicated batsman and umpire, and the mortified batsman and umpire.
Full postTurn down the telly, turn up the radio
There was a time when cricket fans felt TV commentary wasn't descriptive enough. Now its verbosity makes us turn back to the radio
Samir Chopra
17-Apr-2015
In September 2000, a couple of months after I had moved to Sydney, I travelled to Melbourne, ostensibly for travelling to an academic conference, but I had other motivations for making that trip: I had friends in the city with whom I looked forward to following that year's AFL Grand Final - to be played between Essendon and Melbourne. (My friends were Essendon fans and were understandably delighted about their team's presence in the final.)
On the day of the Grand Final, we gathered to watch the telecast of the game at a friend's place. As we sat down in front of the TV, our host turned down the volume, walked over to his radio and began fiddling with it. "Screw the television. Roy and HG are doing a simulcast commentary, that'll be way more fun than the crap they'll have on the telly," he said.
And it was. That irrepressible comedic pair, whom I would soon see* in action during the Sydney Olympics on a nightly basis, engaging - on their show, The Dream - in one piss-take after the other on the day's sporting action, was back at it again, the pompous, cliché-ridden television commentary replaced by their irreverence. On the television screen it was marks, screamers, brawls, goals, behinds; on the radio, it was Roy and HG's distinctive, hilarious lensing of the same action.
Full postWhen being an India fan doesn't mean being filled with despair
Three painful partnerships, but only one - in a World Cup final - has a happy ending
Samir Chopra
19-Mar-2015
On August 3, 1997, late at night, I settled down, as I had done for the previous two nights, with my laptop connected to a dial-up modem, and began monitoring the ball-by-ball text commentary that the diligent residents of the Internet Relay Chat's cricket channel provided. The first Test of the India-Sri Lanka Test series was underway and I was looking forward to how the hosts would respond to India's mammoth 537. The Sri Lankans resumed at 39 for 1, with Sanath Jayasuriya and Roshan Mahanama at the crease. Two hours later, at lunchtime, I packed up. No wickets had fallen, and my resolve to stay awake had faltered. The next morning, I awoke to find the score was 322 for 1. A day later, on waking and going through the same ritual, I found the score had reached 587 for 1. The second wicket would not fall till 615.
Flash forward 17 years. At Trent Bridge, in response to India's first-innings score of 457, England sputtered in their reply, reaching 298 for 9. A healthy first-innings lead for India beckoned. When the smoke cleared, it was England who had a lead of 39 runs, thanks to a world-record partnership for the tenth wicket between Joe Root and Jimmy Anderson.
As these rather depressing numbers indicate, being a fan of the Indian team entails developing a thick skin in dealing with the many, many partnerships that have laid waste many of your cricketing dreams over the years. Still, in detailing these two world-record stands situated at opposed ends of the batting order, I have not forgotten that the most painful partnership of all was one that had a happy ending. And it came in one-day international cricket, not the five-day variety.
Full postThrow open the gates to the Associates
Keeping them in the World Cup will inspire their countrymen to dream bigger and also prevent the game from being monopolised by a small club
Samir Chopra
27-Feb-2015
There was a time when I did not want to invite the Associate members of the ICC to the World Cup. Who were these folks? Why were they taking up precious time and space? Why couldn't we just have the best playing all the time, everywhere? Surely this current, meritocratic way was the way to go - only the best, only the qualified, only the good. No reservations for the weak, no pampering of the incompetent. If you're good enough, you play; if not, you don't. If these folks aren't good, well, that's their fault. They should just pull themselves up by the bootstraps like all the successful people I know. They should stop asking for handouts, for invites to parties where they don't belong.
And on and on. My head was full of the usual bovine excrement that continues to animate many contemporary political and economic debates. The observant reader will not have failed to notice the structural similarity of the claims I used to faithfully parrot to those made in disputes over and about many issues today - ranging from affirmative action to state regulation of the economy, and others.
Too many of the folks who make arguments like these are in the position of those worthies who are born at third base and think they hit a triple to get there. But no one gets by or along without a helping hand. We just conveniently forget that we were helped by one. (I think many thoughts like these as I raise my two-year-old daughter.) And if you think a meritocracy exists in cricket, especially in qualifying for the World Cup, then I've got a bridge I'd like to sell you.
Full postIndia vs Pakistan, but it's muted this time
The build-up to the World Cup clash seems restrained with fans from both sides not feeling particularly bullish about their team's chances
Samir Chopra
14-Feb-2015
India-Pakistan World Cup games get to the best of us. A Pakistani friend of mine, a very serious man, a professor of computer science, a published poet who writes very polished Urdu, an expert on Islamic history, and an acerbic critic of modern Pakistani politics, recently sent out a tweet with a scoreline reading 72-50 (Pakistan v India in all one-day internationals), and a rough and ready Urdu phrase that wondered if India had had enough. Unable to resist, I wrote back that the relevant numbers were actually 5-0 (India v Pakistan in World Cup games) and 2-1 (the number of World Cups won).
