Dinesh Chandimal: Sporting Personality of the Year 2014

Greatness in sports is often measured in the number and margins of victory.  Domination of a discipline or a sport over a long period of time naturally wins accolades.  Sports, after all, is mostly about winning. And yet, not everything that stands out for standing ovation has to do with besting the opposition.  Sometimes it is rising to the occasion to the point that you rise above yourself and your self-interest.  This is why ‘The Nation’ picks Dinesh Chandimal as the Sporting Personality of the Year 2014.

On that day in Dhaka there couldn’t have been any Sri Lankan without a smile.  There couldn’t have been many Sri Lankans anywhere in the world following the World T-20 final who is did not smile at that particular moment when Sri Lanka defeated India to win ICC silverware after 18 long years.  The entire team had broad grins. The officials too. And yet, one smile was special.  It belonged to someone who didn’t take the field.  Dinesh Chandimal.

There was a report that Chandimal wept when he heard he was dropped for the Semi-Final against the West Indies (he had been docked for the game against New Zealand due to a slow over-rate).  We don’t know if this is true.  It is never a happy thing to be dropped.  It is probably worse not to be picked at all (ask Marvan Atapattu, he has booked the defining chapter on ‘The Book of Drops’ if and when it gets written).  It was not that Chandimal was not picked.

It was not that he was dropped (he could have, so we are told, insisted on playing and that would have been it). What is ‘special’ about it all is that he was the designated captain of the team that went on to win the Championship.  And he, the captain, was dropped!   ‘Devastating’ doesn’t quite describe what he probably would have felt.

The man was woefully out of form and as Lasitha Malinga’s short and successful ‘captaining’ experience showed, a team that already had four skippers (Mahela Jayawardena, Kumar Sangakkara, Tillekeratne Dilshan and Angelo Matthews) didn’t really have to worry about him being dropped.  As someone pointed out, there was the ‘National Captain’, Lasith Malinga, and there was the ‘Leadership Council’ made of the aforementioned skippers.  Mahela led the leaders, it was pretty obvious.

What is beautiful about it all is that it was an issue for everyone except for Sri Lankans.  It is hard to think that the press of any country would not have raised a lot of questions if a designated captain abdicated for all intents and purposes in favor of one the men he is supposed to be leading.  For Sri Lankans, apart from a few wry jokes, it was as it should be. Logical to the last letter.

Still.

Still there’s the small issue of a young man who had been appointed captain and had to lead players who had a dozen years’ worth of experience more than he did.  There’s the small issue of having left Sri Lanka as captain and having to watch the final from the dressing room.  There’s also the small issue of Dinesh Chandimal running around the ground after Sri Lanka won the match, carrying the man who put the final touches to the campaign on his shoulders.  Dinesh Chandimal helped hold Kumar Sangakkara high.  He couldn’t stop smiling a schoolboyish smile.  That delight was unadulterated. That admiration was unadulterated.  And in this, there was as much ‘team,’ ‘team-spirit,’ and ‘leadership’ than anything we were privileged to watch unfold out there in the middle of the ground.

There was courage on the part of the selectors, that unhappy, ready to be maligned tribe; for they dropped the captain. Had Sri Lanka lost, someone might have said ‘you can’t win a match after dropping the skipper’.  Someone else might have said, ‘why did you pick him in the first place?’  A third might say ‘were you crazy to make him captain?’  Sanath was bold. Chandimal was humble.

Now that’s a World Cup story right there.  In some strange, round-about way, therein lies a gene-fact of a team-corporeality that helped bring the World Cup to Sri Lanka.  We didn’t have a single stand-out player in this tournament (as opposed to the previous two editions).  We do best, perhaps, when we do it together.  Dinesh Chandimal did his part and did it well.  With utmost grace.  Take a bow, Chandimal

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Lasith Malinga and the politics of ‘lionhood’

No cricketer on this planet looks like a lion and pounces on prey like one too the way Lasith Malinga does.  No one knows if there’s any lion-thinking behind his preferred hairstyles.  But there’s certainly ‘mane’ in it.  He could be all smiles once delivery is done but he is nothing less than ferocious in stride, sling and expression of triumph.

