Jhakas | Sanjay Jha
In one simple word - India were stunned at Trinidad. The Boys in Green thrashed with determined ruthlessness the Men in Blue.
Not too far away in Kingston, Jamaica, Pakistan was being humbled into abysmal submission against a country known more for beer-guzzling, rugby and football, with several of their prime players, playing cricket in between other professional appointments in quaint bars even as they read about a billion dollar valuation of Indian cricket and the bullion express. Continue reading below
By the time you read this article, I am sure most of would have swallowed the bitter realization that unless India resurrects itself with a fierce, doughty determination, BCCI President Sharad Pawar will be using his official contacts to get the Indian team priority return tickets on British Airways next week-end.
It will be silly to castigate the Men in Blue. Technically, they are not knocked out just yet; so writing about their catastrophic collapse and virtual knock-out serves little purpose. We have to quickly assess their future matches and likely threats. Strangely, their biggest enemy is their own mental paradigm.
Against Bangladesh, they started off with characteristic heavy-feet; obvious trepidation and acute nervousness, and the mighty weight of being considered “ stellar favourites” , and the enormous expectations back home. We Indians are traditionally slow starters, usually self-doubt invades us for no apparent reason.
It is just in our DNA only. Rahul Dravid, after years of solid international experience, should have sensed that. With the wicket being an unknown devil, and the Indian muscles stiffening with match nerves in the first big outing after two weeks of surfing, swimming and sight-seeing, bowling after winning the toss would have made horse sense.
For one, you get warmed up both mentally and physically, and secondly, isn’t Indian batting our true mine strength?
I don’t want to get into details, but much as Bangladesh bowled brilliantly (M Martaza , Syed Rasel, M Rafique and A Razzak all being remarkably focused) and fielded with magnificent energy, the truth is that Indian batsmen inexplicably played within themselves. It was a pure mental roadblock. Nerves!
I have said so consistently in all my columns and occasional TV appearances, that India is usually a casual and often certain victim of woeful mental toughness, and in crisis situations , contrary to popular human reaction, it brings out the worst in us. Just when they had struggled laboriously to get out of a black hole to reach 157 for 4 , in a ludicrous act of self-destruction they were 159 for 9. It was unalloyed senselessness which would have even annoyed Johnny Lever.
Thereafter, when bowling, it looked as if we were waiting for divine intervention and some good fortune to create the much-needed breakthroughs.
The fielding was not just lackluster, it was soaked in the syrup of low confidence. Forget a fight-back, folks. But as youth model and Bangladesh opener T Iqbal showed there was nothing Lord Voldermort devilish about the wicket.
We had retired, resigned and retreated far too early. We did nothing different. No game plan. No Plan B. Because we were still living in the dark memories of the early morning session.
The body language reflected that, even as a billion people genuinely believed that the tiny score of 191 was still defensible !
Finally, a convincing victory by 5 wickets against the world’s greatest titans (between them S Tendulkar, S Ganguly and R Dravid have amassed over 35000 runs in ODI cricket alone), outplaying them with extraordinary panache.
So wherein lay the difference? Nerves ! Bangladesh played hard-ball, savored their moment in the sun, and were not fearful of losing. It was about enjoying the thrill of taking on an in-form India.
India did not play to win; it played to protect it’s haloed reputation.
Against Bermuda, India should not worry about their hyped image etc etc or the disastrous experiment at Port-of-Spain. And they should play that match as if it is the World Cup final; no quarter given, no inch spared. Play tough.
The Irish Bailey cream that the Pakistanis tasted yesterday must have seemed like sour cream with soya sauce to coach Bob Woolmer, and should serve as a timely reminder during Indian meal-time itself. No post-dinner liqueurs from the Bermuda Triangle.
Vanquish them, but do so without being either fearful or cocky, because in a sport you never underestimate your opponent . Never ! Never again, for sure!
Let’s back the boys. Sometimes these early knocks are rude reminders of the treacherous waters to traverse ahead to retrieve the fabled ark. But you have to learn your lessons quick.
If Dravid and the Indian boys are smart blokes, they can actually use this humiliating rout to make drastic amends. In the mind. Upsets happen all the time , after all, don’t they? George Bush wins a reelection, Roger Federer is thrashed by Guillermo Canas, Italy butts out famed opposition in World cup football, and Indian writer Kiran Desai wins a Booker.
And Ireland brings to a tragic end the World Cup aspirations of the once-incredibly talented Pakistanis, squabbling away to bitter exhaustion. They had lost much earlier in the infertile acres of their mind.
Ricky Ponting ridiculed the minnows. Now they can say - Me, yes!
Rahul Dravid must not think about the Sri Lankans on Friday as yet. Monday precedes it. And while India’s World Cup looks campaign looks jagged and temporarily derailed, it is far from over. Get back on the tracks, guys, the Indian Railways have made record profits this year.
Let the steam engine roll, Men in Blue ! Let the games begin !
