Cricket as Life – A philosophy to follow
Considering the space that sports has taken in my life, I can hardly help thinking that sports are, at the same time, a part of my life as well as a microcosm of life itself. I have written on several occasions in the past on how one can draw [management] lessons from sports, for example with rugby and rowing… There is no doubt that sports participate in the development, among other things, of leadership skills and life skills (e.g. learning to win and lose graciously). Sports have been an integral part of my experience and formation. Physical and emotional scars, tears and elation, friends and enemies mark my portfolio of memories.
Recently, reflecting back on my days (10 years) at boarding school in England, I was pondering what cricket had brought to my life. Cricket outside England and the former colonies does not bowl over many people and I do not have regular occasion to talk about the subject in my sphere of friends. Mentioning cricket is more likely to provoke a long off, sound like a silly slip of the tongue, leave a pit in the gully. They just don’t get the point; you don’t have a third leg to stand on.
I remember reading a wonderful article about how countries that play cricket go to war less often; at least, cricket was a pacifying activity, capable of aiding diplomatic relations. The point of the article was that cricketers were inculcated with a certain sense of civility and that, in competing against one another, there is an overall sense of fair play that reigns — otherwise the epithet, “that’s just not cricket” is voiced. Of course, all the cited countries in the article were colonies of the English. There remains the fact that, unlike England’s other colonies, the USA did not see fit to pick up cricket. In its stead, the Americans cultivated baseball. Here is a crooked timber blog taking a look on that subject. If I can retrace that article, I will gladly post.
Meanwhile, I was reflecting how a 5-day [cricket] test match was a condensed version of life. If you play a full 5-day test, it is quite the journey. As the title of the contest suggests, it is a test of your endurance and concentration. There are a four cycles as you bat first, field, bat again and field again (in life, there are four broad cycles: baby, teenager, adult and you’re looking good, son). You pass multiple moments being in, being out. If you mess up the first time, you generally have the chance to make up for it in the second innings. But if you score well in the first innings, people will be gunning for you in the second at-bat. More often than not, you come out with a draw, but the superior point is to appreciate the journey, to take away the positive moments, learn from the mistakes. Like most of life, cricket is not exactly wonderful television material (although the success of reality shows is throwing doubt on my assumption). Like in life, it is the collection of small moments that give the most meaning to the event.
As Voltaire said, one should cultivate one’s garden. In cricket, during a 5-day match, you certainly want to have a good grounds keeper and a beautiful green square. Over the five days, the wicket gets worn down and the bounces keep you on your toes. You cannot be dulled into routine, for you will surely pay the price. And, as I found in this thoughtfulmood blog, you need to take every ball at face value, because each ball has an independence from the prior deliveries and needs to be played accordingly.
While recognizing that a cricket match need not necessarily last 5 days to accommodate my machinations, I just wanted to use this space to reminisce about the days I played cricket. For the record, I played wicket keeper and was a very mediocre batsman. But, I remember well my cricketing days. My last official game was playing as an old boy at my prep school (now the defunct Old Malthouse School, replete with VIP site on Facebook) and I remember how we achieved a tie (exactly the same score after 20 overs). The last time I faced a ball, without pads I might add, was on a dusty field outside of Delhi where barefooted boys were having the equivalent of a pickup game. I faced one ball and bowled a couple of balls (which caused considerable aches for the following days). They showed great grace in allowing me to relive my younger days.
Like many of the eccentric games that I have had the occasion to play (and still do), including Real Tennis, Eton Fives, Field Game, Wall Game, the game of cricket has enriched my memories. To a certain degree, cricket represents the closest I came to doing far niente (not one of my strengths) in sports. Howzat?
Otherwise, the name of the game is to make sure you live your life and are able to say at the end: that’s cricket.