Why did cricket have to answer to baseball?

England’s team is about to arrive, and little excitement, and even less coverage… Yes, a sign of the times – of the times. Pietersen in, Anderson out – and a host of new faces in the England squad. India, six of the finalists of the World Cup still missing from the squad, but who cares any more — our memory span is so short, that we have already forgotten the England tour — even the most recent Champions Trophy match is forgotten two days later. [caption id=“attachment_96544” align=“alignleft” width=“380” caption=“cricket did not need T-20, which is a club sport, just as baseball, a club sport, did not need national teams. AFP”]  [/caption] We are fed our diet of instant cricket, we do not have to think about it — and we wander, meander, on and on. “T-20 is cricket’s answer to baseball”, but is it an answer? And, much more importantly, why did we have to answer to baseball? Why did we have to turn the most beautiful game in the world into a tamasha? Which baseball is not, and never has been. In the more than 125-year history of that great, great game, the basic rules have never changed – nine innings, nine players, a diamond-shaped field – the same six months of play, climaxing in the World Series – six months of play, not six weeks. And, for those who might want to know, baseball does not have cheerleaders; and also has only recently had national teams – this is the big difference between cricket and baseball. National teams in cricket have existed for as long as baseball has existed as an organised sport – cricket did not need T-20, which is a club sport, just as baseball, a club sport, did not need national teams. And, by the way, how does ICC, which supports international cricket – do not miss the word ‘nation’ in-between – suddenly becomes a promoter of a completely club-based tournament, not even county or state, but club? Sorry, I should not have said this – everyone is making so much money from T-20 – why squabble about ethics or values or tradition? So, what if our national team is decimated and defeated, let us make more and more money, and turn more and more young cricket lovers into one-dimensional followers of the game; not to mention one-dimensional players of the game. Long, long ago, when an England team was announced for a tour of India, for weeks in advance of the arrival of MCC, newspapers and magazines – from Illustrated Weekly to Sport & Pastime – would carry individual write-ups and photographs of each player. And we would discuss them for hours over tea and samosas, and await the first practice match, usually against the previous season’s Ranji Trophy winner, as keenly as we did the first Test. Yes, it was a different time, a different era. But does the fact that it was different make what is happening today right? Is the new always better, the old always outdated? The secret is to know and sense the truth in both – to appreciate the best of change, and the deepest of tradition. As an example, the immense improvement in fielding because of the changes in the game is wonderful and the total decline in the skill of sustained batting is very sad. The other even sadder decline is in the skill of watching cricket – sustained watching, sustained viewing – over five days – the difference between reading a fine novel, and reading an sms. What is to be done? I can only give my own viewpoint – and that is that our leading players – all of them – should make a combined statement. Through not word, but through commitment and performance, that Test cricket is still the most important form of their art, their skill, their passion. That is the least we can do in Pataudi’s memory. That is the least we can do for a world which desperately craves for excellence — and tradition.