It has been an exhilarating month of cricket, and there is much to celebrate in India’s performance in the Tests against the Aussies. I will write that more celebratory post-mortem of the Test series in my next post. For now, I want to concentrate on the fly in the soup, in the guise of the selection for the one-dayers.
For starters, it has been clear for some time that India’s one-day performances have not matched up to their Test performances. We are arguably the second best Test side in the world (perhaps with South Africa); but are certainly close to the bottom of the pile in the one-dayers. Why exactly this is the case is hard to tell, but the precipitous fall began in the Chappell regime, and while it has been righted to a certain extent, there is still a lot of work to be done.
One simple answer has been given as a mantra though, which is “seniors”. When applied in the context of Indian one-day cricket, “seniors” has in some circles almost become an insult, a euphemism for geriatrics. The idea here is that the seniors are responsible for our defeats because they are so slow in the field that they concede the runs that make up the difference between victory and defeat. It is a different matter that it is largely the seniors who make the runs as well – barring a couple of players like Yuvraj and Dhoni, the huge gulf in quality between the senior batsmen and the youngsters is all too evident (and in the Tests, the difference in gulf between them and even Yuvraj and Dhoni was evident). It was through this specious argument that Laxman was denied a World Cup; and it is through this argument that Ganguly and Dravid have returned home; the latter being one of the most reliable no. 5 batsmen in the game, the former having come off a year when he scored more than a 1000 runs. They will take some replacing. In any case, in following the line that it is time for the seniors to go, the selectors and much of our media has followed the Chappell line hook, line and sinker. We know what happened the last time Chappell’s agenda for Indian one-day cricket was followed.
I can at least see the logic to looking beyond Ganguly and Dravid – there is a World Cup in three years time, and now is the time to build towards it. If the selectors stick to their guns (instead of pulling Ganguly and Dravid back in at the first sign of failure), this could even be called a courageous decision. So while I would certainly have retained at least Ganguly in the team purely on basis of performance, I can at least understand why this might be the time to move beyond him. What I cannot understand are the people who have been brought in their stead.
There is a fundamental flaw to the logic of “seniors” v. “youngsters” as it has played out in Indian cricket. And that is that there is a whole generation in between who is just abandoned. But it is that generation which has been toughened up through years of first class cricket (increasingly competitive in India), which has not just potential but also performance backing them up. There is no question that the leap from under-19 cricket to international cricket is greater than the leap from domestic cricket to international cricket. People like Saurav Tiwary and Tanmay Srivastava, who have set the under-19 world on fire, have barely registered a blip in domestic cricket. While there are some like Ishant Sharma who make the transition well, there are any numbers of others, like Suresh Raina, who don’t. Someone like Yuvraj Singh, who was plucked straight from under-19 cricket, turned in the odd scintillating performance, but took more than 5 years to become a consistent performer at the international level – until then, his one-day average was hovering in the high 20s, quite miserable for a middle order batsman. Even someone like Robin Uthappa has looked a far better one-day batsman after a superlative year for Karnataka – when he first played for India, he started with a bang, but it was the intervening time in domestic cricket that helped him become more consistent and mentally tough.
In India however, it is almost entirely the case that if someone hasn’t broken into the team by their mid-twenties, or if someone loses form in their late twenties, they are thrown in the dustbin while the next new teenage sensation is unearthed. And that is a huge mistake. In Australia, the line of succession is clear. You have to wait a long time to break into the team, but you keep your place in line. In India, if you end up waiting longer than a couple of years to break in, your place is taken by the next 20-year old who has just arrived on the scene. Some of the key Australian players in the current side are those who had to wait till they were 29 or 30 before they got their chance. In the process, they became experienced, mentally tough, and deeply hungry for the baggy green. In India, if you are 29 or 30 and haven’t made the break, you either resign yourself to your fate to become the senior statesman of your state side (K.P. Bhaskar; Sridharan Sharath; Amol Muzumdar; Ashish Zaidi; Kanwaljit Singh; V. Sivaramakrishnan; Sunil Joshi; Dodda Ganesh; Debashis Mohanty; Pankaj Dharmani; Hemang Badani; Sairaj Bahatule; J.P. Yadav, to name just a few. All of these players were good enough to have good careers with India, but those that were given a few early runs and were dropped were never given proper chances again in spite of heavy domestic performances; and many of them were never even considered once they reached a certain fairly young age), or you lose faith in the system and do something silly that ensures you will never play for India again (Ranadeb Bose’s recent outburst against the selectors; the Abhijit Kale bribery scandal). Sometimes you don’t even wait till the late 20s – Ambati Rayudu, one of the most talented young batting prospects to have emerged this decade, has signed himself over to the ICL at the ripe age of 23, feeling that he has already missed the bus. If Michael Hussey or Stuart Clark had been Indian, they would never have had a chance at international level.
So even if one decides that it is time to build a one-day team with the 2011 World Cup in mind, the core of the team should be people who are in their mid-to-late 20s, who have not just form and potential but also experience. There are some younger people who have obviously earned their straps – Dinesh Karthik, Uthappa, Sreesanth, Irfan Pathan and R.P. Singh are all just 22 or 23, but have already shown their ability at the highest level. But the likes of Suresh Raina, Rohit Sharma, Manoj Tiwary and Piyush Chawla haven’t. And however talented these youngsters might be, there are better claimants to a one-day spot, even with a long-term view in mind.
Consider the 9 best batsmen to select. Even if Tendulkar is one, the core group around him would be Dhoni, Yuvraj and the rejuvenated Sehwag. DK and Uthappa, though younger, are definitely worthy of being persisted with, while Gautam Gambhir is a classic example of the mid-20s player who has earned his keep through performing year in and year out – a performance that has now translated from the domestic arena into some strong performances for India in the past year. But the obvious candidates for the last two spots, in my mind, are Mohammad Kaif and Subramaniam Badrinath.
Consider Kaif’s case. A brilliant talent with terrific commitment, he was someone who at an early age looked like he would be a future captain. He had his ups and downs – in part because he, like Yuvraj, was thrust into international cricket straight from under-19 – but it seemed like the selectors had decided he was a long-term prospect, so persisted with him through the troughs. (No doubt this had something to do with John Wright, who was a great admirer of his). Indeed, sometimes they persisted with him when purely on performance someone like Hemang Badani might have had stronger claims. When you put all that investment into somebody, you want to make sure you provide the conditions for that investment to pay off.
