The circus that came to town (11 November 1998)
From Dale Carnegie's dilly-dallying under the sun, cricket today has been reduced to but a wonder commodity
11-Nov-1998
11 November 1998
The circus that came to town
By Nizamuddin Ahmed
From Dale Carnegie's dilly-dallying under the sun, cricket today has
been reduced to but a wonder commodity. With every item record
worthy, from a pre-lunch century to number of sixes hit over extra
cover, the game proved ideal for television but not before the
arrival of telecommunications satellite and computers. A happy
marriage then of technology and tradition, and top players were
finding it harder to obtain even Casual Leave.
As with any saleable commodity, a group of ex-cricketers, business
magnates, telecommunication giants, marketing dons and some
none-the-wise suckers emerged to make cricket an occupation. Without
even ICC boss Dalmiya's globalisation scheme put into actuality,
there is so much cricket, that the market today is virtually flooded.
Antagonists consider it a fortuitous boon that the game is till now
not possible indoors.
There is so much at stake and so less time (reminds you of 'time is
money') that not even a sixty-day deluge was convincing enough to
deter the financially interested. Bangabandhu Stadium, no less, was
in October the venue of the world cricket haat.
The tournament was for several reasons good for us. That Dhaka is a
city which has a stadium fit for the giants of the game is now common
knowledge in the world's cricketing circle, however restricted may be
it's radius. That we can fill our stadium and make three Mexican
waves every half-hour, whatever the state of the game. That we can
jump and shout for any Tom, Dick and Harry; no matter whose wickets
have been rattled, or who has battered a bowler, or who has bruised
his knee to save a single for another country. Yes! Let it be known
that Banglaees love their cricket.
That our very capable Board can work on such a very wide canvas. That
we can play extremely good hosts. This is being discussed in every
living room from Cambridge to Cape Town, in every kitchen from
Manchester to Matamoros; frankly, I don't know where that is. Such
has been our accommodating role in the nine-nation Wills
International Cup that it reminds me of the travelling circus that
moves from one town to another. The lions roar, the elephants stand
on a rubber ball, the clowns put on big noses; and the townspeople
pay to cheer them on. Even our own goat was not allowed on to the
ring. Come the morning after, the circus moved out of town.
Like any business arrangement, the books have to be seen when the
dust has settled. Correct me if I am wrong, the figures look
something like this. From the Wills at Dhaka, we were so willing that
ICC has funnelled out something between seventy-five to a hundred
crore Taka. BCB has gained about six to seven crore from the money
you and I paid at the gates. NSC has invested about fifteen crore in
installations at and development of the Bangabandhu. And there was
not even a whimper from Adhunik or other anti-smoking campaigners.
The Bangladesh cricketers were not considered qualified to play even
one match, although five Test-playing teams left after playing only
one match. So, where was the ignominy? We were told that the Test
greats have no time and an extra match involving hosts Bangladesh was
not on the card. The Zimbabweans and the English tanned in our sun
for full four to five days before getting into the Wills action. In
fact, we did play a very honourable match with the English at the
BKSP. Could not that game have been included in the 'untouchable'
Wills?
Did we have a bad deal? To a great extent, yes. Some say, otherwise
ICC and its business interests would go elsewhere. Fair enough. But
when the circus did arrive in town, could we not at least impress
upon the Council for greater Bangladeshi participation?
Our cricketers were ignored, our umpires were humiliated, our
journalists were restricted, and our organisers were made to stoop.
ICC, so we were told, even dictated the manner in which the
hospitality boxes were to be bought and sold.
Arrangements were not made for the national cricketers, past and
present, to watch the circus and learn a few tricks. Need we remind
the BCB that they exist for the cricketers?
Local umpires, because of lack of international experience so I
assume, were awarded the distinction of carrying white balls to and
from the umpires. They were appropriately dressed to match the balls
when they are new and used, white and black. Would it have cost the
BCB a fortune to provide them with what Shepherd and Bucknor were
wearing? Would it have been that serious a risk to allow our umpires
to officiate at least in one match? If it sound like I am pleading,
it is because I am. BCB should know more than I that even Dickie Bird
had his first game. If we do not have faith in our umpires at this
stage, how on earth is the BCB even dreaming of Test status, how the
heck shall they live up with their one-day status?
The ICC has not done anything illegal and neither has the BCB in
terms of the finances involved, because a deal was signed. As it was
the first time, we can look upon BCB's faux pas with understanding
and sympathy. We are all learning. We are all trying to help.
Perhaps understandable to some extent that we had to do everything to
bring the circus to town. To prove a point, our love for cricket.
That our crowd is the best and the most learned in the world. But,
the next time, BCB should make all contracts with ICC and others
taking into consideration local interests, players, umpires and
organisers. The next time BCB should make Bangladesh appear as a
sovereign nation. Because we are.
Source :: The Bangladesh Daily Star (https://www.dailystarnews.com)