Friendly fire

With warm welcomes all round being the theme of the series so far, would both teams be better off with a return to their aggressive ways?

MUMBAI: Cricket matches between India and Pakistan are never just about the cricket. The history of the two nations, both on and off the field, always makes for a little more needle; the troublemakers come to the party by agitating for their lives, while the individuals who see the chance for reconciliation indulge in expansive, explicit gestures of friendship.

The current series began with a new element however, thanks to the recent ‘developments’ in the Indian cricketers’ collective psyche.

As evidenced by the at times ludicrously contrived gestures the Indian players treated their English and Australian counterparts to in their recent matches, the Men in Blue are now trying hard to carry the fight at all times, in every gesture, word and slight phrase of body language.

Pakistan’s visit, therefore, created a situation in which the Indians could be aggressive and yet still argue that Pakistan are receiving the same treatment as any team brave enough to take India on.

Contrastingly, and of more significance, any gestures of friendship between the two, rarities in any contemporary cricket games, would have the effect of showing not just that the two teams are capable of amity, but that they are willing to dispense with their preferred game plan in the pursuit of brotherly love.

This effusive friendship has so far been the identity of this series. Of course, this being cricket, not everything has gone to plan, most notably in the exchange of views that passed between Gautam Gambhir and Shahid Afridi in Kanpur.

The occasional lapse into over-competitiveness cannot erase all the smaller instances that have emerged in the matches; batsmen are greeted by fielders, batting landmarks are applauded in the field, balls gently tossed back to the opposition.

More than these have been the wide smiles on the faces of all the participants, which have regularly become laughs as jokes are passed between bowlers, fielders and batsmen.

Peace and friendship reign for now but, unfortunately, it was not always thus.

Of the many instances of players clashing in these matches in the past, a few stand out from the rest. India versus Pakistan at the World Cup is roundly regarded as the biggest match in World Cricket, and it certainly had a tumultuous start.

The first time the two sides met in the tournament was in 1992 in Sydney. Javed Miandad took exception to Kiran More’s chatter from behind the stumps and followed an angry exchange with a surreal imitation of More’s ‘kangaroo jump’ appealing style, but the potential humour of the situation was lost in the sense of ugly conflict.

Even today, More, who accepts that it was his words that sparked the fight, explains the incident in simple terms: “the situation was tense because it was an India-Pakistan match. Everything was at a feverish pitch at that point of time.”

The same excuse could have been used by Venkatesh Prasad in the 1996 quarter final, when he less than sportingly pointed Aamir Sohail back to the dressing room after he bowled him, in imitation of Sohail’s own gesture after he had hit the previous ball for four.

Whether the change has come from the players or the situation at large, that excuse seems much less acceptable now: the mere fact of the match can no longer justify behaviour that would be unacceptable in contests with other protagonists.

The behaviour of the crowds has often been a greater thermometer than the players’ conduct for the way in which political tensions have spilled into the cricket field.

The 1999 Calcutta test match was a particular low point, as the game had to be finished in an empty stadium after the crowd proved incapable of dealing with the idea that Tendulkar can be run out in unfortunate circumstances without cheating being involved.

The mercurial nature of the fans’ behaviour emerged just a few years later, when India arrived in Pakistan for the ‘Friendship Tour’ in 2003/4.

The rapturous reception received by the Indian fans is still warmly remembered, and the repeated sight of the two flags being sewn together and waved in an orgy of positive feeling felt designed to send tingles down the necks of anyone who believed in a positive future for the region.

The thawing of relations as seen since that tour points to the gradual maturation, on both a sporting and national level, of the big players on both sides.

There is a counterpoint to all of this bonhomie however. Classic sporting encounters rarely consist of two teams cracking jokes with each other, and then embracing. The argument that the lack of aggression leads to a lack of contest is a valid one.

That the Pakistan players came to Virender Sehwag’s home to commiserate after his father passed away lends them credit as human beings, but will not affect the cricket they produce.

Likewise Shoaib Akhtar posing in Indian policemen’s clothes or Yuvraj inviting both sides to his house to celebrate Diwali together.

Players at each others throats will not necessarily play any better cricket, but their commitment to the cause of victory may just rise in commensurate with their tempers.

The choice that Sub Continent cricket has to make, then, is between fiery, exciting war or warm, cosy peace.

Peace may seem to be the sensible option, but for any mischievous fans who still long for the days when India Pakistan matches resembled a cross between trench warfare and a Marx brothers film, it should be remembered that, at some point, the Sreesanth factor is sure to come into play.