When Kaif was dropped after the series in South Africa, the decision was legitimate. He, like Raina (who was dropped with him) was going through a torrid run, and purely on performance, he didn’t deserve a continued spot in the side. But in the intervening year, he has gone back to domestic cricket and done the hard yards. He has made more than 700 runs in the Ranji Trophy, and has led UP to the Ranji finals with typical flair. In terms of form, he is at the top of his game now. It would have been the perfect time to recall him. Along with Dhoni, Yuvraj and Sehwag, he could have formed the core of the one-day leadership team, not just for this tri-series, but going forward. Yet, he languishes without explanation.
It is true that Raina has also played well for UP. Indeed, there is nothing to separate him from Kaif purely in terms of record. But the experience and temperament that Kaif brings to the side cannot be matched by Raina. When Raina played for India, he looked like an enormous prospect who was thrown into the deep end too soon. When Kaif played for India, he looked like a consummate team player who belonged, even when the runs weren’t flowing. Kaif has been there, done that, has experience of Australian conditions, knows the pressures of batting at 5 or 6. He knows how to rebuild the innings in case of an early collapse and play the role of sheet anchor to an aggressive top order batsman. He knows how to rotate the strike and bat with the lower order batsmen. He knows how to change gears towards the end of an innings, and adapt to the needs of the situation. However talented Raina might be, he hasn’t shown any of these skills at international level. Not least, Kaif is a brilliant fielder, every bit as good as Raina is. So why isn’t he is Australia right now?
Similarly, consider Badrinath. He has made runs at every opportunity, whether for Tamilnadu or India A, whether in the longer version of the game or the one-day variety, for the last three to four years, unflaggingly and with great consistency (don’t forget his brilliant run-a-ball 100 against South Africa A at the start of the season, batting at 7, which he followed up with a 4-wicket haul). In addition to being a batting all-rounder who can bowl off-spin at least as well as Viru, he too is an electric fielder – certainly one of the 5 best fielders in India today (along with Yuvraj, Kaif, Raina and Karthik). In October, he was considered good enough to be in the 15. Since October, he has performed just as well as Raina, and far better than Rohit Sharma or Manoj Tiwary. Yet, the latter two find themselves in Australia, while Badri languishes at home, no doubt wondering if, at 26, he has missed the bus for good.
Sure, Rohit is a good batsman. Just as Raina was always a good batsman. But it looks like Rohit is going through the same patch as Raina. His last one-day innings for India looked good, but he followed that up with a disastrous season for Bombay, to the extent that his coach Pravin Amre publicly questioned his commitment and temperament. What will Badri earn from another prolific season with Tamilnadu? Nothing. What will Rohit earn by waiting a year and playing for Bombay, an extremely hard team to play for? Without a doubt, an enormous amount of valuable experience. If Rohit is found wanting for Bombay, he certainly doesn’t deserve to be playing for India. If Rohit succeeds for Bombay, it will give him the confidence and mental toughness to make the transition up a step, just as Uthappa’s heroics for Karnataka made him more ready to play for India. In either case – selecting Badri now and waiting on Rohit for a year would have allowed Badri a look in at peak form, while giving Rohit the time and space to mature. Selecting Rohit now and waiting on Badri for a year will probably mean throwing Rohit into the deep end too soon, as we did with Raina, while making Badri lose heart and throw in the towel, or at the very least wonder what more he needs to do to convince the selectors of his worthiness for the India cap. Now it might be that Raina or Rohit comes good – but that will happen on a hope and prayer. Just throwing in youngsters into the deep end and hoping it all works out isn’t vision or long term planning. Having a clear line of succession and sticking to it, as the Aussies do, is. For Badri to be deemed good enough in October, for him to go back to domestic cricket and rack up the runs some more, and then to find himself not deemed good enough in January, is inexplicable.
How does this happen? How are the fringe players selected? How is bench strength determined? Do they just roll dice (1 means Badri, 2 Raina, 3 Rohit, 4 Manoj, 5 Kaif, 6 Parthiv)? Do they take turns deciding who makes up the last slots? (Accha yaar Bhupinder, aaj teri baari hai, tu bhej apne chokre ko). It is bench strength that distinguishes the great teams like Australia from pretenders like India, and the way we pick them is ludicrous. For Kaif or Badri to not even make it as the 17th player backing up Yuvraj defies belief. Instead goes Manoj Tiwary, who has made less than 500 runs for Bengal, a team that had a disastrous season and ended near the bottom of the pile. If a Tiwary or a Rohit had been selected when they were at the top of their game, I could understand it. But they’re being sent to play the World Cup champs and runners-up on the backs of extremely mediocre performances against the likes of Orissa and Saurashtra. Viru could make that step up, failing against Himachal and then taking Brett Lee apart. But Viru has played international cricket for 8 years. What can we expect of these youngsters?
All of this however pales into insignificance compared to the decision to drop Murali Kartik. Again, Piyush Chawla is not a bad player, and he had a big hand in UP’s Ranji run (not as big as Kaif, though, so I guess UP’s Ranji run is only used selectively as an excuse). But Kartik was simply brilliant against Australia and Pakistan in the fall. He is quality left-arm spinner, in the same league, in my opinion, as Daniel Vettori or Monty Panesar, and someone whom Dhoni wanted in the side (are the selectors overruling him on this one?). He was man-of-the-match in the last ODI against Australia, just as he was man-of-the-match in the last Test against Australia in 2004 – after which he was promptly dropped. Can you imagine any other situation in world cricket where being man-of-the-match against Australia gets you dropped – twice, once in each form of the game? With Harbhajan Singh’s form iffy at best, Kartik becomes a potentially key cog in our planning towards 2011 – at which point he would only be 34, hardly too old for a spinner to play a key role in the tournament.
