Blame India

The Indianisation of cricket has led to predictability. India’s World Cup promises to be the dullest ever.

Like any Pakistani with green blood coursing through his veins, I am preparing to put my life on pause for the next six weeks. The World Cup is starting, which means I have suddenly activated my dormant hyper-nationalist gene.

Were it not for patriotic pride, though, I might just give this World Cup a miss. For one, the format seems to have been engineered to prevent a repeat of the 2007 iteration, when an early loss to Bangladesh swiftly ended India’s participation. This time around, in an obvious attempt to make sure India gets at least six games, it’s going to take a month to whittle down 14 teams to eight quarter-finalists. We’ll have to suffer through over 40 pointless games that will amount to little more than throat-clearing, with the only significant game being the one between the West Indies and Bangladesh, to determine the identity of the eighth quarter-finalist. Unlike football’s World Cup, where every game is fraught with significance, the only matches the non-partisan fan needs to watch will take place in the last week of the tournament.

That India is working to protect its interests to the detriment of the game is not a surprise. Ever since India took over from England as the commercial custodians of the game, dedicated purists have been shunted to the back of the cricket bus. They started by cluttering the cricketing calendar with pointless One-Day International (ODI) series that stretched on and on, while the five-Test series became a relic that only the English are trying to preserve. One ODI series bled into the other, leading to a rise in disposable cricket and a corresponding decline in Test series that will forever live on in memory.

The crime was further compounded with the creation of the Indian Premier League (IPL). What even ODIs couldn’t do, this crass imitation of cricket was able to achieve: Ensure a new generation of Test cricketers will not have techniques worthy of the name. As distressing as it was to see the likes of Damien Martyn and VVS Laxman, two of the most stylish cricketers around, flail around in this bastardised version of cricket, what’s far more tragic is that today’s cricketers know that the only way to get rich is to plant your front foot outside the crease and hit without blinking. Forget day-long vigils and brave rearguard actions; soon even Test cricket will not have a single player who can craft an innings.

The Indian/IPL effect on bowling has been similarly catastrophic. Medium-pace bowlers, who can contain the flow of runs, and off-spinners who can hold up an end, are being preferred to pacers and leg-spinners. Consider this: The only out-and-out quick bowler under the age of 30 is Dale Steyn of South Africa. Just over a decade ago, it was de rigueur for most teams to have at least two fast bowlers.

The Indianisation of cricket has led to predictability. For sheer boredom, it is hard to beat the middle overs of an ODI, as a team looks to consolidate by taking a risk-free single off every ball without losing a wicket. Even World Cups are no longer as exciting as they used to be. Played on dry, dusty pitches that will invariably lead to 300 plus totals being chased down with ease, India’s World Cup (and despite Sri Lanka and Bangladesh hosting, make no mistake that this is India’s World Cup) promises to be the dullest ever.

One caveat, though. If Pakistan goes on to win, I reserve the right to eat my words. It will be the tastiest meal I’ve ever had.

Published in The Express Tribune, February 19^th, 2011.