Was it a bead of sweat on John Wright’s cheek, or a tear that had rolled down shortly after Mohammed Kaif’s dismissal? Delhi was hot, no doubt, and India’s situation had by then become hopeless. The TV camera grabs were inconclusive, but the coach’s sullen visage reflected a mood that surely had more to do than just the weather.
It was an unhappy send-off for the amiable Kiwi who had been such a wonderful prop to this team for almost five years.
He was appointed in 2000 to clean up the debris and rebuild the team in the wake of the devastation caused by the match-fixing scam. For a while, especially in 2003-2004, it appeared that India were headed for the zenith. But by 2005, the wheel had turned a full circle, and the team was back to square one. No wonder Wright looked crestfallen.
This has been a season of discontent in Indian cricket, with both the administration and the players. So much was promised, so little delivered.
The establishment got into an unseemly internecine controversies at the start of the season, and by the end of it, the team was in a right royal mess too. Surely, there is a connection there somewhere.
But to focus on the cricket, India began disappointingly in the Asia Cup and finished miserably by losing the One-day series to Pakistan. In between there were some fine wins notably one Test each against Australia and South Africa but overall, the performances were unconvincing, and unbecoming of a side aspiring to be the best in the world. The players were driven to excess, but largely off the field. On it, pusillanimity ruled. The urge to excel, the deep desire to win was in evidence only in fits and starts and the series against Pakistan reflected this mindset adequately. There were three crucial stages which shaped the destiny of this tour. At Mohali, India allowed Pakistan to get away with a draw on the final day, at Bangalore India allowed themselves to be choked on the last day, and at Ahmedabad, when Shahid Afridi went berserk.
There was nothing that anybody could have done about Afridi in that form, but had India not played with so much self-doubt in the earlier two instances, perhaps the third contingency may never have arisen. By the time the Kotla ODI was half complete, Indian cricket had been exposed.
It is easy to be condemnatory, but that will hardly help rebuild the prestige of Indian cricket. Yet, searching questions must now be asked about why there should be such stagnation when the resources are huge and talent aplenty. The focus should now be the future, more specifically the 2007 World Cup. To get a team ready for that tournament, the players have to be found now, and not all of them need be established stars.
Indeed, the star system may be part of the problem.
If you’ve wondered what profound thoughts Inzy and Youhana, or Tendulkar and Dravid share in mid-wicket conferences between deliveries, this letter to the London Times dated September 2, 1980 (which I found in the Boundary Book, Second Innings) should help clear some of the mystery. It was sent by David Pearl, captain of the Poets and Peasants Cricket Club:
"Not all mid-wicket conferences concern matters of import. Last season, I once came to the wicket when the score was 12 for five. The other batsman, who had been there from the outset, solemnly beckoned me to mid-wicket to give, I assumed, some useful advice as to what I should do. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ he said, ‘but I’ve just lost a fly-button. Would you mind keeping a look-out for it?’ Unfortunately, I did not remain long enough to assist him in the search."