The Gravity of the Game
Groundskeepers prepare the field and wicket at Hagley Oval, Christchurch, for a test match between New Zealand and Sri Lanka in December 2018.
So optimism was rationed like wartime jam. For most of the day Lord’s was alive with anxious chatter, a jittery, skittery babbling, “what do you think, can they, could they, will they, maybe?”
– Andy Bull conveys the crowd’s temperament during the 2019 ICC Men’s World Cup Final
Lionel Messi stares up at his final peak. Kylian Mbappé prowls in the foothills of greatness. From the Andes to the Alps, from River Plate to the banks of the Seine, our planet unites around its ultimate game.
– Peter Drury invites us to witness the 2022 FIFA Men’s World Cup Final
The morning of December 18, 2018. Summertime in full flow, a taunting breeze wafting in from the hostel room window. A crucial decision to make.
I have just 64 hours to explore Wellington, on this lap, and the certainty of rain the next day has all but been confirmed. My prepared itinerary mocks me on my phone – the planned indoor-outdoor balance now thrown askew. The sun, shining bright since early morning, will continue to raise temperatures throughout this, my only full one in the city.
I could go, as I had originally desired, to the Basin Reserve. It will be Day 4 of a test match between New Zealand and Sri Lanka. My only chance to observe two giants of the international game, likely for many years to come. If I take this route and the rain falls as promised, I check the cricket box but miss out on many other outdoor sights under a perfect sky; tomorrow being the opportune time to explore the capital from the drier side of the window.
Or I could skip the Basin. Mount Victoria would be a nice hike. The waterfront is abuzz with activity. A nice trip on the cable cars perhaps, followed with a stride through the lush parks on the way to Zealandia. But the age-old duel between bat and ball beckons…
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At this point of my life, I have only had the pleasure of attending one international cricket match – a One Day International (ODI) between Scotland and the United Arab Emirates in Edinburgh in 2016.
Those familiar with cricket understand its global system to be a glorified old boys’ club. Aside from its heavily gendered history (the women’s game has been chronically underfunded and neglected), there are embarrassingly few nations at the top. After 4 centuries of experimentation, 179 years of international matches, and juggling of 3 official formats, the sport hedges its bets on just 3 nations1. The International Cricket Council (ICC), the sport’s governing body, is akin to FIFA in its corruption. It does, however, trump its counterpart in one regard. The ICC’s approach to resource allocation can be kindly described as making the most extreme trickle-down economic policies look like generous social welfare. The Council borrows from its future to inflate its value today, sacrificing growth for profit, ensuring cricket remains in its infancy. After all – who can predict the height of a sport’s competition with such a small sample size of reoccurring matchups and ‘world’ tournaments that are repeatedly the playground of the same 8-10 countries?
A shame since there is much to appreciate about the game. It offers the most complex fielding structure of any sport2, the most innovative and flexible batting and bowling possibilities, the most intriguing role players3, the most pitch or location-dependent outcomes4, and the possibility of playing a single game for 30 hours over 5 days and still having 4 results attainable for both teams as the final minutes dwindle5. It is an inexplicably intricate sport, one that deserves its chance in more exotic elevations and remote settings.
Scotland and UAE, in case it is not clear, sit firmly in the ‘have nots’ section of the cricket fraternity. I enjoyed being at that particular game; it is not often that I attend sporting events generally. While I absorbed it all in my own way, I did look forward to viewing more competitive affairs in person. It would be a surprisingly short 2 years until I got the opportunity.
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Which brings us back to that crucial decision. I reluctantly opt for the parks, waterfront, and lookouts.
The Basin Reserve as viewed from Mount Victoria on December 18, 2018. Sri Lanka bat against New Zealand, in the midst of a heist.
Those reading this well versed in their cricket history may have just groaned.
While I had a perfectly pleasant time around the city, basking in the beautiful weather, a great escape was afoot. Sri Lanka had started the day in a losing position. Their batters were attempting to survive against a strong bowling attack. (For those unfamiliar with cricket: a team’s batters have 2 innings over 5 days to score more runs than their opposition, i.e. 2 chances to bat for each batter. Sri Lanka was far behind New Zealand after the first innings. Victory was a delusion. Their batters were down to their last chance – survive for as long as possible and hope that they are not bowled out before the match runs out of time.) The chances that the Lankans would salvage a draw were close to nil, as they would need to endure 6 hours (and possibly more) without losing too many batters.
Not only did the Lankans succeed, they managed a feat that has only been achieved (at the writing of this piece) in just 20 instances over 179 years. The same 2 batters who began the morning facing up to New Zealand’s best ended the day having preserved their wicket. It was a historic occasion, and one I unwittingly witnessed from a fair distance away atop Mount Victoria. New Zealand were unable to break the batting partnership despite 6 hours of trying under the baking sun. Both teams knew that rain was around the corner. Sure enough, as it arrived the next day and ended the game, batters Mendis and Matthews had etched their names into the almanacs.
