The Rise and Fall of Circumspect Batting with observations on a one-off revival

The last few years there have been many players coming in and out of the Pakistani cricket team. Two years back, Azhar Ali was one of them, part of a possible plan to transition the middle order from the aged warriors like Mohammad Yousuf, Younis Khan and Misbal-ul-Haq. He made his debut in 2010 in the “home” series versus Australia (Home here meant the Lord’s). He made 16 and 42 with Australia winning by 150 runs. That was the test series after which Shahid Afridi was sacked as captain. Also the experiment with leaving out the three old men was over. His next captain was Salman Butt. And Mohammad Yousuf was brought in for the next series against England.

In between all the no balls and other spot fixes, that series had its share of some good performances. Notably Azhar Ali’s 92* in the first innings of the 3rd Test at the Oval which Pakistan won by 4 wickets. Ironically the player of the match was Mohammad Amir. I remember seeing that match and what I can recall was Azhar’s composure as he played the English bowlers in their home conditions. When you contrast with the way the Indians played in the last series in England, the appreciation for Azhar Ali really goes up. In the previous two tests, he was struggling to score. However, this innings truly unveiled the talent especially the calm powerful but elegant hitting during the last wicket partnership with Asif.

Then we come to the third test v Eng at Dubai. Pakistan all out for 99. The bowlers bring the game back by dismissing England for 141. What was now required was for Pakistan to bat for at least two days and put up a score which would take the game completely out of reach for England. Given that the Englishmen were in no state to take one more shot at the spinners, even a 4th innings target of 300 was an unbeatable target to set. Azhar Ali came in the 11th over with the score at 28/2. He was finally out in the 150th over with the score at 363/9. In between, in almost 9 hours and having consumed 442 balls, he had scored 157.

It was slow batting but not boring.

At times during Azhar Ali’s match-winning, second-innings 157 for Pakistan against England in Dubai there was a distinct whiff of the past. Over eight hours and 53 minutes he was a model of diligent restraint, each patiently eked-out run taking the sap out of the opposition players’ legs and painstakingly laying the foundations to set an unattainable victory target. On the third morning, after losing Younis Khan, Azhar’s stonewalling majesty became quite hypnotic, described by my colleague Rob Smyth as a knock of “deviant beauty”, but one’s appreciation was rarely blunted by the monotony of his watchful defence.

The art of risk-averse, slow batting has recently been called into service most during defiant rearguard actions to stave off defeat. Yet here was a batsman prepared to mobilise its virtues to lay a siege rather than repel one. [the guardian]

In the last one year, those of us who have been following test cricket would have noticed a) test matches finishing in 3-4 days b) Teams collapsing for less than 100 c) Teams folding up in 3 sessions or less d) Batsmen not staying in the crease for more than 20 overs. (Okay the last one is an exaggeration).

In a single innings, Azhar faced more deliveries than Alistair Cook faced in the entire series. More importantly, he batted 533 minutes, almost 9 hours, one and half days, more than the full Indian team in each of the eight innings in England and in Australia.

Azhar’s innings was another triumph of character, resilience and technique and, above all, and a satisfying reminder in the era of dizzying run rates that dead bat does not have to equal deadbeat. [the guardian]

To see such an innings given the context of the game and to see a young man just 2 years into test cricket pull it off is itself a reason to reinforce one’s belief in test cricket as the most evocative format of the game. The game needs more of such innings not just from senior pros like Younis Khan or Ricky Ponting but from the younger batsmen who have grown up playing multiple forms of the game and can be at times quite muddled about their batting approach.

 

 

 

A Good Example for Air India

The Hungarian national airline Malev closed down. In an advisory to passengers, they write:

Dear Passengers
Concerning your travel, we suggest that you ask other airlines about their offers or, if possible, you choose an alternative method of transport.

The reasons for closure – bankruptcy. The last day of the airline, as described in this post, is quite evocative. And the outpouring of nostalgia and support seems quite interesting. But after 60+ years of service, that is bound to happen

Closer home, maybe Air India which is in a similar financial state can regain its icon status by significantly cutting down or even closing down. And starting afresh in a new form, new model, new strategy.

Will its closure evoke the same responses? My living memory tells me yes: the airlift of people stuck in Kuwait during the Iraqi invasion (135,000+ people, over 450 flights, almost 14 flights a day, August 1990) , the regular Hajj flights, the flights to the remotest of areas like the North East, the Maharaja, the biriyani from the Taj catering service, the iconic Air India building in Mumbai, etc. It would also mean the end of the Air India football team, currently 9th in the I-League.

 

Amitava Ghosh on the “tamasha” literary festivals

A frequently heard argument in favour of book festivals is that they provide a venue for writers to meet the reading public. Although appealing, this argument is based on a flawed premise in that it assumes that attendance is equivalent to approbation.

This, however, according to Ghosh, is not really worth it.

Through the last century, the relationship between readers and writers was largely impersonal. The reader related in the first instance to a book, not to its writer; and writers, for their part, did not confront their audience directly in the manner of musicians, singers, actors and so on. This was, I think, one of the reasons why writers were able to take greater risks in hurling defiance at society at large.

The situation has changed dramatically in recent years. The internet, as I have good reason to know, has made it possible to subject writers to great pressure through mass-mailing campaigns. Face-to-face encounters add yet another dimension to this: to be called upon constantly to provide answers is inevitably to become answerable. If this process continues unchecked, its impact on the freedom of thought and expression may be greater than any explicit policy of repression.

The old, impersonal relationship was, in other words, also a form of protection, a first line of defence, not merely within public spaces but also within the writer’s own head.

Makes sense.

Despite the deployment of enormous resources neither Denmark nor Holland were able to prevent attacks upon artists under threat; in the US a woman who put up a website that was offensive to a religious group was quickly forced to go underground. These countries are heavily and efficiently policed: what are the chances that a country like India would be able to provide effective protection?

Whether the threats to the Jaipur festival were invented or real I am in no position to judge. But one has only to open a newspaper to know that certain situations in India are inherently combustible. What then would it have taken to ensure order in Jaipur and Kolkata? One battalion? Two? Or should festivals now invest in creating private security forces in the manner of mining companies? And what would this say about the relationship between writers and the public?