Blog Posts by Venkat Ananth

In the rather chilly English summer of 2009, I forced myself to borrow a book from my University library, a book that I thought would be good to carry around and read in the parks, a book that in many ways was a scathing account of a little known Zimbabwean coach who was largely responsible for the resurgence of English cricket. Little did I know that Duncan Fletcher, the author of Behind the Shades would be the man to fill Gary Kirsten's massive boots as India's next cricket coach.

Today, the BCCI, in it's own wisdom has opted to entrust the fortunes of the national team to Duncan Fletcher for a period of two years, a decision, I am honestly yet to come to terms with. My initial thoughts say this isn't particularly a bad appointment, for Fletcher's credentials as an international coach are nothing short of first-class. But from whatever little I know about him, largely thanks to that book, this may not be the best decision either.

Like many of you, I am equally ambiguous.

It's only three weeks ago that Indian cricket witnessed something special, a triumph that eventually embodied the marvelous culmination of "blood, sweat and tears" as an advertisement copy puts it, that moment of glory, that has somehow been hijacked by a tournament (the Indian Premier League), lamentably if I could add, which is largely a caricature of all things cricket. Equally, if ever the chieftains of Indian cricket had an appropriate time to script a blueprint or a roadmap, whichever way you like, for how they'd like to see the team progress in the next two-four years, I think it is now. We also need to understand that if ever there was a time to recognize and possibly implement, that inevitable word i.e. "transition" that might in course of days to come become the buzzword in Indian cricket.

Some of us might be inclined to assume that transition equals rebuilding, and perhaps rightly so, but as I understand it, and pardon me for some jargons here, transition has more to do

On March 22nd, the eve of the first semi-final between New Zealand and Sri Lanka, I made that phone call to Colombo, to discuss events that have unfolded in the past two days - chaos, change and a supposed overhaul that Sri Lanka cricket has chosen to undertake. The man on the other side was a cricket writer ever so dedicated that even at 75, he sacrificed time with his wife on the outskirts of Colombo, Moratuwa to be precise, to fulfill his eternal passion. I promised him to return a call once the World Cup was done and dusted with, the frenzy had settled, a leisurely phone call to catch up on lost days with him. That, would sadly, be my last call to Trevor "Chesters" Chesterfield, for I learnt this afternoon that he was no more, and his loss, yet to sink in personally. A loss, that should resonate with a majority of our clique, for we've lost a man who lived for the game we all love the most, passionate as ever and importantly, a romantic.

My first encounter with Chesters was in

I wasn't born in 1983. As an Indian, I never knew what winning a World Cup was like, pretty much like most of you, I guess. Now that I know what it feels like, given that I was at the Wankhede on April 2, let me also say, it's not yet sunk in. Yes, I went there to cheer for Sri Lanka (not because of a particular hate for the Indian cricket team, but a love affair that began somewhere with the romance of 1996) but came back home as a proud Indian, emotional as ever, witness to one of Indian cricket's tryst with history. Yes, I might have been vocally critical of this Indian team in my previous columns, but this was a win that transcended the best of cricketing skills on a stage which was elephantine, and had a symbolism of its own — the final word in the emergence of a new cricketing order in world cricket.

 
To witness that was nothing short of special, and even as I write this, I am struggling for words to describe that feeling. And, as a responsible and a hungry columnist, I have no

Over the past few days, there was an appreciable amount of
anxiety as to who India would encounter in the quarterfinals of the World Cup,
with all possible scenarios coming through, three opponents in question -
Australia, Sri Lanka and New Zealand. Now, it's formal - Australia at Ahmedabad
on Thursday. Wellofcourse, it was important for the Indian lads to sign-off the
preliminary group stages by seeing off the West Indies at Chennai, but somehow
the rather disturbing takeaway from the game was it typified India's campaign
in the tournament so far - unconvincing but mighty effective. Improvement from
the previous excursions were scarce, with familiar deficiencies popping out
time and again, which still is a sign of concern, given the nature of the
format they await next - a knockout. Is Australia a good deal, some of you
might ask? I say, a great bargain and a fantastic opportunity to assert their
title credentials by knocking the defending champions out. And, going with the
popular

Let's put it bluntly - India's World Cup campaign is in a bit of a disarray and like I wrote in my previous column, the wafer-thin potential of this bowling attack, it's design is just not looking good enough to take the team through the big moments. Three games since the tie against England, India look like a side who have refused to learn from their apparent mistakes and over the five matches they've played, which by the way includes a couple of associate nations, they've looked as unconvincing as any pre-tournament favourites have ever looked. Their bowling looked like an obvious weakness, but injudicious batting or as the captain put, "playing for the crowd" (whatever it means) meant, potential didn't translate into performance and so on and so forth. For an Indian fan, the comforting news is that the knockouts are just a game away, and importantly the discomforting bit, there is no visible sign of improvement - tactically or otherwise and perhaps critically, India still don't know

It's rather bizarre when the captain of the national team walks into a press conference after a game and blames the conditions on the back of one of the most clueless bowling and fielding displays in recent memory.

In a way, that statement sums up the situation: India's problems lie with the bowling and fielding but there is little or nothing that the captain can do about it (he in fact admitted in that same presser that there was nothing he could do about the fielding), so the only thing left really is to blame the conditions.

The batting, mercifully, seems to be in top form with two near-perfect performances in Mirpur and Bangalore, but against that, a bowling unit that could not defend 338 runs under lights against an England team coming off a 6-1 defeat and with a dismal track record in Indian conditions does not augur well for India's prospects in this Cup.

Restrict or dismiss?

One of the most interesting things about this Indian bowling attack is that it is not designed

In a chilly English summer of 2009, a late night discussion with one of my Sri Lankan friends was all about the 1996 World Cup, and how the island nation and it's cricketers wrote one of the most surreal sporting stories of all time. The conversation moved towards the final, and my mate made one of the most telling statements on the topic. He said, "If Asanka Gurusinha was an Indian, he'd now be worshipped as 'God' or celebrated as a national treasure." I asked him why, and he quipped, "'Gura' (as he's popularly known in Sri Lanka) is a forgotten hero, machang. People in our country see more value in Aravinda, Sanath aiya and even Arjuna aiya". I felt a touch cheated by that statement, given that Gurusinha played one of the most important innings in Sri Lankan cricket history on March 17th at Lahore, yet never got the same recognition as his peers did, for reasons I will elaborate upon. Indeed, Gura was never in the same league as his erstwhile colleagues in Aravinda or even