The Rise of the Rest

IN THE 1970S IT WAS SOMETIMES SAID THAT CRICKET offered the Maharashtrian middle class an escape from the drudgery of the probationary officer’s job at public sector banks (PSBs)—a coveted perch offering financial security and social standing—by opening the doors to opportunities well beyond the bounds of modest neighbour­hoods in Dadar or Dombivli. The observation was both a compliment and a left-handed aside. The success of the Marathi middle class in securing government employment was a tribute to its work ethic but was also a mark of aborted ambition, a preparedness to live humdrum lives devoid of risk. To be fair, the times were such that personal endeavour and entrepreneurship were daunting pursuits. India was very much in the thrall of officially sanctioned socialist dogma that inhibited flights of imagination. Indeed, wealth and profit were bad words even though a self-serving nexus of politicians and businesses did well for itself. Even after making it as professional cricketers, players were often on the rolls of public-sector firms or corporates that offered a salary and job security. For players depending on sport alone, it was a life lived on trains in-between tour­naments and teams while also chasing contracts with county sides in England.

Talents like Dilip Vengsarkar, Ajit Wadekar, Eknath Solkar, Padmakar Shivalkar and, of course, Sunil Gavaskar showcased Mumbai cricket and there were many more who did not gain a similar fame. In the day, the middle-class pre­mium on education meant players were expected to ‘secure’ employability before considering the uncertainties of professional sport. India’s ace spinners Erapalli Prasanna and S Venkataraghavan were qualified engineers as was K Srikkanth, who came along later, and who also attended the College of Engi­neering in Guindy as did Venkat. The question whether engineering’s loss was cricket’s gain is easily answered. Prasanna, Venkat and Srikkanth would have, almost certainly, made competent engineers. But their achievements on the cricket field inspired generations of schoolboys to turn up at maidans and coaching classes driven by dreams of greatness. Cricket then has almost always been a path to social mobility, allowing Indian club sides in an earlier era to challenge the colonial mo­nopoly on the game. While its growth in India is replete with stories of patronage offered by royals (it was said of the Maharaja of Vizianagaram that he shot more tigers than the runs he scored) and wealthy business houses, players from humble backgrounds found a path to fame and riches. As the game grew and the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) became financially powerful, players who did not make it to the national side found a career and livelihood in the domestic circuit.

As cricket became a national passion, it was not surprising that the interest and influence of politicians increased. Here was an attractive platform, a public profile and, later, money as well. The commercialisation of cricket and BCCI’s rise as a state within a state has been subjected to considerable comment, much of it critical. Every government has ensured BCCI fell within its zone of influence. Soon after the Unit­ed Progressive Alliance (UPA) won an upset victory over the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led National Democratic Alliance (NDA) in 2004, Maratha strongman Sharad Pawar ended Jagmohan Dalmiya’s reign as India’s cricket boss and became BCCI chief. The pendulum swung the other way after 2014. There have been attempts to reduce the hold of politicians and restrict conflicts of interest but these efforts have proved short-lived. There was merit in the Supreme Court’s interventions in the management of cricket in India but the remedies did not work out. In fact, the new rules resulted in a selection committee woefully short of playing experience. In the end, the court agreed BCCI was an autonomous body and could not be micro-managed. As things stand, BCCI and the Indian Premier League (IPL) much bear the stamp of political heavyweights. Court-induced corrections saw the appointment of relative lightweights as BCCI office bearers who proved singularly inadequate and were often enough proxies. As India’s triumph in the T20 World Cup proved, BCCI has been supremely successful in building a competitive structure that taps talent beyond large cities and makes the sport socially inclusive and merit-driven. Its promotion of financial participation of corpo­rates as sponsors and advertisers and the television and digital audi­ences the game commands allows BCCI to provide a high quality of infrastructure and sporting equipment the game needs—costs not easy for individual players or even smaller associations to bear.

