RANDOM THOUGHTS.
Channa Gunasekara
I have been requested to write a few lines for this
Souvenir. I guess it has to be something related to cricket. I ponder !
Well, what shall I say ? There is much.
First, there is a surfeit of international cricket being
played with, I believe, the resultant lowering of standards all round and a
plethora of mediocrity lending to the loss of spectator interest. To
counteract this was born the synthetic, instant version of the game,
providing shallow entertainment for the less initiated to savour a result
for a result's sake. But, I dare say there is some science in this act of
mad aggression that attempts to satiate the impatient. There sure is
technique and, of course, a certain degree of skill, which meanwhile
thankfully go to fill the till, as it were, - a much needed commodity for
nourishing the game. However, having said all this, I must say that we have
lost the flavour of the original concept.
Taking an
overview of the whole, it is an unpardonable sin that, in the context of
this material world, where silver counts for so much in commercial terms, we
have to pander to this vast mediocrity for our very existence. So much so
that for the caravan to move on we have to compromise by making our idols
perform on flawless, doctored, covered pitches. It is a pity that, in the
absence of rain-touched surfaces, there is no proper yardstick to sift the
not so good player from the one of class.
Anyone with a good eye alone and minimal technique will
survive and, continue to serve us with a diet of gaudy runs unlimited. Yet,
put the same player on a grassy rectangle with a drop of rain (moisture) and
the onlookers will surely open their eyes in sympathy for their erstwhile
champion.
It may also have come about from the fact that the
present day lot is more easily prone to minor illnesses like 'colds' and
strains etc. For, no sooner than a few drops of rain appear on the horizon
than they rush for the comfort of the pavilion and covers are galvanised to
protect the sacred turf. What a pity that an exhibition of skill and class
is denied the paying customer. Twenty or thirty runs under these conditions
are worth going a long way to see than a double hundred on a somnolent
pitch.
The game
is so commercialised today that the romance and appeal of this great
spectacle has somehow been squeezed out. Barring the rare exception (Tendulkar
or Lara), nowhere can we find today the likes of Grace, Gunn, Rhodes, Hendren,
Miller, Constantine and our very own Sathasivam or De Saram. They were not
measured merely in terms of runs or wickets but in terms of style and
character and were the life and soul of the game itself. But what have we
today? A remorseless churning of unattractive runs sans humour or chivalry
touching a chord in sympathy with today's humdrum life, sometimes bordering
on rowdysm and even thuggery. Alas'! This is a product of the times. So I
shouldn't complain. Are we beyond redemption? These are the fears that keep
on popping up ever so often in my mind.
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