From Venkat to Ashwin - a glimpse at various generations of cricketers from Madras

For a generation that grew up on a staple-diet of televised cricket in the 1990s, Srinivasaraghavan Venkataraghavan represented the man in the white, coat and hat – a top-class umpire respected across the cricketing world. But Venkataraghavan – or Venkat as he is fondly known – has donned many a hat before the role for which he was most recently cherished and almost all of them with grand success.

Venkat was, to begin with, a cricketer of great renown. He wasn’t the first from Madras to play Test cricket for India – the honour belongs to M.J. Gopalan who played a game in 1934 – but he is easily the city’s most celebrated modern-day cricketer. An off-spinner of classical virtues, Venkat bowled with an elegant side-on action, relying on traditional weapons of flight, drift and turn for his wickets. Boasting unerring accuracy in addition to his considerable powers of spin, had Venkat not had the misfortune of sharing the stage with Erapalli Prasanna – one of the greatest off-spinners of all time – and the rest of the famed spin quartet – Bhagwat Chandrashekar and Bishan Bedi – he would have surely gone on to play more than the 57 Tests he played for India and amassed more than the 156 wickets he scalped.

But statistics, as is so often the case, fails to tell the whole tale. Venkat was an astute thinker of the game, an outstanding close-in fieldsman and a man of unimpeachable integrity. His international career spanned 18 years – evincing his supreme fitness – in which he captained India in five Tests and in both the 1975 and 1979 editions of the World Cup. Upon retirement, he enjoyed success in the various jobs that he partook in, including in roles as manager of the Indian team for its tours to Australia and the West Indies in 1985-86 and 1989 respectively and as national selector in 1991-92. As the only man to have both played and umpired in over fifty Tests, Venkat will remain the jewel in the crown of Madras cricket.

Venkat’s Test career coincided for a brief two year spell with that of Krishnamachari Srikkanth, but their roles and their personalities couldn’t have been more starkly different. Srikkanth was an opening batsman of thrilling yet flawed substance. His record scarcely did justice to his potential, but such things were only trivial in the exhilarating world that he lived in. He was an entertainer extraordinaire – impudent and cheeky the bowler’s reputation rarely mattered to him. Gifted with wonderful hand and eye coordination, his strokes weren’t always orthodox. Slashes over point and swishes over mid-on were executed with ease and insolence – all of which made for particularly invigorating viewing.

It was in the shorter format of the game that Srikkanth made his most telling contribution. The newer fans of cricket credit the Sri Lankan openers of the 1996 World Cup – Sanath Jayasuriya and Romesh Kaluwitharana – or the Kiwi, Mark Greatbatch for his role during the 1992 World Cup as proponents of attacking batsmanship in the opening phase of a One-Day innings. It was Srikkanth, though, who was the first to consistently deploy lofted strokes at the launch of an innings. What may seem routine now, however, wasn’t always so. It required a trend setter and Srikkanth was that man.

Between Srikkanth and the most recent lot from Madras – including Ravichandran Ashwin and Murali Vijay – there have been many fine cricketers from the city to represent the country. Yet, they have been unable to make a sustained impression at the international level. Laxman Sivaramakrishnan – a leg spinner of prodigious talents – played no more than nine Tests for India. Woorkeri Raman and Sadagopan Ramesh, two graceful left-handed openers lacked the temperament, if not the talent to cement their places in the team. Neither Hemang Badani nor Sridharan Sriram, both southpaws, was able to translate his domestic form into consistent run-making for India. L. Balaji, a swing bowler capable at one stage of producing deceptive pace, undone by injuries, has seen his career plunge. Likewise, wicketkeeper-batsman, Dinesh Karthik, unlucky in some people’s opinion to have had his calling coincide with M.S. Dhoni’s, has fallen by the wayside. Subramaniam Badrinath, a technically accomplished middle order batsman also seems to have missed the boat – although, perhaps not down to his own doing.

It is left then to Ashwin and Vijay and perhaps a promising young brigade, which includes Abhinav Mukund, a classical left-handed opening batsman, to carry forward Madras’s baton. Vijay, particularly at the Test level, when he has deputised for either Virender Sehwag or Gautam Gambhir has looked like he belongs. Ashwin, yet to play Test cricket has impressed on almost every occasion when he has played for India – including during the recently concluded, triumphant World Cup campaign, and it is only a matter of time before he earns a Test cap.

(A version of this article appeared in the Times of India dated April 23, 2011)

IIT-Chemplast, Bergkamp and the Ashes

(Also posted at : http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/iit-chemplast-bergkamp-and-the-ashes)

I had a few spare hours this morning and I felt the time would be well spent by visiting the I.I.T. Chemplast Cricket Ground. The Ground nestled in the Indian Institute of Technology’s lush campus in Madras brims with scenic beauty. With the dense trees enveloping the sides of the Ground and a small, yet pretty, red-bricked pavilion adding to its grandeur, I would imagine this to be one of the more attractive sports venues in India.

Anyway, Tamil Nadu were scheduled to play the Railways’ cricket team in a Ranji Trophy Super League Group A game here, and I thought watching a few hours of first-class cricket wouldn’t hurt, especially considering the setting. Braving the rush-hour morning traffic, I reached the venue, on time, at 9:30 AM only to be greeted with the site of grounds-men working furiously to get the field ready. Madras during the monsoons can be rather strange. A glance outside my window in the morning had suggested that, although it was a cloudy day, there weren’t any signs of overnight rain. As it turned out, it had rained in other parts of the city, and particularly harshly at Guindy, where the Ground is located. Not one to be instantly disillusioned, I waited, sitting under one of the giant trees that surround the Ground, reading my book – The Perfect 10 by Richard Williams, in which the author portrays the careers, oddly enough, of eleven different playmakers, ranging from Pele to Zinedine Zidane – but more on that later.