The rise to prominence of Yashasvi Jaiswal in IPL was accompa­nied by commentary on his assisting his father sell pani puris and while the account proved incorrect, the player was indeed depen­dent on the generosity of his coach to train. His coach Jwala Singh has said that a young Jaiswal lived in tents near Mumbai’s Azad Maidan during his early days in the city and the hardships paid off. Another Mumbai cricketer, Prithvi Shaw, battled his circum­stances, supported by a single parent father, rising early to catch long train rides to Bandra to play and practise. India’s bowling sensation Jasprit Bumrah lost his father when very young and his mother Daljit worked long hours to make ends meet, according to family friend and journalist Deepal Trivedi. Nadiad is not far from Vadodara but Axar Patel’s career led him much further than the engineering career his family considered fitting for a ‘good’ student. Patel does not hail from an impoverished background but the family house is modest and it was a down-to-earth set of coaches who drilled in the virtues of discipline to ensure his talent flowered as it did first by claiming a spot on the Gujarat team followed by success at IPL auctions. Kuldeep Yadav’s left-arm wrist spin was crucial in India’s campaign in the Caribbean leg of the World Cup and is a gratifying vindication for a player who began in the bylanes of Kanpur hoping to be a fast bowler. Unorthodox wrist spin turned out a better choice, even if a hard one, as Kuldeep has been in and out of the side. His 16 wickets at an economy rate of 8.70 runs in this year’s IPL won him the nod for the World Cup, with coach Rahul Dravid and captain Rohit Sharma looking for spinners capable of operating on slow pitches. Before he became a leading Indian quick, Mohammed Siraj’s future did not look so clear as he grew up not far from the Charminar in Hyderabad. His struggles have been recounted by coach Mahboob Ahmed who said Siraj’s father eked out a living as an auto driver. His early brushes with indiscipline and erratic behaviour may well have ended his prospects but for a coach who believed in him and an inner realisation that life would not keep offering breaks. Cricket was more than a boyish distraction for Ravindra Jadeja who lived in a one-room apartment allotted to his mother while his father found occasional employment. It was everything he wanted to be and the path to pull his family out of a hand-to-mouth exis­tence. His swagger seems natural but is an earned privilege, not one that comes with entitlement. A modest family income meant Rohit Sharma could not afford to switch schools in Mumbai as suggested by coach Dinesh Lad, who then helped with a schol­arship. When he noticed Rohit’s timing and hitting prowess, Vengsarkar became convinced about his ability to play for India. Mohammed Shami hails from Amroha in Uttar Pradesh, not a place known for sporting talent. As luck would have it, he was introduced to a coach in Moradabad who, after seeing a teenaged Shami bowl at the nets, felt he was a prospect for the state squad.

As the saga of IPL recruitments in recent years shows, stories of players from humble backgrounds or locations at a distance from traditional cricketing centres abound. Such players are more than well represented on domestic and franchise teams, some travelling aboard to play in leagues in Australia, the Caribbean and South Africa. Their journeys are truly transnational as talent and opportunity come together to provide avenues that could only have been the stuff of dreams. Jaiswal and Rinku Singh— another remarkable talent whose father worked as a cooking gas delivery agent—didn’t get a chance to showcase their talents in the World Cup, but it won’t be long before they are in the middle at the next ICC tournament. The retirement of Rohit Sharma, Virat Kohli and Ravindra Jadeja from the T20 format means new claimants to greatness are round the corner.

The non-elites, small-city and town players with working-class backgrounds have changed the social composition of the sport yet again, marking the next evolution of a sport once described as the “gentleman’s game” and defined by the haughty, exclusionary rules of clubs like Mumbai’s Cricket Club of India (CCI). The polite tinkle of expensive glassware, the clinking of sterling cutlery and soft-footed liveried attendants have made way for a more earthy flavour, one redolent with the sounds and smells of everyday India. The new generation of cricketers is far from hesitant about stepping into hallowed portals and they are ready to embrace wealth and premium lifestyles but without seeking to camouflage their backgrounds. It was fitting that coach Rahul Dravid reminded the winning squad in the dressing room in Barbados about the sacrifices their families had made for their success. It was a valuable lesson as super stardom and its gilded confines can end up excluding those who believed in a talent much before anyone else did.

Though it stuck roots in England, cricket spread across the globe through the advance of colonialism and it is hardly a surprise that race and politics have never been distant. In many former colonies, cricket became a means to challenge the old order and this did not change after the sun set on the British Empire. The inheritors in the newly freed colonies became the new pashas and were in turn ousted by a less sophisticated lot. The working class or professional cricketers chaffed at the impo­sitions of a class system that made them subservient employees. The legendary Lala Amarnath, who rightly protested the Maha­raja of Vizianagaram’s indolent captaincy on the 1936 tour of Eng­land, was a prime example of the pugnacious Punjabi spirit that could not stand unmeritorious privilege. His uncommon ability and hard work made him a role model for post-Independence cricketers. He would recognise and applaud the ongoing renais­sance of Indian cricket led by players who refused to let social deficits overcome them and beat the odds by grit and perseverance.

After India bounced back from a 36 All Out score in the Adelaide test in Australia during the 2020-21 series, with stand-in skipper Ajinkya Rahane leading the fight back, Australian great Ian Chappell noted that the pipeline of Indian talent was shak­ing the cricketing world. The emergence of Shubman Gill, Siraj, Patel, Shardul Thakur and Rishabh Pant in quick succession with Ishan Kishan and Suryakumar Yadav in the wings, he said, was reminiscent of the talent once commanded by the West Indies. The captaincies of Sourav Ganguly and MS Dhoni were defini­tive steps in India’s progress and both—in contrasting styles— provided rare leadership that backed talent. Kohli’s style was different but India won T20 series across the world, including in SENA (South Africa, England, New Zealand and Australia) countries and Rohit Sharma’s shrewd captaincy delivered an ICC trophy that had been missing from the BCCI shelves since 2011. It might seem like manifest destiny but is more a progression that led to a success that could no longer be denied.

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