The exclusion of Kaif, Badri and Kartik is more serious, though, than simply affecting our World Cup chances. This is because both these players could be a key part of our Test transition as well. Of all the young batsmen coming through the ranks, Badri is the one who is without a doubt the soundest technically, and the one who looks most likely to be a successful Test batsman. (Yuvraj and Dhoni were cruelly exposed in Australia; there are grave doubts that Gambhir has the technique to succeed at the top of the order in Tests; and the likes of Raina, Rohit and Tiwary have yet to establish themselves in one-days, let alone Tests). Kaif doesn’t have Badri’s technique, but has already played key Test innings – his 100 in the West Indies, his match-winning performance with Ganguly at Kandy. Most importantly, with Dravid’s form in such decline, we desperately need someone who can be a long-term no. 3 for us. Yuvraj could conceivably replace Ganguly; Kaif could conceivably replace Laxman; Sachin will be irreplaceable; but Dravid’s replacement will be crucial, and we need to be nurturing Badri for that spot. Having a solid technician is key to India’s fortunes in Tests, especially abroad. Dravid has played that role for the past decade, and Gavaskar played it through the 70s and much of the 80s. In between the two, Sanjay Manjrekar played it admirably – while not a great batsman in the league of Gavaskar or Dravid, he provided a crucial balance to the Test middle order. Maybe Badri will not be the next Dravid (though he is better equipped than anyone else who exists in India at the moment). But even if he could be the next Manjrekar, taking over in the Test side in the next couple of years and carrying through for 5-6 years after that, he would have played a crucial role in dealing with the retirement of the golden generation.
The problem is, there is no place for Badri in the Test dispensation – he obviously cannot displace one of the big 4, and Yuvraj Singh seems to have the back-up middle order spot sewed up. So the only way Badri can stake his claim is through the one-day spot. Again, he is ideally suited to taking Dravid’s spot at 5, having a very similar game to Dravid.
Similarly, Kumble will probably retire from Tests in the next year or two, at which point our spin attack is in serious crisis, with Harbhajan Singh showing nothing over the past 3 years (except the wickets of Ponting) to show that he is the man to lead India’s spin attack next. Kartik should be a key part of the plan at that stage, whether as support bowler to Bhajji or as lead spinner. By jettisoning him now, we are not just doing our one-day fortunes harm, but our long term Test fortunes as well. But of course there will be no burning effigies for him, or Kaif, or Badri – indeed, there has barely been an outcry in the press, for whom only the superstars matter.
So – let us raise a toast to the Indian Test team for its fine performance over the past month. And let us blame the selectors once again for ruining a fine party.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
Cricket again?
So the bandwagon moves on to Perth, with Kumble’s magnanimity ensuring that cricket survives after the ordeals at Sydney. And after the tour game in Canberra, the Indian management is left with some nice little dilemmas. It is not often that one is 2-0 down in a series and yet finds oneself with too many players to choose from, but that is precisely the position the Indians find themselves in. In many of the cases below, the only right decision is a gut decision. But here are at least a couple of dilemmas for the Indian management:
First -
The fourth bowler – Kumble and R.P. Singh pick themselves, and I think there is little question about Ishant Sharma after his spunky performance in Sydney. But who will the 4th bowler be? Harbhajan Singh has played as second spinner so far in this series. His performance, I think, has been better than it has been in general over the past couple of years. On the other hand, there is no question that it is still far off his best from a few years ago. Bhajji looks a wicket-taking bowler when he slows it down and tosses it up, but at the first sign that the batsmen are getting after him, he reverts to flat defensive stuff. His 63 in Sydney also showed much needed lower-order character, but the man who would replace him, Irfan Pathan, is no mug with the bat. In principle, going into a Test at Perth, which is still likely the quickest wicket in the world, with only two seamers, one of whom has just played 3 Tests, seems like a bad idea. On the other hand, the one thing Bhajji has done is keep Ponting quiet in this series, and of course if Ponting gets away, one is looking at another 200 runs to chase. So the question – is Bhajji worth his place in the side just to keep Ponting in check and get under the skin of the Aussies?
The safe solution: Play to the conditions. At Perth, Pathan will be valuable both as a third seamer and as a no. 8 batsman. Give Bhajji a break, and think about him for Adelaide if need be.
The bold solution: Play them both. This way, we will have 3 seamers and the option of Bhajji bowling to Ponting. This means playing Pathan as an all-rounder and going in with 6 specialist batsmen on a seam-friendly wicket. But with the series virtually gone, only a win will suffice; Pathan will surely do more with the bat than Yuvraj has managed so far; and to get the 20 to 25 wickets required to beat Australia at home, 5 bowlers are a far better bet than the insurance of an extra batsman. But in that case, who to drop?
Second -
The opening conundrum: Wasim Jaffer has so far been found out by Brett Lee. But he has run into some sort of form in the tour game, as have two of his rivals for the spot, Sehwag and Karthik. So the perennial mid-tour dilemma when we play abroad – what will our opening combination be?
Let me say at the outset that I think Jaffer should stay in the 11, though I suspect that his position will be under some scrutiny. I have said from the start of this series that having a strong opening combination was going to be key in succeeding Down Under. Technically, Jaffer remains the soundest of the three specialist openers we have in the tour party. He has come off a sensational year in 2007. Yes, the Aussies represent a step up from the other opposition he has faced – but a man who has it in him to succeed in the West Indies, South Africa and England certainly has it in him to succeed in Australia. Indeed, the Perth wicket might be to his liking – he is at his best off the back foot, and it is swing rather than bounce that really troubles him. Remember that he struggled at the start of the South Africa series as well, only to bounce back brilliantly in Cape Town. Remember also that a perpetual problem for the Indians has been their impatience with opening batsmen, which has led to the curtailment of such fine careers as Akash Chopra’s. Jaffer’s problem in the series so far has been a lack of confidence, but hopefully his performance in Canberra will have helped him on that score.
What that leaves is the question of his opening partner. I have been extremely critical of the decision to select Sehwag for this tour, but his performance in Canberra – albeit against a second-string attack – shows just what he is capable of if he can get some form going. Taking the attack to the Aussies will be crucial at this stage of the series, and having Viru at the other end will take some of the pressure off Jaffer, who does far better as the sheet anchor than as the opener setting the agenda (as he has had to do in Dravid’s company). Viru also provides a second spinning option if we decide to play Pathan rather than Bhajji.
More about other matters later, but these two points sum up my temptations for Perth – play Pathan instead of Bhajji, and Viru instead of Yuvraj, as a safe course of action; play Pathan instead of Yuvraj, and thereby play 5 bowlers, as an attacking course of action. The real choice for me in the 11, then, is between Viru and Bhajji, with many sympathies to Dinesh Karthik, who will have to wait his turn.