For all this, he is also one of the most frequently lampooned among present day cricketing stars. In Sri Lanka, at least.  His run-ins with the media and curt responses made for a plethora of memes.  He is accused of reserving his best for the Indian Premier League (IPL) with insinuations of being greedy for big bucks.  To be fair, however, he doesn’t turn around and ask those who accuse him of being less patriotic what they have done and refused to do for the country. 

He does not point fingers. He doesn’t demand that finger-pointers point fingers in all directions.  During his career he erupted once.  Off-field.  That’s it.  But out there where he does battle, he erupts often enough and enough to help Sri Lanka chalk up victory after victory.  He is a lion who doesn’t think too much about symbols, which, as George Carlin once said brilliantly, are for the symbol-minded. 

Lasitha Malinga knows how to smile, even when intended victim scores an unintended four off an unintended edge that almost brushes stump before beating keeper and speeding towards the boundary.  

His wry smile on such occasions is indistinguishable from his wry smile at being hit for six, but both are clearly different from the smile of delight that quickly changes to roar of triumph emphasized by fist-pumping.  Through it all, he doesn’t speak lion-language.  He is athlete, cricketer, competitor, sportsman and gentleman.  That’s it. 

 

He will, in a few hours ‘lead’ Sri Lanka against India in the T-20 World Cup Final in Dhaka, Bangladesh.  That comes in quotes because no one can tell for sure how much leading Lasith Malinga did in the match against New Zealand and in the Semi-Final against West Indies.  Perhaps it is an uniquely Sri Lankan thing that makes it ok to drop the skipper, appoint another, and have yet another or even a ‘leadership council’ running things on the field without any Sri Lankan finding any of it strange, least of all the appointed captain whose ego didn’t appear to have been bruised one bit.   

Perhaps it is just Lasith Malinga, doing what he knows to do best, doing what has to be done, not doing what’s not required, with just one objective: victory. 

He put everything in perspective recently when asked what the saddest moment of his cricketing career was.  Here’s a rough translation:

‘I am sad that I didn’t kiss the lion after taking wickets.  Had I kissed the lion everyone would be convinced that I play for my country, especially considering how I took those wickets.  Some in the media have slung a lot of mud at me, claiming that I never played for my country.  Maybe I haven’t.  And yet I was the fastest to collect 250 wickets.’

He is saying a lot right there.  Is patriotism about ‘kissing the lion’ or waving the flag or singing the national anthem louder than anyone else?  Or is it about going out there and giving it your best shot?  It is ironical that Lasith Malinga has to speak of nation, national interest and commitment to the same, not by stating the fact but questioning those who question him on these matters. 

In a few hours Lasith Malinga will sling his slingers. He may or may not lead his team to victory. He may or may not play a part in a victory if that’s the outcome. He may or may not contribute to defeat if that’s the outcome, i.e. by not meeting expectation.  One thing is certain. He won’t be kissing any lions. It’s not easy to do that when you are a lion yourself, not by hairstyle or roar, but by conduct on the field.  One more thing is clear.  He will not be a lesser lion than anyone else, especially not his detractors. 

All power to you Lasith Malinga.  You’ve already done enough.  We are privileged.  Anything more, and we can consider ourselves blessed.

msenevira@gmail.com

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The morning after the World Cup Final

Mahela Jayawardena has resigned.  That’s a personal choice and it has to be respected.  Soon we’ll know why and then we can talk about it. For now, the man who led Sri Lanka to an incredible run in the T-20 World Cup has stepped down.  Post mortems will come later no doubt.  There will probably be a blame-game.  Lasith Malinga will be maligned. Match-fixing questions will be raised perhaps.  All this is incidental to the issue at hand.

Mahela resigned.  No one will know if he would still have resigned had Sri Lanka won the World Cup.  But if loss is reason enough that’s a signal to all those who hold high posts whose tenure has been marked with failure.  Mahela didn’t fail, no.  But compared to this blip on Sunday, there are enormous blunders committed by many in powerful places that warrant resignation, if not sacking. 

Resignation is a personal choice.  Sacking is not.  I doubt anyone is asking for Mahela’s head at this point.  Perhaps it is best; perhaps this is not the correct time.  Either way, this move makes it possible for a younger replacement to mature to levels necessary to lead the team to glory in the 50 over version of the World Cup a couple of years from now.

