Saving the Test, Saving a Lost Art
11-Apr-2009
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Clichés, surprisingly, best represent the spirit of a sport. A mercurial striker, an elegant touch artist or an inventive playmaker, these words are enough for you to conjure up images – a dribbling centre-forward sidestepping a defender or two with his dazzling stickwork; an elegant running single-fisted backhand down the line; or a midfield dynamo controlling a game of football.
Pars pro toto?
Yes, certain words do capture the essence of the whole game. Clichés, therefore, serve a greater purpose than being the lazy reporter’s last resort. These and other thoughts came back to me as I read the reportage of Gautam Gambhir’s match saving innings at Napier. Terms like “a ten-hour vigil at the crease”, “ground the bowling down” and “played time to save the game” dotted the articles. Vigil? Grind down? Save the game? I can’t visualize a single other sport, than Test cricket, that might inspire such words. But then in no other sport is not losing sometimes more important than winning.
Long occupation of crease by a batsman has fascinated me since the time I heard Gavaskar wearing down an English attack comprising Botham, Dilley, Lever and Underwood for over 6 sessions at Bangalore in the early 80s. Since then there have been many long innings that have remain etched in memory, notably, the match saving efforts by Greatbatch on a bouncy Perth test in the late 80s and the unforgettable Atherton fourth inning knock at Johannesburg. Not surprisingly though, as a child, these knocks defined boredom to me. Stonewalling isn’t attractive on television or on radio. Cricket was a simple game of whacking the leather ball with the willow. Why make it so difficult?
As time went by and the web of life turned more complex, I started appreciating Test Match cricket more than ever. It wasn’t merely hitting the ball with the bat. It required more character defining skills than any other sport. And the greatest display of character in Test Match was in batting to save the match. So, what skills do you need to play a long, back-to-the-wall innings? Well, there are the obvious qualities of patience, mental strength and endurance. But like most things associated with Test Match cricket there are larger lessons of life at play here which almost seem anachronistic in this day and age.
The most important among them is the notion of deferred gratification. As opposed to instant gratification. Every single temptation of instant glory is snubbed. The half-volleys are patted respectfully for a single. The bouncers are respectfully ducked with nary a desire for pull or hook. Anything outside the off is seen safely into the keeper’s gloves. All gratification postponed with a wry smile. Austerity triumphing over extravagance. This is not playing safe. Contrary to popular belief, this is actually a high risk strategy. There is no guarantee that eschewing these temptations will necessarily lead you to your desired end. A single unplayable ball could bring all your efforts to naught with very little to show for. It’s easier to clutch at moments of instant gratification – that pull behind square or that airy drive through extra cover. But as successful long innings have proven over time, the true mark of quality batting is to put the long-term over the short – a lesson that many derivatives traders and merchant bankers would have done well to remember. We might not have found ourselves in the hole that we are in today.
The other defining feature of these innings is humility. Past records of success do not count. No bowler, however ordinary, is treated with disdain. There isn’t any desire to overreach one’s ability. After a while, there are no external battles. It’s the batsman battling his own ego every moment of the game. It’s his skills against the clock.
As I watched Gautam Gambhir bring India to safety, I couldn’t but marvel at how he exemplified these two qualities. An aggressive batsman in the shorter formats of the game, he deferred gratification every step of his way to his century. There was no desire for flourish or instant glory. There was no swagger as each carefully constructed milestone was reached. You almost had to remind yourself that this was the same batsman who over the last six months had elbowed a bowler while running down the pitch since he couldn’t take his banter. Here was he turning and walking away towards square leg when the bowler extended his follow through. Gambhir had indeed turned gambhir. If this is what Youngistan is turning out to be, I am glad it’s here.
(If practising alone as a child with a stump and a golf ball was the only criterion, Subrat was the next Bradman in making. This childhood experience wasn't sufficient when he graduated to the more serious league. The ball, unerringly, continued to find his stumps which was unfortunate when you consider he opened the innings for his team. These days he hones his footwork in front of the mirror and writes occasionally about the game. He lives in Bangalore.)