First -
The fourth bowler – Kumble and R.P. Singh pick themselves, and I think there is little question about Ishant Sharma after his spunky performance in Sydney. But who will the 4th bowler be? Harbhajan Singh has played as second spinner so far in this series. His performance, I think, has been better than it has been in general over the past couple of years. On the other hand, there is no question that it is still far off his best from a few years ago. Bhajji looks a wicket-taking bowler when he slows it down and tosses it up, but at the first sign that the batsmen are getting after him, he reverts to flat defensive stuff. His 63 in Sydney also showed much needed lower-order character, but the man who would replace him, Irfan Pathan, is no mug with the bat. In principle, going into a Test at Perth, which is still likely the quickest wicket in the world, with only two seamers, one of whom has just played 3 Tests, seems like a bad idea. On the other hand, the one thing Bhajji has done is keep Ponting quiet in this series, and of course if Ponting gets away, one is looking at another 200 runs to chase. So the question – is Bhajji worth his place in the side just to keep Ponting in check and get under the skin of the Aussies?
The safe solution: Play to the conditions. At Perth, Pathan will be valuable both as a third seamer and as a no. 8 batsman. Give Bhajji a break, and think about him for Adelaide if need be.
The bold solution: Play them both. This way, we will have 3 seamers and the option of Bhajji bowling to Ponting. This means playing Pathan as an all-rounder and going in with 6 specialist batsmen on a seam-friendly wicket. But with the series virtually gone, only a win will suffice; Pathan will surely do more with the bat than Yuvraj has managed so far; and to get the 20 to 25 wickets required to beat Australia at home, 5 bowlers are a far better bet than the insurance of an extra batsman. But in that case, who to drop?
Second -
The opening conundrum: Wasim Jaffer has so far been found out by Brett Lee. But he has run into some sort of form in the tour game, as have two of his rivals for the spot, Sehwag and Karthik. So the perennial mid-tour dilemma when we play abroad – what will our opening combination be?
Let me say at the outset that I think Jaffer should stay in the 11, though I suspect that his position will be under some scrutiny. I have said from the start of this series that having a strong opening combination was going to be key in succeeding Down Under. Technically, Jaffer remains the soundest of the three specialist openers we have in the tour party. He has come off a sensational year in 2007. Yes, the Aussies represent a step up from the other opposition he has faced – but a man who has it in him to succeed in the West Indies, South Africa and England certainly has it in him to succeed in Australia. Indeed, the Perth wicket might be to his liking – he is at his best off the back foot, and it is swing rather than bounce that really troubles him. Remember that he struggled at the start of the South Africa series as well, only to bounce back brilliantly in Cape Town. Remember also that a perpetual problem for the Indians has been their impatience with opening batsmen, which has led to the curtailment of such fine careers as Akash Chopra’s. Jaffer’s problem in the series so far has been a lack of confidence, but hopefully his performance in Canberra will have helped him on that score.
What that leaves is the question of his opening partner. I have been extremely critical of the decision to select Sehwag for this tour, but his performance in Canberra – albeit against a second-string attack – shows just what he is capable of if he can get some form going. Taking the attack to the Aussies will be crucial at this stage of the series, and having Viru at the other end will take some of the pressure off Jaffer, who does far better as the sheet anchor than as the opener setting the agenda (as he has had to do in Dravid’s company). Viru also provides a second spinning option if we decide to play Pathan rather than Bhajji.
More about other matters later, but these two points sum up my temptations for Perth – play Pathan instead of Bhajji, and Viru instead of Yuvraj, as a safe course of action; play Pathan instead of Yuvraj, and thereby play 5 bowlers, as an attacking course of action. The real choice for me in the 11, then, is between Viru and Bhajji, with many sympathies to Dinesh Karthik, who will have to wait his turn.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Why Harbhajan Singh is not a racist
So to compound one of the worst umpiring games in living memory, Mike Proctor has banned Harbhajan Singh for three Test matches for calling Andrew Symonds a monkey. The incompetence of officialdom in this game is now complete. We already knew Bucknor and Benson were third-rate; the third umpire threw his hat into the fray with his terrible stumping non-decision with respect to Symonds; and now Proctor has ensured that the match referee’s position has also been further tarnished.
I don’t know at this point what happened at the hearing. All that I know is what I saw on TV at the time, and the initial report on cricinfo. Based on that, the events are as follows – Symonds and Ponting have alleged that Bhajji made a racist taunt against the former; Bhajji and the non-striker Sachin Tendulkar do not seem to think that anything serious or racist was said; the umpires, who are supposed to adjudicate in situations where it’s one person’s word against another’s, apparently didn’t hear anything. Hence, Proctor accepted the Australians’ word, and banned Bhajji.
If Bhajji did use a racist word against Symonds, it was stupid and he should face the consequences. Of course, that is nothing compared to the vile invective that Rod Marsh and the Brothers Chappell would hurl at opposing batsmen from behind the wicket in the 1970s. But there is no use in pointing to three decades of openly racist boorishness on the part of the Aussies as an excuse. That is a different story.
No, the point is to examine what is actually at stake here, and what constitutes racism. Sure, Harbhajan Singh calling Symonds a monkey is racist (if it actually happened – under any remotely legitimate judicial system, this is something that has to be proved rather than simply alleged). But let’s look at three other aspects of this situation which are very important to consider:
First -
If Bhajji is declared guilty despite his protestations of innocence; despite Sachin’s backing; despite the fact that the umpires themselves didn’t hear the offending comment; then what that means is that Ponting’s word has simply been accepted by Proctor. This is not the first time in this game that Ponting’s word was accepted by an official – it was also accepted when Benson asked Ponting if Clarke caught Ganguly cleanly, thereby sending Sourav on his way when the decision should have been referred, and when the batsman should have gotten the benefit of the doubt.
What is Ponting’s credibility here? Minutes before the Ganguly dismissal, he had claimed a catch off Dhoni when the ball had clearly hit the ground. What is the credibility of the man he was backing? Clarke is a fellow who didn’t walk after cutting the ball to slip. And of course, Ponting is making a case against someone who has dismissed him 8 times, and who has contributed to Ponting’s own modest series here – so he clearly has a vested interest in Bhajji not playing for the rest of the series. Yet, his word has not just been accepted, but has been accepted over the word of Sachin, well regarded as one of the straightest men in the game.
In colonial times, “justice” was often that which was meted out to the natives on the basis of the word of the white man. Bhajji has been banned purely on the word of Ponting; Ganguly was given out purely on the word of Ponting. That is not incompetence. That is racism.
Second -
Let us talk about the way the two teams are represented. Living in the US, I have to endure the Channel 9 commentary team. Richie Benaud is a sterling exception, but all the others – Bill Lawry, Ian Chappell, Tony Greig, Mark Taylor, Michael Slater and Ian Healy – are simply a bunch of losers. To their credit, they are unstinting in their praise and admiration for Laxman and Tendulkar, because the Aussies do recognize quality when they see it. But otherwise, the way they depict the game is miserably one-sided.
