Catch it
Gaurav Kanthwal
Men in White: A Book of Cricket by Mukul Kesavan. Penguin Viking. Pages 278. Rs 395.

Going by the title and introduction of this book, one anticipates reading specifically about Test cricket, but inside all the talk is about cricket in general. The simplicity of description invites the reader to trace the evolution of cricket and the way the game is played and watched now. It records an experience of a fan who watches real action on the ground and how those spectacular events are etched in his memory as sublime forever. The beauty of reading this book lies in the breezy language in which it is written. It is the originality of conception and informal way of narration, which drifts the reader along with the writer.

For a cricket zealot, every form of cricket, whether its customised gully cricket, nerve-wrangling ODI or a leisurely-paced Test cricket, has its own thrills and charms. The author delves in detail about each form realises the dynamics of cricket in our lives. To say, "Test cricket is to sport what shastriya sangeet is to music" it speaks volumes about the way game has been contextualised in the rise of slam-banging Twenty20.

Kesavan expresses adulation for his cricketing heroes, all of whom are unsurprisingly Indian. That’s why a section, Local Heroes, has been entirely devoted to them—like a typical Indian fan who deifies his heroes at one moment and castigates at the other. He starts off with Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi whom he considers a romantic hero, albeit with one eye. But Sunil Gavaskar, for him, is like money in the bank. If anyone could measure his greatness it could only be the great Don Bradman. Kesavan is so enamoured by the aura of Gavaskar that he becomes the touchstone for every batsman of past or present. Even Sachin Tendulkar struggles to show that class and consistency in his batting. Kesavan says, "Tendulkar and Gavaskar are chalk and cheese." Kesavan’s silence for Indian bowling reflects the paucity that our team has eternally faced of fast bowlers.

A fanatic fan of Dravid’s rock-solid defence will probably be outraged by the curt statement that Dravid’s defence isn’t compact: it’s extravagant. Still worse, Kesavan doesn’t find anything graceful in Tendulkar’s batting style. He parodies Tendulkar’s mannerism in the words of Ruchir Joshi: "The signature crotch yank as he adjusts his abdomen guard." But his account is cautious enough to acknowledge the contribution each cricketer has ssmade to the Indian cricket. If not worshipped, these demigods deserve to be hailed. This, in short, forms the crux of this section.

It also reveals some hidden aspects, which have a direct bearing on the nature of game. A helmet, which we just see as a protective headgear worn by batsman, actually attributes a considerable aggression to a contemporary batsman like Sourav Ganguly. Since its invention, the game has become high scoring and taken away sting from the fast bowling. Camera, the other major innovation, has been discussed in thorough detail. Its use, whether to take crucial decision during plays or to relay the proceedings of the game, has certainly enhanced the interest in the game. Earlier, radio commentary used to be descriptive but now, with a dash of sophistication, it has gone into explanatory mode.

"Indian fans aren’t just optimists, they’re connoisseurs of hope." Thus begins an interesting chapter, Hope and the Indian Spectator. Despite repeated failures in lower batting order, Indian cricket fans will still believe that "anything can happen till the last ball is bowled."

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