Not A Jingoistic

I have to make a few things clear here otherwise I’d branded a narrow-minded patriot blinded by jingoistic fervor, which I am not.
Born an Indian, I have always supported the Indian cricketers, even in those days when they hardly won a match. Even when they were not millionaires or super models.
I grew up supporting them in the years before globalization and in those years when communication meant weak radio waves and a grainy Doordarshan.
We—my cousins, friends and myself—did not love them because they looked debonair and dashing, but they were fellow countrymen.
But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t like any other team. England was my favourite, and I adored Ian Botham and David Gower. There was something special about the Poms—a blue-blooded charm. I read up so much about the philosophical Mike Brearley and his legendary captaincy, about Gower’s genius and gullibility, about Botham’s heroics and friendship with Viv Richards, about the South African roots of Allan Lamb, and all those swing bowlers who came and went away like the English showers.
Then the West Indians. Who wouldn’t love their brand of passionate Calypso cricket? I loved all of them, and read up the classic “Beyond A Boundary” by Trinidadian CLR James. We grew up mugging up details about all those wonderful cricketers.
Then the Aussies. You can either love them or hate them, but cannot ignore them. Before they began their victorious journey under Allan Border in mid-80s, there was phase when they were at the nadir. Retirement of a few key players led to the one of the worst phases in Australian cricket history. Captain Kim Hughes left a press conference in tears. But then under Border they rebuilt the team and how!
My all-time favourite Aussie is Mark Waugh. Before I got into sports journalism, I once ran after Mark at the Sharjah stadium just to meet him. I spotted him on the ground on the eve of a match, and I went up to him and expressed my admiration. He smiled and shook my hands. How many times I relived that moment. After some years when he came back to Dubai to conduct a Mark Waugh Cricket Clinic, I was with the journos, talking to him across a table.
South Africans…well, they have a special place in my heart. Isolated from international sports for years, the South Africans are not behind anyone in terms of talent and technology. They brought in not only a ferocious brand of cricket but coaching methods using technology. The combination of Hansie Cronje and Bob Woolmer was proving to be a nemesis to all other teams.
I met Woolmer a few times in Dubai while he was conducting crash clinics at Insportz. I met him and did an hour-long interview a couple of months before he left for West Indies with Pakistan team for the World Cup. He spoke at length and seemed to have enjoyed the discussion. I was not writing down the points, but recorded the entire conversation on a micro-cassette recorder. That was one of my biggest blunders in my career. After a few days, I misplaced the tiny cassette and couldn’t write the story. Woolmer had asked me to show him the story next time he came to the city, and I promised him. But he never came, and I haven’t got the cassette yet.
A few words about Cronje. What a man! Not only was he a professional, competitive cricketer but a man of some standing. Yes, he had taken money from bookies, but he had the spleen or the conviction or the prick of conscience to confess it in public. It was not easy for a man of his stature and fan following. He was looked upon as the symbol of future in South Africa. I admired him more when he read out his confession. Mistakes we all make in life, but to stand up and admit it takes courage and conviction.
I still love the South Africans, and badly want them to win the World Cup, because they deserve it.
Having lived in the UAE for over a decade and having seen the blind bias against the Indians everywhere, I too had picked up a prejudice against the Pakistanis. But I have my individual favourties: Wasim, Waqar, Inzy, Aamir Sohail, etc.
I had a very brief friendship with Aamir Sohail. We got talking at the Sharjah stadium and used to mail each other for some time till I got a screen-saver forward from him. I wondered why he sent me a screen saver. I for a moment thought perhaps it could be some of his shots. And I clicked to open it, and my laptop never came to life after that!
It was not his fault. He didn’t send it. The virus that had crept into his computer had sent it to all addresses in his list!
I may still want to see the Indians win, but that doesn’t mean that I support all of their fancies and superstardom. I firmly believe that the BCCI should not be allowed to flex its monetary muscles.
Let cricket, not the buck, bring respect.