I digress though. Yes, Ian Healy would be better served wearing a mini-skirt and pom-poms than a suit and tie, but that is neither here nor there. Yes, many of these commentators were the same ones who backed Dean Jones after he had called Hashim Amla a terrorist on air, pointing out at great length that it was merely a stupid thing to do, that it would have been alright if he had bothered to turn the microphone off first, and that at the end of the day he was, even if a trifle misguided, One of the Boys. But that too is irrelevant – double standards are a reflection of hypocrisy and lack of professionalism, not necessarily of racism.
No – the representation that is consequential is the way the two teams are defined at critical moments. For instance, when the Australians get a couple of wickets, crowd the bat and appeal (oftentimes irrationally) at just about everything, we hear that they are “on the attack”, “sensing blood”, “moving in for the kill”. When the Indians do so, we hear Tony Greig magnanimously say “Oh, these Indians are getting excitable and animated out there, aren’t they?!” Have you ever heard of the Indians sensing blood? Have you ever heard of the Australians getting excitable and animated? I thought not.
Edward Said has famously pointed out that one of the most consistent ways in which colonial representation operates is through the constant re-inscription of whites as manly, virile, courageous and obdurate, and of the natives as effeminate, hysterical and irrational. When the native is represented as manly, it is either as savage, or as mystical and impossible to comprehend (what lovely oriental wrists that Laxman has!). What we invariably hear from the Australian commentary team (again Benaud excepted) is not analysis. That too is racism.
Third -
Finally, let us talk about Level 3 offences under the ICC Code of Conduct. My good friend Mouli astutely pointed out to me that the Aussie media labeled Bhajji the “turbanator” after the 2001 series, and that is a name he has been referred by repeatedly over the past 7 years. But turbanator is clearly a name that is based on outward appearance linked to religion, and name-calling based on religion is unambiguously a Level 3 offence. Has any Aussie commentator ever been booked for calling Bhajji turbanator? I thought not. And that is racism.
None of this is innocent, especially not when the target of disciplinary action is Bhajji. Bhajji after all comes from a minority community in India. When he grew up playing gali cricket, he must have been the constant butt of jokes, because young Indian boys make fun of their Sikh friends as a matter of course. When he was a young child, his community was the victim of three days of coordinated, state-abetted genocide after the death of Indira Gandhi. Bhajji might be coarse, abrasive and unthinking, but he must know a thing or two about what racism really means, about the ridicule that comes with being a certain sort of minority in India, of the absolute fear and terror that can be associated with looking a certain way. It is particularly ironic that he should be lectured to by Mike Proctor, who played in a country and at a time of apartheid, and who has constantly been pitied by the likes of the Channel 9 commentary team for being “denied” a proper international career as a consequence.
In some ways, it is a good thing that the Australians are taking racism in cricket seriously. After three decades of dishing out racist abuse to others, it is time they recognized that such taunts are not on. It is a pity that they have only come to realize this after being subject to such abuse themselves, but that is no surprise. But they still haven’t gotten the fact that racism is not simply about abuse; it is the institutionalized and deeply ingrained sets of attitudes and practices that play out over and over again, decades after the formal end of colonialism. It is about umpires and referees that simply accept a man’s word for its whiteness; it is about commentators who constantly represent certain teams in certain ways, and other teams in other ways; it is about the hubris of a system that believes it can be pious and unctuous about racism while being completely blind to its own perpetuation of it.
One quick thought about response. I thought Kumble’s staying on the field and shaking the Aussies’ hands after the game was gracious and magnanimous, a true upholding of the spirit of a game that the Aussies have so severely tarnished over the past week. But at the same time I think of Gavaskar walking out at Melbourne in 1980; of Inzamam-ul-Haq refusing to take the field at the Oval in 2006 because he felt that his team’s honor had been tarnished; of Javed Miandad raising his bat against Dennis Lillee, showing finally that enough was enough. Kumble showed grace; but sometimes, asserting one’s dignity is not about grace, but about a willingness to spit back in the other person’s face. What I want to see now from the Indians is not grace, but defiance and contempt. I admire Kumble greatly, but right now, I want to see in him a Gavaskar, a Miandad, an Inzy, a Ranatunga. A Harbhajan Singh.
Muthiah Muralitharan was probably right when he called Shane Warne a miserable man. But he was only partly right. This whole Australian team – players and commentators alike – are miserable men.
I don’t know at this point what happened at the hearing. All that I know is what I saw on TV at the time, and the initial report on cricinfo. Based on that, the events are as follows – Symonds and Ponting have alleged that Bhajji made a racist taunt against the former; Bhajji and the non-striker Sachin Tendulkar do not seem to think that anything serious or racist was said; the umpires, who are supposed to adjudicate in situations where it’s one person’s word against another’s, apparently didn’t hear anything. Hence, Proctor accepted the Australians’ word, and banned Bhajji.
If Bhajji did use a racist word against Symonds, it was stupid and he should face the consequences. Of course, that is nothing compared to the vile invective that Rod Marsh and the Brothers Chappell would hurl at opposing batsmen from behind the wicket in the 1970s. But there is no use in pointing to three decades of openly racist boorishness on the part of the Aussies as an excuse. That is a different story.
No, the point is to examine what is actually at stake here, and what constitutes racism. Sure, Harbhajan Singh calling Symonds a monkey is racist (if it actually happened – under any remotely legitimate judicial system, this is something that has to be proved rather than simply alleged). But let’s look at three other aspects of this situation which are very important to consider:
First -
If Bhajji is declared guilty despite his protestations of innocence; despite Sachin’s backing; despite the fact that the umpires themselves didn’t hear the offending comment; then what that means is that Ponting’s word has simply been accepted by Proctor. This is not the first time in this game that Ponting’s word was accepted by an official – it was also accepted when Benson asked Ponting if Clarke caught Ganguly cleanly, thereby sending Sourav on his way when the decision should have been referred, and when the batsman should have gotten the benefit of the doubt.
What is Ponting’s credibility here? Minutes before the Ganguly dismissal, he had claimed a catch off Dhoni when the ball had clearly hit the ground. What is the credibility of the man he was backing? Clarke is a fellow who didn’t walk after cutting the ball to slip. And of course, Ponting is making a case against someone who has dismissed him 8 times, and who has contributed to Ponting’s own modest series here – so he clearly has a vested interest in Bhajji not playing for the rest of the series. Yet, his word has not just been accepted, but has been accepted over the word of Sachin, well regarded as one of the straightest men in the game.
