World Cup: When the crowd takes sides

One of the heartening features of this World Cup has been the total absence of ‘crowd trouble’. No riotous scenes, no bottle-throwing, no stone-pelting. By those standards, the crowd-control measures were obviously successful. But must we be satisfied with such basic requirements? Should Indian crowds not be required to pass the ‘sporting crowd’ test also?

On that count, there is little doubt that there have been drastic changes in the behaviour of cricket crowds over the years. Consider, for instance, what happened at the end of the India-Australia quarterfinal at Ahmedabad.

At the post-match presentation, when Ravi Shastri requested the Australia captain Ricky Ponting to come up on stage, I thought the crowd’s immediate reaction was not ‘on’: what sounded like a low-key hum of ‘boos’ and a muted murmur of ‘catcalls’ floating through the television set!

Here was one of the game’s modern greats, who had just completed a fighting century — as it happened, for the losing side — in what was almost certainly his last World Cup match. Surely, he deserved better. At the very least, a round of appreciative applause. True, Ponting, the captain, would not win a ‘Mr Popularity’ contest in India. Many have not pardoned him for what is widely perceived as his occasional crossing of the thin line between ‘gamesmanship’ and ‘cheating’, especially, in the infamous Sydney Test some years ago.

A sporting crowd would probably have overlooked his failings and given him a worthy ODI farewell. After all, many obits or ‘retirement-day’ tributes are known to gloss over a person’s unpopular traits. And Ahmedabad was nothing if not Ponting’s World Cup ‘retirement’.

Has the phrase ‘sporting crowd’ now become a contradiction in terms?

In an earlier cricketing era, when India was a Test and ODI minnow, Indian crowds readily applauded great performances by players in opposing teams. Perhaps that was because there was so little to cheer for the home team then. Times have changed dramatically. The Indian crowd has become more partisan — to the point where even the finest stroke or an outstanding bowling or fielding performance by someone in the opposition is met with a deafening, disapproving silence, rather than thunderous applause and appreciation, as in the past.

True, it is that crowds have moved on from the genteel ‘tea-and-cucumber-sandwiches’ Saturday afternoon spectators sprawling on the lawns on the periphery of the boundary rope. True it is, too, that facilities for stand-spectators in India, though much improved, are still abysmal in terms of seat-comfort, seat-reservations (more appropriately, perhaps, day-long ‘seat-preservation’) and toilet facilities. A spectator compelled to sit for about eight hours in the same spot without leaving his seat for fear of losing it, must find ways to make his ticket-purchase worthwhile by amusing himself and others around him and by working himself up into a frenzy when India does well and withdrawing into stunned silence —and more — when India does badly.

One facet of crowd behaviour, however, has remained constant. Remember what the dour Yorkshireman said to the Lancastrian many years ago during a ‘Roses’ match? Whilst play was on, the Lancastrian went to the loo, reserving his place by keeping his cap on the seat. When he returned, he found a big, burly Yorkshireman occupying his seat. When the Lancastrian protested, and wanted to reclaim his seat, stating that he had specifically reserved it by leaving his cap there, he was met with this reply: “in these parts, Sonny, it’s bums that reserve seats, not hats!” Nothing’s changed in that regard — it’s a scene re-enacted regularly even today!

Loud ‘boos’ and catcalls are legitimate crowd tools to show displeasure with substandard performances. The point is that these tools cannot — or should not — be used against opposing players only because they happen to be in the opposing team. A spectacular cover-drive is a pleasurable sight worthy of appreciation irrespective of who has played it. This, regrettably, is what Indian crowds are increasingly forgetting. Brazen jingoism is galling.

The argument that Australian crowds are also hideously insulting to overseas players, especially those from South Asia, does not justify the behaviour of their Indian counterparts. Two wrongs have never made a right! And however distasteful the conduct of crowds Down Under to players of the calibre of Muralitharan and Harbhajan, it is always disappointing to see Indian crowds emulating such unacceptable boorish conduct.

Time was when crowd humour added considerably to the ‘romance’ of the game. Remember ‘Yabba’ at the famed Sydney Hill? Ken MacKay, one of Australia’s most obdurately stubborn batsmen, had spent several hours at the crease defending everything with a defensive prod, ball after ball, on a scorching hot Test Match afternoon without a single scoring shot. When he called for a glass of water on the field, wiping away his sweat, a loud booming voice was heard over the din of the crowd. It was Yabba, yelling: “Don’t worry, mate, yer’ll never die of a stroke!”

Passionate, colourful crowds still add immensely to the match atmosphere. Cricket would not be the same without such crowds. At the same time, it’s time we recognised the need for striking a balance between fervour and colour and passionate involvement on the one hand and blatant, often unsporting partisanship, bordering on the jingoistic, on the other. It is imperative to adopt measures to prevent cricket crowds from being spoken of in the same breath as say, football’s notorious hooliganistic spectators.

This is important from one other angle as well: if unsporting crowd behaviour at the highest level of the game (Test/ODI/T-20) becomes the norm, it will percolate down to school and club level matches, making our maidans and fields potential war-zones.

It is natural for a spectator to root for his ‘home’ team. Home crowd support is a charming, acceptable aspect. Yet, cricket, however commercialised, still remains a sport, an art form. Appreciation of a good performance must be universal, transcending narrow national or team boundaries. The genuine cricket lover has always faced this dilemma: he’d love to see an outstanding performance by a great player on the opposing side and at the same time, he’d want his own team to win. Perhaps, the best solution is the prayer recited by a young England fan over a century ago, on one of Australia’s Ashes tours to England at the turn of the last century. The young fan desperately wanted to see the incomparable Victor Trumper of Australia get a big score. Yet, he naturally wanted England to win. So he prayed: “Please God, let Victor Trumper score a century today — out of an Australian all out total of 110!”

Amen.

— Fredun E De Vitre has been a cricket commentator and columnist for the past four decades. He is also the author of the book 'Willow Tales — the Lighter Side of Indian Cricket’. His present professional involvement as a lawyer has not diminished his passion for the game of cricket