The Lost Art Form

Batting in cricket is instinctual. Good batsmen are reflexively responsive to their instincts and great batsmen learn to discipline these reflexes. Fielding is lot like batting. The sharper the reflexes, greater is the resultant adrenaline rush among the men who challenge you. Both of these skills have been executed, action replayed and written about for them to be elevated to an individual art form in a team game. Good and great batsmen and fielders keep getting replaced on the field. The skill is mastered, disciplined and the art form continues to flourish.

Much like art post the renaissance era, there is an art form which is languishing. Much like the art world, there are few occasional names which cause an enthusiastic flutter of nostalgic name dropping. But it soon passes off like a fad rather than a prolonged legacy. Bowling, six balls an over.  

Batting is like playing chess, you play the situation. Fielding is like playing Scotland Yard.

Bowling is like playing a mutant game of Texas No Hold’em poker, chess and medieval style jousting. One has to play with the man opposite you and the situation. The loneliest position on the vast cricket field is not that of Long – on/off or third man next to the ropes. It is inside the bowler’s mind.

A lot is written and explained about the pitch and how it would behave. And these are said in relation with respect to the knights wielding the wooden swords taking guard on the barren patch of field. Lot like how group of friends discuss their mate’s new girlfriend in his absence and how if she will fit in with the whole group. Predictions and verdicts are passed on if the girl will make or break the group.

The story of David Vs Goliath is an allegorical tale of a bowler against a good/great batsman. For a bowler, the relationship is with the ball. It is not dependant on how flat the pitch is. It is not dependant on how green the pitch is. It is not dependant on what the scorecard reads. It is what he feels when he holds the ball in his hand. Does it feel light yet solid? Does it feel heavy and unwieldy?

Battles are waged between armies but they are won by warriors. There are games which expound the theory of playing like a team. Games like football, hockey and basketball to name a few team sports. But no game and no warrior explains the theory of warriors winning battles and wars than a maniac running down, ill armed with a small rotund object as offence and defense against a well protected knight wielding a sword.

The odds are never in favor of the bowler.

And I suppose this is what defines one’s need to be a bowler. The belief that the underdog can win. The stubborn belief that the odds don’t matter, the belief that you can outsmart the crowd favorite and earn respect while doing so.

As a bowler I have loved charging down the pitch and letting the batsman know exactly what I think of him. As a bowler, I have loved smiling at the batsman knowingly, knowing that I have outfoxed him, knowing that he is not a match, knowing that despite the odds stacked against me are not enough to make the contest unfair or uneven. I love bowlers who do the same and follow it up with the goods. This is not something to be confused with aggression. This is a sadistic pleasure derived in being a masochist. Though, to be honest, I have hated the same behavior in a bowler when I have been batting.

A batsman is a reactionary agent. A bowler is the proactive catalyst. There were some great bowlers who understood the mental aspect of the game. Who elevated the skill of hurling a ball through air into an art form. People like Akram, Murli, Warne, Donald, Dominic Cork, Pat Symcox, Chris Harris to name just a few (especially the ones I grew up watching). These people were not the most exceptional as all round players. But when the ball was handed to them, it was a sheer joy of watching them fox the batsman with guile and skill. Dale Steyn, Suniel Narine and Wayne Parnell are few bowlers who exhibit the trait which makes watching them as delightful pleasure.

I fear that the bowlers, the warriors, the proactive catalyst will forget street style cricket of mano-a-mano duels and start thinking like reactionary agents. That they will start worrying about the pitch, the score and the weather conditions. That they will forget about their relationship with the ball. I fear the art form will cease to be recognized as that, an art form.

I fear that I will no longer be interested in watching cricket.