23 August, 2000

A senior Indian cricketer has an experience to narrate, of his stint in English county cricket (and no, this is not a story of one of the three players active on the English circuit this season).

He talked of the grind involved in playing cricket on a daily basis, sans let up. And of how, since he was a paid professional, he felt duty-bound to give of his best, in every single game (come to think of it, is there a lesson in here for the Board? Would it make sense for the board to convert our players into professionals, put them on salaries, and by that expedient, ensure an enforceable standard of performance?).

So, says this player, they were getting into the season's halfway mark, when the county skipper asked him, very politely, if he could spare some time. The player in question was quite struck by the way it was done -- in his experience, captains ordered, they never requested, politely or otherwise.

Anyways, the player and captain got together for a chat. And straight off the bat, the captain asked the player how he was feeling, physically and otherwise. Worried that perhaps his efforts weren't satisfactory, the player said something non-committal. At which the captain said, let me lay it on the line -- we need you refreshed and at your very best towards the end of the season. But we CAN afford to give you a bit of a breather now -- the question is, do you need one? And if yes, would you prefer to go easy in the next two, three games, or skip two games altogether and take a brief holiday, and come back refreshed?

Still not sure if he could take such liberties, the player opted for missing a couple of games. And enjoyed a short holiday. And returned, and bowled his heart out for the county for the remainder of the season.

Moral of the story? As the player himself tells it, in all his time with the Indian team, he had played under three or four different captains. Never, not once, had a single one of them come up to him and asked about his wellbeing. Never had an Indian captain asked him what it would take to keep him performing at his best. Never had the least concern been shown for his state of health and mind.

There have, he says, been times when he played under par. When he felt incapable of producing. Times when a more sympathetic handling would have enabled him to get a second wind, and come back refreshed and firing.

He never got the chance to get that second wind. Instead, he went on. And on. Underperforming, and knowing he was going through the motions, yet unable to do anything about it.

He could, you might say, have asked for a break. But given the Indian cricketing dispensation, that is suicidal -- the board is not geared to understand such a necessity. Thus, such a request is viewed as malingering -- and the offending player, on returning refreshed, might well find himself out of the side for an extended spell. To teach him a lesson, as it were.

The next time we crib about our underachievers, we need to think of what this player said. We need to realise that cricket is not merely a matter of eleven blokes trotting out into the field and strutting their stuff. There is a certain element of man management involved -- and that is a department we are completely clueless about?

A pyramidal structure of responsibility could work wonders. Thus -- it would be the BCCI's responsibility to ensure that the man they pick to lead India -- and to coach India, come to think of it -- has skills that extend beyond batting and bowling. In the event the best candidate does not have these skills, it would be the BCCI's responsibility to help him acquire these skills, by putting him in touch with professionals in the field.

And from then on, it would be the captain's -- and the coach's -- responsibility to get the best out of his men.

It all sounds so simple. And yet, history teaches us that the simplest concepts are the very ones that our board finds the most difficult to grasp.

Prem

Mail Cricket Editor