It is often forgotten, in all the teeth-gnashing over the India-Pakistan World Cup final that didn't come to be - the 1987 edition - that India and Pakistan could have met in the final of the 1983 World Cup too. But on that occasion, India won their semi-final (and, ahem, the final too), while Pakistan lost in the second semi-final to West Indies. (Curiously enough, Pakistan made almost exactly the same number of runs that India would make in the final, reaching 184 for 8, a score West Indies easily chased down, losing only two wickets in the process.)
India and Pakistan finally met in the World Cup for the first time in 1992, and since then, they have met four more times. And, of course, as a rather cheeky Star Sports advertisement making the rounds reminds us, India have won all those games. Any serious fan of Indian cricket will be able to tell you where and how he watched those games, and how his feelings swung from one extreme to the other as the games progressed.
Full postOnce upon a Bedi welcome
Bishan Bedi welcoming the visiting Pakistanis at the airport in 1979 is an image for the ages
Samir Chopra
18-Jan-2015
One of many claims made for the IPL is that it has made possible - like other cricket leagues in the past which brought together players from different nations to play on the same teams - a species of friendship between cricketers that would not otherwise be possible in this nation-dominated sport of ours. This is not a radical claim to make these days: many professional cricketers find that being on the same roster as a former foe offers the possibility for the growth of a relationship of the sort that is not possible when engaged in on-field competition for rival teams. (It helps that evidence of such friendships can be easily Instagrammed.)
And cricket fans often find something rather endearing about the sight of international rivals wearing the same team's jersey or engaging in non-edgy interaction off the field. For a few moments, the bitter, contentious rivalries that engage us so are put aside and we are allowed to wallow in the warm glow of the illusion that our heroes and villains have put aside their personal and sporting differences. (The soccer fans who swoon over photographs of Messi and Neymar goofing off in the Barcelona dressing room know what I'm talking about, I hope.)
For me, one of the earliest and most vivid occurrences of this sensation came on viewing a photograph that I still consider a classic, despite the fact that it does not feature cricketers in action.
Full postMemo to Virat Kohli
India's new captain needs to realise talking is sweet but winning sweeter
Samir Chopra
04-Jan-2015
Down under, Virat Kohli is certainly talking the talk. And given that he has scored three centuries in the current Test series, one is tempted, as I certainly was a couple of days ago, to say that he is walking the walk too.
But that was too hasty a judgement, made entirely on the basis of having cast only a superficial glance at the scoreboard at the end of the third day of the third Test, where India were 462 for 8 in response to Australia's 530. India had made a fight of it. That's all that seemed to matter.
A closer look at the scoreboard was more disquieting. Kohli and Ajinkya Rahane had put on 262 runs in a little under 58 overs, taking India to 409 for 3. With 20 overs to go on the third day, India were 121 runs behind with seven wickets in hand. By close of play India had subsided to 462 for 8. Kohli was out to Mitchell Johnson, after having taunted and thrashed him all day. Rather than carrying on the next day, and taking India closer to Australia's score, Kohli was gone. India's tail was still to come. It came and went, predictably enough making few runs, eating up little time. So did India's bowling, which once again let Australia set India an awkward target on the last day.
Full postGrieving for a stranger
Not having known Phillip Hughes does not make the pain of losing him hurt less
Samir Chopra
05-Dec-2014
Every day, as I read the news and check my social media pages, I see reports of the deaths of strangers: the victims of the violence of man and nature. Some die in storms, others in floods; some are shot by the police, others blown up by bombs; some are killed by individuals, some by the state; some die in unfortunate accidents. Some are young, some old. These occurrences evoke in me varying reactions. Sometimes they infuriate and enrage me enough for me to take action like marching in a protest or performing acts of civil disobedience and spending the day in jail. Sometimes I pass over the numbers in blasé silence, made numb by distance and unfamiliarity. Sometimes I wish I could feel more, so that I could reassure myself of my humanity; sometimes, when I see the toll such concern exacts on body and mind, I wish I could feel less.
Sometimes I am moved, uncomfortably and painfully, to tears. I feel no compulsion to "man up", to be a "big boy".
I never met Phillip Hughes. I never shook his hand, never shared a beer with him, never talked to him. I only saw him on television, never live at a ground. I've only seen images of him: hitting boundaries, grinning and raising his bat, struggling with technical deficiencies in his batting, battling against spin.
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