And I could have been there.
– – –
It is difficult not to be romantic about sport. To follow its ebbs and flows, its personalities, the outlines it draws of our competitive edge before coloring them in with the pinnacle of athletic prowess.
Even those not interested in its technical aspects, or enamored with its superstars, can appreciate the crescendos of its great occasions.
I still remember working in the stock room of a retail furniture store, assembling and labeling inventory, annoyed that I was missing the 2010 FIFA World Cup Final. I barely cared about soccer, but there is so much more to tournaments constrained by time and infused with politics that compel one to the screen. I had asked my parents to text me the score, growing frustrated that they had forgotten after more than 90 minutes of silence only to learn that, of course, Spain had taken interminably long to net the one and only goal of the game. Perhaps I was fortunate to miss that contest.
I have been lucky enough to attend National Hockey League games in Vancouver and New York. Ice hockey arenas filled to the brim have a uniquely intimate feeling, your eyes joining thousands of others looming over the extraordinarily fast-paced players. You could be fooled into thinking their skates and motion are generating the very electricity that fills the air, galvanizing as it is.
And while I have not had a chance to attend anything in person since facing this little dilemma in Wellington, I have had the unequaled joy of viewing (on television) what may be two of the greatest sporting events of the 21st century.
The first, in July of 2019, the ICC World Cup Final between New Zealand and England. Definitely the closest and potentially the greatest, of all cricket matches ever contested. It ended in a technical draw, twice! England were declared winners under a set of arbitrary circumstances, agreed to by participants and organizers alike before the tournament had commenced, none of whom had probably considered the prospect of – dare you mention it – a close encounter. It was a comically appropriate ending for a sport that, as mentioned, is led by those who do not operate with much forethought6.
In case you are curious, the full 2019 match is available to watch here.
The second, the fierce and famous clash between France and Argentina for the 2022 FIFA World Cup title. An extraordinary back and forth. The skill and strategy filling the spaces between each individual’s feet delightfully followed from every corner of this globe. The legendary commentary, hanging on universal appeals. An exhilarating experience from a couch in front of a screen, impossible to dwell on what it must have felt like being in that stadium.
A dream to carry into the future, then. A chance to spectate on those most exciting of episodes within our repurposed coliseums.
There is a lot more to say here, on the tyranny of sport. Its capitalist superstructures, extreme wealth and influence, the chauvinism of many of its dedicated followers, and even its parasitical elements as they relate to our collective financial, social and political economies.
But I must end this contemplation here, grappling with the idyllic. The spectacle can be valued and questioned in good measure. Plenty of time for both.
Footnotes
- India, Australia and England guide the narrative. The majority of revenue comes from India, who through their cricket board dominate the direction of the game. England is the historical holder of cricket’s laws and was previously its most influential power. Australia have a long history with the sport, a stable, passionate audience, and are cricket’s most decorated nation. ↩︎
- The fielding team has the option to place 9 players in an innumerable configurations around the 2 batters. Though there are 20-25 orthodox positions, there are a greater number depending on the handedness of the batters at the crease and match situation. ↩︎
- In cricket, the captain of a team (especially the fielding captain) is arguably the most endowed with power of any international sport. The captain has the ability to end the team’s innings, appeal umpiring decisions, set field placements, and select who is to bowl and in what order. They also devise strategy on-the-fly and advise on player selection alongside team management. Some other role players include the wicketkeeper, all-rounders (those who bat and bowl), finishers (aggressive batters who score quickly), anchors/accumulators (batters who are expected to bat for longer periods), and intimidators (bowlers that bowl difficult to play deliveries that usually aim for the upper torso or head of the batter). ↩︎
- Every cricket ground has different pitch conditions (soil, grass, humidity, etc.) and dimensions. These determine how the ball reacts off the pitch, how far it goes when bludgeoned, and the possible scores that can be posted. The weather on the day is also critical, determining how the ball moves through the air and its visibility. ↩︎
- In test cricket, the longest format of the game, there are 4 possible results (a win, loss, draw, or tie). A draw is declared when neither team can achieve victory in 5 days, while a tie indicates that both teams ended on the same score and no longer have wickets remaining, i.e. no more players to bat and increase their score. While most modern matches end in either a win or loss, on rare occasions all 4 results are still possible on the last hour of the last day of play. A recent, thrilling match between England and New Zealand is a glowing example. ↩︎
- Just throwing this note here on the hilarity of cricket. There are predictable things, and then there are times where you just have to lie down and wait for the bees to dissipate before you can continue playing. Sri Lanka and South Africa’s match in the group stages of the 2019 World Cup was paused during a pitch invasion by bees. The moment even made its way into the world cup’s closing montage. A curious coincidence, because it was another match between the same two teams that was paused for over 12 minutes a couple years before the event for the exact same reason. ↩︎