In colonial times, “justice” was often that which was meted out to the natives on the basis of the word of the white man. Bhajji has been banned purely on the word of Ponting; Ganguly was given out purely on the word of Ponting. That is not incompetence. That is racism.
Second -
Let us talk about the way the two teams are represented. Living in the US, I have to endure the Channel 9 commentary team. Richie Benaud is a sterling exception, but all the others – Bill Lawry, Ian Chappell, Tony Greig, Mark Taylor, Michael Slater and Ian Healy – are simply a bunch of losers. To their credit, they are unstinting in their praise and admiration for Laxman and Tendulkar, because the Aussies do recognize quality when they see it. But otherwise, the way they depict the game is miserably one-sided.
I digress though. Yes, Ian Healy would be better served wearing a mini-skirt and pom-poms than a suit and tie, but that is neither here nor there. Yes, many of these commentators were the same ones who backed Dean Jones after he had called Hashim Amla a terrorist on air, pointing out at great length that it was merely a stupid thing to do, that it would have been alright if he had bothered to turn the microphone off first, and that at the end of the day he was, even if a trifle misguided, One of the Boys. But that too is irrelevant – double standards are a reflection of hypocrisy and lack of professionalism, not necessarily of racism.
No – the representation that is consequential is the way the two teams are defined at critical moments. For instance, when the Australians get a couple of wickets, crowd the bat and appeal (oftentimes irrationally) at just about everything, we hear that they are “on the attack”, “sensing blood”, “moving in for the kill”. When the Indians do so, we hear Tony Greig magnanimously say “Oh, these Indians are getting excitable and animated out there, aren’t they?!” Have you ever heard of the Indians sensing blood? Have you ever heard of the Australians getting excitable and animated? I thought not.
Edward Said has famously pointed out that one of the most consistent ways in which colonial representation operates is through the constant re-inscription of whites as manly, virile, courageous and obdurate, and of the natives as effeminate, hysterical and irrational. When the native is represented as manly, it is either as savage, or as mystical and impossible to comprehend (what lovely oriental wrists that Laxman has!). What we invariably hear from the Australian commentary team (again Benaud excepted) is not analysis. That too is racism.
Third -
Finally, let us talk about Level 3 offences under the ICC Code of Conduct. My good friend Mouli astutely pointed out to me that the Aussie media labeled Bhajji the “turbanator” after the 2001 series, and that is a name he has been referred by repeatedly over the past 7 years. But turbanator is clearly a name that is based on outward appearance linked to religion, and name-calling based on religion is unambiguously a Level 3 offence. Has any Aussie commentator ever been booked for calling Bhajji turbanator? I thought not. And that is racism.
None of this is innocent, especially not when the target of disciplinary action is Bhajji. Bhajji after all comes from a minority community in India. When he grew up playing gali cricket, he must have been the constant butt of jokes, because young Indian boys make fun of their Sikh friends as a matter of course. When he was a young child, his community was the victim of three days of coordinated, state-abetted genocide after the death of Indira Gandhi. Bhajji might be coarse, abrasive and unthinking, but he must know a thing or two about what racism really means, about the ridicule that comes with being a certain sort of minority in India, of the absolute fear and terror that can be associated with looking a certain way. It is particularly ironic that he should be lectured to by Mike Proctor, who played in a country and at a time of apartheid, and who has constantly been pitied by the likes of the Channel 9 commentary team for being “denied” a proper international career as a consequence.
In some ways, it is a good thing that the Australians are taking racism in cricket seriously. After three decades of dishing out racist abuse to others, it is time they recognized that such taunts are not on. It is a pity that they have only come to realize this after being subject to such abuse themselves, but that is no surprise. But they still haven’t gotten the fact that racism is not simply about abuse; it is the institutionalized and deeply ingrained sets of attitudes and practices that play out over and over again, decades after the formal end of colonialism. It is about umpires and referees that simply accept a man’s word for its whiteness; it is about commentators who constantly represent certain teams in certain ways, and other teams in other ways; it is about the hubris of a system that believes it can be pious and unctuous about racism while being completely blind to its own perpetuation of it.
One quick thought about response. I thought Kumble’s staying on the field and shaking the Aussies’ hands after the game was gracious and magnanimous, a true upholding of the spirit of a game that the Aussies have so severely tarnished over the past week. But at the same time I think of Gavaskar walking out at Melbourne in 1980; of Inzamam-ul-Haq refusing to take the field at the Oval in 2006 because he felt that his team’s honor had been tarnished; of Javed Miandad raising his bat against Dennis Lillee, showing finally that enough was enough. Kumble showed grace; but sometimes, asserting one’s dignity is not about grace, but about a willingness to spit back in the other person’s face. What I want to see now from the Indians is not grace, but defiance and contempt. I admire Kumble greatly, but right now, I want to see in him a Gavaskar, a Miandad, an Inzy, a Ranatunga. A Harbhajan Singh.
Muthiah Muralitharan was probably right when he called Shane Warne a miserable man. But he was only partly right. This whole Australian team – players and commentators alike – are miserable men.
On Walking, and Talking
So there you have it. Australia sneak a thriller in Sydney. I think the turning point was the dismissal of Dravid, c. Gilchrist b. Bucknor for a well-made 38, just as he was running into some form. Added to Bucknor’s fine unbeaten 132 in the first innings (through his alter ego Andrew Symonds), he should be feeling hard-done by at being overlooked for the man of the match award. What were the adjudicators thinking?