What of expectations?  Well, to put it brutally, they were buried.  What of the morning after?  It’s the same world, same set of problems, same reasons for hope, same fears.  Give or take a little.  There’s no devastation. 

I asked around.  What if we had lost to India?  What if it was Australia that beat us?  One answer to both questions: ‘Worse!’ 

Why?  I don’t know, I’ve not done a comprehensive survey.  But if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say that the rivalries with those two countries are more intense.  It’s probably got something to do with attitude.  Airs.  Gamesmanship as opposed to sportsmanship. 

The West Indies are different.  The match preview on www.cricinfo.com headlined the contest as ‘Calypso vs. Baila’.  There’s commonality there.  It’s probably the closest one can get to a home-vs-home game in international cricket.  That’s amazing, considering that the two teams reside at two ends of the world.  It’s possible that the crowds cheered a fraternal team, but my gut feeling is that had we played India or Australia and lost they’d still be there for Mahela and his men, who entertained and raised hopes although they fell at the end.  They were backed all the way.  It was not their day.  So what?   

Sarinda Unamboowe in a Facebook update, perhaps put it best: ‘Can we just blame it on the dancing girls and get on with it?  West Indies were the deserved winners.  Well done Sri Lanka. There are lots of positives we can take away from this.  Let’s build from here.’

Mahela led.  From the front. To the end.  West Indies proved to be the better team.  Sri Lankans were naturally disappointed.  And yet, when the last wicket fell and indeed when it defeat was clearly written on the wall, the crowds did not leave.  They stayed on. They stayed when the Windies danced.  They cheered the winners.  They cheered the losers.  Sri Lanka was not the better team on Sunday.  Sri Lanka, nevertheless, remained a great nation of cricket lovers. 

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Imran Khan’s new World Cup quest

Today Sri Lanka will battle the West Indies for the World Cup, the T-20 one that is.  This is Sri Lanka’s 4^th ‘World Cup’ final in 5 years and expectations will naturally be high for Mahela and his boys to deliver.  No pressure though, for we are a nation that celebrates victory wildly, cheers the winners and accepts defeat without going craz

The Final is being played just over a week after a long protest march from Galle to Colombo by agitated academics.  Cricket (like all forms of entertainment) is a convenient distraction for regimes, whether they are besieged or mildly irritated.  Once the Final is done, though, life returns to routine and shelved problems resurface.  For now, though, in Sri Lanka, it’s all about cricket. 

Had Pakistan made it to the Final, the same could have been written about that country’s trials and tribulations.  Pakistan lost and therefore conjecture on that count is unnecessary.  What is more relevant to the people in Pakistan, as cricket-mad a country as any in the region, is another march, and one planned coincidentally by another World Cup hero,  Imran Khan, who led the Pakistan team that was crowned in 1992.     

Imran Khan, loved by the cricketing world and hailed by many as the most popular politician in Pakistan at this moment (even as demographic realities are likely to stump him again and again in elections), is planning a two-day march which will start in Islamabad and end with a rally in South Waziristan, which has become the major focus of drone strikes by the United States military.

As of now, it is unclear whether the relevant authorities will give Khan the go-ahead.  Whether or not permission is obtained, this particular march puts the word ‘World’ and ‘Cup’ in proper perspective.   

The truth is that even as people are entertained (including those who have the privilege not to care or are in dire need of distraction) the world is not a happy place for millions and millions of people.  There may be disappointment in Islamabad about the exit of their cricketing heroes, but the greater concern in that country is about what’s being done in the name of grappling with terrorism. 

Veteran US politician and one time Presidential aspirant, Rev. Jesse Jackson speaking on crimes against humanity in Geneva in March 2012 unequivocally cast Washington in the ‘Perpetrator’ column: ‘Those who own the drones are guilty!’  That’s something the rest of the world did not need proclamation to recognize. 

The truth is that the thunder of a nation’s wild cheer at a cricket match win is nothing compared to that produced by bombs as well as the silent sob of a child who has just lost his mother to one of the countless indiscriminate drone attacks by the US military.   

In 1992, just after winning the World Cup, Imran Khan said he would set up a cancer hospital in Pakistan.  He did.  Twenty years have passed.  He will not be holding a World Cup tonight.  He has other things on his hands.  Far more important than a trophy, but a ‘World Cup’ nonetheless is at stake. 

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