The Ground, from the boundary ropes, looked dry enough, but there were apparently a few wet patches in line with the fast bowlers’ run-ups and near the popping creases on both sides that were worrying the umpires. An inspection was scheduled for 10:30 and I decided to wait patiently until then. The captains, Dinesh Karthik and Murali Kartik, both had a walk to the middle, and as did T.N. quickies, C. Ganapathy and Lakshmipathy Balaji. Any hope of immediate play though was quickly quelled, with the patches near the crease continuing to trouble the umpires. The next inspection was scheduled for 12:00 noon, and I remained optimistic, hoping that even if the action commenced at 12:15, I could still, probably, watch an hour’s play before I had other matters to be concerned with. In the end, the inspection at 12:00 did not convince the umpires enough and the next bit of scrutiny was scheduled a further hour later. So I made my way out, and thanks to Cricinfo, I now hear that only eight overs were bowled, with T.N. ending the day on 26 runs for the loss of S. Anirudha.

The conditions, no doubt, made the visit mostly pointless, but I did get through substantial portions of Williams’s book. In essence the book is a depiction of a group of players, each of whom are his personal favourites, and who were all ‘conventional number 10s’ and celebrated for their playmaking. Essays on Ferenc Puskas; Pele; Gianni Rivera and Sandro Mazzola (a chapter is commonly devoted to the Milanese pair); Gunter Netzer, Michel Platini, Enzo Francescoli, Diego Maradona, Roberto Baggio, Dennis Bergkamp, and Zinedine Zidane constitute a chapter each. Having read a part of the book earlier, I reached up until the chapter in which he describes Bergkamp, by which time I found my thoughts drifting from the book’s contents to the sheer majesty of the Dutchman’s craft.

Much like Williams, I have a special reverence towards playmakers. Growing up as a Manchester United fan in the nineties and the two-thousands, it was rather difficult to appreciate Arsenal and their play, dazzling as it could be. But Bergkamp and Robert Pires – who was of course a wide midfield player – were exceptions in my abhorrence for Arsenal. Bergkamp’s technique, touch, control, passing, and shooting were all a delight, but his exemplary vision was, by far, his most laudable trait. His goal against Newcastle United in 2002, when he pirouetted around centre back Nikos Dabizas with a sublime piece of touch before slotting past Shay Given must surely rank as the finest piece of ingenuity witnessed in the Premier League. There have been goals scored, from tougher angles, with far greater ferocity, and possibly even with superior deftness in touch, but I doubt if any has been as inventive in its construction. It is for moments such as this that we watch sport and to be reminded of it, certainly made my visit worthwhile, even if conditions at IIT-Chemplast played spoilsport.

***

Tomorrow, the first Ashes test will commence at the Gabba in Brisbane. Unlike most previous tours to Australia, the visitors start the series as favourites, overwhelmingly so, in the minds of some. I think, though, the first test could be crucial in determining which way the series goes. Brisbane has seen unusually high amounts of rainfall this year, and while I hope there is enough cloud cover to assist James Anderson and Ben Hilfenhaus to charm us with their swing, I do hope the rain stays away, lest I be consigned to reminiscing about the clever geometry of Bergkamp’s play.

A Reminder of Cricket's Allure

Lately, I have been spending time watching odd cricket games, the scores of which, I may have at best, glanced at in the past, but regardless, it reminded me of why I am so beguiled by the game, which I have joyfully grown up watching. Among the myriad pleasures that cricket offers, watching an innings of elegant and authoritative batsmanship stands desperately close to the perch, if not on it. The game between Kerala and Tamil Nadu in the first round of the Subbhai Pillai Trophy may not have been the most enticing of contests, but it contained an innings of captivating beauty from K.B. Arun Karthik.

With Tamil Nadu, chasing a mere 190 for victory, Karthik walked in to bat after the early loss of opener S. Aniruddha. Having taken his time to settle down, Karthik unleashed a storm of scintillating strokes on either side of the wicket. Assured with the movement of his feet, Karthik drove with consummate and delightful ease through the offside and any delivery erring on the shorter side was dispatched over midwicket with dismissive simplicity.

The size of the target may have had much to do with Karthik’s approach to the innings, but in spite of an efficient spell from Sreesanth, Karthik was supremely poised and in complete control of his bearings throughout his ebullient knock. Left arm spinner P. Prashanth, was treated with particular disdain, as he was hammered in a single over for a six over midwicket and for a brace of boundaries through the same area. Unable to find gaps through conventional means against part time off spinner Rohan Prem, Karthik remained composed and resorted to the scoop behind the wicket keeper, every time the shot was on.

Of all the pretty strokes that he played, a back foot cover drive off Sreesanth to bring up his half century stood out for its immaculate placement and exquisite timing. Having reached his fifty off just forty deliveries, Karthik showcased tremendous temperament in consolidating his innings with the effortlessness of an established professional. Just, when it seemed that the scantiness of the target, may cause Karthik to miss out on a deserved ton, he launched a huge six over long on and followed it up with a sumptuous drive over extra-cover to reach the three figure mark.

Possibly, my eulogies are a touch excessive for an innings played against an almost amateurish Kerala team, but the pleasures that Karthik’s knock invoked in me cannot be ignored. It may not have been an innings of atypical grace or extraordinary authority played against the best of opponents, but it was certainly littered with strokes that were as gorgeous as they were effective. I am not sure what future Karthik has in store for himself in the game, but his century certainly proved a reminder of cricket’s truly alluring charm.