This post is not going to be a dispassionate analysis of the game. I am too angry for that. So I will not talk about Laxman’s sublime genius; Tendulkar’s brilliance; Kumble’s tenacity; or the accomplished but relatively ugly knocks of Hayden and Hussey. (I won’t even include Symonds’ knock in this list because most batsmen on either side could make 162 in 5 innings). I will not even talk about all the umpiring errors – the 4 times Symonds was given not out in his knock, first off a palpable nick, then off a stumping that the third umpire got wrong, then plumb lbw, then another stumping that the third umpire didn’t even get to get wrong; Ponting knocking the cover off the ball to Dhoni but being given not out; Hussey elegantly flicking behind to be given, yes, not out; Dravid being given caught behind with the bat miles from the ball; Ganguly given out caught because Ricky Ponting said so, a few overs after he claimed a catch for a ball that clearly hit the ground as he took it. I will not mention the odd and unexplained decision to extend play to 6.44 in the middle of proceedings, a farcical change of the rules that reminded one of the “officiating” in the World Cup final. Nor will I, god forbid, mention the fact that Australia’s 16-match winning streak has occurred on the back of the diabolical decision against Sangakkara by Rudi Koertzen, cutting short one of the great innings of the modern era, let alone the 8 to 10 diabolical decisions in this Test. (Shakoor Rana, take a hike. You have met your match in Bucknor, Koertzen and Benson). And absolutely will not mention the fact that had errors of this magnitude been committed by a Pakistani umpire, we wouldn’t have heard commentary about the “pressures of umpiring” or it “all evening out in the end”. (It’s a different matter that errors of this magnitude would never be committed by the two Pakistani umpires on the elite panel at the moment, Aleem Dar and Asad Rauf, two of the best in the business. But that’s a different story). And I absolutely will not commend Kumble’s absolutely scintillating, succinct and honest statement after the match that only one team played in the spirit of the game. No, all I want to talk about in this post is walking.
There is no question that Andrew Symonds nicked Ishant Sharma big time when he was on 30 in the 1st innings. Had he been given, as he should have, Australia would have been 193 for 7. Even if Lee and Hogg had played as well as they did, they would have ended up at around 325. With a deficit of 200, Ponting would have certainly not been able to declare when he did, and at the very least, a draw would have been secured. Evens out, my ass.
But that’s not what I’m interested in. I’m interested in the talk that went around it. I want, especially, to start with Symonds. He suggested at the end of his first innings (well, actually, his fifth innings, but we won’t go there) that while he clearly edged the ball, people make mistakes, umpires make mistakes as well, as this time the rub of the green went with him, so he won’t complain.
I will say just one thing to this, which is that I entirely agree with the bloke. I believe it’s the umpire’s prerogative to give a batsman out, just as it is a fielder’s prerogative to appeal in order for a dismissal to be given. It is true that there is a so-called “spirit” to the game that suggests that batsmen who nick the ball should walk. But given the sorts of decisions Ganguly and Tendulkar got in England last summer, it is clear that walking only when the umpire thinks you’re out makes sense; otherwise, you’re going to end up on the debit side of things. It is also true that the great batsmen do walk – Brian Lara, for instance, was always a walker. But we know that the Aussies are not truly great, merely bullies who pretend. Sort of like George W. Bush. So let’s classify them with the mere mortals that they are – they, unlike Lara, should only walk when they’re given.
Indeed, one of the finest innings I’ve seen was consequent to a non-walk, which is Nasser Hussein against India at Edgbaston in 1996. A youngster then, he tried square-cutting Kumble behind, only to get the biggest edge in the world to be given not out. He didn’t walk, and went on to get a 100 – which turned out not just to be a match-winning 100, but a series-winning one. In a series between equals, these little strokes of luck make a difference. When you claim to be a champion team, like the Aussies do, you’re not supposed to need incompetence on the part of the umpire and dishonesty on the part of the batsman to make that difference.
My problem is not with the walking (or lack thereof), but with the talking. For let us remember (unlike the Channel 9 commentary team, which is all I, based in the US, unfortunately have access to) that while there is nothing wrong with not walking, it is these Australians, merely three years ago, who made such a fuss about walking. Yes, indeed. The Final Frontier men. Those Under Gilchrist (because Punter, poor chap, had hurt his little finger). Or Thugs, as the acronym suggests. Who can forget (except Mark Taylor, Ian Healy, Michael Slater, Bill Lawry, Tony Greig and their ilk) that a mere three years ago, these very same Aussies were going on and on about how important it is to walk?!?
Yes, indeed. I remember (spluttering now with rage) that the Conquering of the Final Frontier in 2004 was marked by an enormous fuss that the Aussies created about how they were now suddenly Walkers. Gilchrist, leading by example, did it (and so too, as Mukul Kesavan points out in his wonderful Men in White, did the likes of Gillespie and Kasprowicz, albeit far more reluctantly. Let us remember that these last two were tailenders, Dizzy’s 200 in Bangladesh notwithstanding).
So fair enough. Symonds thinks, on January 2, 2008, that Life is a Sucker, But it Evens Out in the End. I would have had no problems with that, except that simply 3 years ago, these very same Aussies (not Symonds – he wasn’t good enough to be a part of the team) were prancing around in their Little Lord Fauntleroy costumes, talking about Walking as if they were in a Lipitor commercial. If you’re going to be a hard-headed professional, at least be honest about it, like Nasser Hussein.
The Aussies beat India, unfair and square. Regardless – they are a far better team. But we already knew that. My question is simple – do the Aussies really need only 19 wickets to win a game? Does the opposition really need 24 wickets to beat Australia? If (as Symonds claims) batsmen shouldn’t be upset when umpires give them four extra innings, then are we to understand that all the talk in 2004 was merely a PR exercise on the Aussies’ part, no more genuine that Monsanto’s claim that no, really, they are acting on behalf of Third World farmers?
It wasn’t just Symonds who benefited from the umpires’ largesse. The entire middle order, bar Michael Clarke, did. So Clarke, for good measure, refused to walk after cutting the ball straight to slip.
When I am less livid, I will write more cogently. But for me, this Aussie win has no meaning, and if the Indians had any self-respect, they would simply refuse to play the rest of this tour on grounds on incompetent and blatantly unfair officiating. Peter English has already made the point in his excellent and immediate analysis on cricinfo.
But the bigger point is this. Either Symonds, in his quote (and Ponting, Hussey, and Clarke, in their actions), are making a mockery of the principles that the Aussies set for themselves in the previous encounter between the two teams; or those principles were simply a sham, a publicity to the world that bear no relation to the actual attitudes of Australian players about fair play and honesty.
My really simple question, therefore, is the following – based on all the talk that the Aussies themselves have generated (talk, by the way, that truly great teams like the West Indians of the 1970s and 1980s never indulged in, because they believed in performance on the field):
Are the Aussies liars, or are they cheats?
This post is not going to be a dispassionate analysis of the game. I am too angry for that. So I will not talk about Laxman’s sublime genius; Tendulkar’s brilliance; Kumble’s tenacity; or the accomplished but relatively ugly knocks of Hayden and Hussey. (I won’t even include Symonds’ knock in this list because most batsmen on either side could make 162 in 5 innings). I will not even talk about all the umpiring errors – the 4 times Symonds was given not out in his knock, first off a palpable nick, then off a stumping that the third umpire got wrong, then plumb lbw, then another stumping that the third umpire didn’t even get to get wrong; Ponting knocking the cover off the ball to Dhoni but being given not out; Hussey elegantly flicking behind to be given, yes, not out; Dravid being given caught behind with the bat miles from the ball; Ganguly given out caught because Ricky Ponting said so, a few overs after he claimed a catch for a ball that clearly hit the ground as he took it. I will not mention the odd and unexplained decision to extend play to 6.44 in the middle of proceedings, a farcical change of the rules that reminded one of the “officiating” in the World Cup final. Nor will I, god forbid, mention the fact that Australia’s 16-match winning streak has occurred on the back of the diabolical decision against Sangakkara by Rudi Koertzen, cutting short one of the great innings of the modern era, let alone the 8 to 10 diabolical decisions in this Test. (Shakoor Rana, take a hike. You have met your match in Bucknor, Koertzen and Benson). And absolutely will not mention the fact that had errors of this magnitude been committed by a Pakistani umpire, we wouldn’t have heard commentary about the “pressures of umpiring” or it “all evening out in the end”. (It’s a different matter that errors of this magnitude would never be committed by the two Pakistani umpires on the elite panel at the moment, Aleem Dar and Asad Rauf, two of the best in the business. But that’s a different story). And I absolutely will not commend Kumble’s absolutely scintillating, succinct and honest statement after the match that only one team played in the spirit of the game. No, all I want to talk about in this post is walking.
There is no question that Andrew Symonds nicked Ishant Sharma big time when he was on 30 in the 1st innings. Had he been given, as he should have, Australia would have been 193 for 7. Even if Lee and Hogg had played as well as they did, they would have ended up at around 325. With a deficit of 200, Ponting would have certainly not been able to declare when he did, and at the very least, a draw would have been secured. Evens out, my ass.
But that’s not what I’m interested in. I’m interested in the talk that went around it. I want, especially, to start with Symonds. He suggested at the end of his first innings (well, actually, his fifth innings, but we won’t go there) that while he clearly edged the ball, people make mistakes, umpires make mistakes as well, as this time the rub of the green went with him, so he won’t complain.
I will say just one thing to this, which is that I entirely agree with the bloke. I believe it’s the umpire’s prerogative to give a batsman out, just as it is a fielder’s prerogative to appeal in order for a dismissal to be given. It is true that there is a so-called “spirit” to the game that suggests that batsmen who nick the ball should walk. But given the sorts of decisions Ganguly and Tendulkar got in England last summer, it is clear that walking only when the umpire thinks you’re out makes sense; otherwise, you’re going to end up on the debit side of things. It is also true that the great batsmen do walk – Brian Lara, for instance, was always a walker. But we know that the Aussies are not truly great, merely bullies who pretend. Sort of like George W. Bush. So let’s classify them with the mere mortals that they are – they, unlike Lara, should only walk when they’re given.
Indeed, one of the finest innings I’ve seen was consequent to a non-walk, which is Nasser Hussein against India at Edgbaston in 1996. A youngster then, he tried square-cutting Kumble behind, only to get the biggest edge in the world to be given not out. He didn’t walk, and went on to get a 100 – which turned out not just to be a match-winning 100, but a series-winning one. In a series between equals, these little strokes of luck make a difference. When you claim to be a champion team, like the Aussies do, you’re not supposed to need incompetence on the part of the umpire and dishonesty on the part of the batsman to make that difference.
My problem is not with the walking (or lack thereof), but with the talking. For let us remember (unlike the Channel 9 commentary team, which is all I, based in the US, unfortunately have access to) that while there is nothing wrong with not walking, it is these Australians, merely three years ago, who made such a fuss about walking. Yes, indeed. The Final Frontier men. Those Under Gilchrist (because Punter, poor chap, had hurt his little finger). Or Thugs, as the acronym suggests. Who can forget (except Mark Taylor, Ian Healy, Michael Slater, Bill Lawry, Tony Greig and their ilk) that a mere three years ago, these very same Aussies were going on and on about how important it is to walk?!?
Yes, indeed. I remember (spluttering now with rage) that the Conquering of the Final Frontier in 2004 was marked by an enormous fuss that the Aussies created about how they were now suddenly Walkers. Gilchrist, leading by example, did it (and so too, as Mukul Kesavan points out in his wonderful Men in White, did the likes of Gillespie and Kasprowicz, albeit far more reluctantly. Let us remember that these last two were tailenders, Dizzy’s 200 in Bangladesh notwithstanding).
So fair enough. Symonds thinks, on January 2, 2008, that Life is a Sucker, But it Evens Out in the End. I would have had no problems with that, except that simply 3 years ago, these very same Aussies (not Symonds – he wasn’t good enough to be a part of the team) were prancing around in their Little Lord Fauntleroy costumes, talking about Walking as if they were in a Lipitor commercial. If you’re going to be a hard-headed professional, at least be honest about it, like Nasser Hussein.
The Aussies beat India, unfair and square. Regardless – they are a far better team. But we already knew that. My question is simple – do the Aussies really need only 19 wickets to win a game? Does the opposition really need 24 wickets to beat Australia? If (as Symonds claims) batsmen shouldn’t be upset when umpires give them four extra innings, then are we to understand that all the talk in 2004 was merely a PR exercise on the Aussies’ part, no more genuine that Monsanto’s claim that no, really, they are acting on behalf of Third World farmers?
It wasn’t just Symonds who benefited from the umpires’ largesse. The entire middle order, bar Michael Clarke, did. So Clarke, for good measure, refused to walk after cutting the ball straight to slip.
When I am less livid, I will write more cogently. But for me, this Aussie win has no meaning, and if the Indians had any self-respect, they would simply refuse to play the rest of this tour on grounds on incompetent and blatantly unfair officiating. Peter English has already made the point in his excellent and immediate analysis on cricinfo.
But the bigger point is this. Either Symonds, in his quote (and Ponting, Hussey, and Clarke, in their actions), are making a mockery of the principles that the Aussies set for themselves in the previous encounter between the two teams; or those principles were simply a sham, a publicity to the world that bear no relation to the actual attitudes of Australian players about fair play and honesty.
My really simple question, therefore, is the following – based on all the talk that the Aussies themselves have generated (talk, by the way, that truly great teams like the West Indians of the 1970s and 1980s never indulged in, because they believed in performance on the field):
Are the Aussies liars, or are they cheats?
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