Feet that walk ~ Malinda Words

Adam Gilchrist 'walking' during the World Cup semi-final against Sri Lanka in 2003

‘Aevidda paya dahas vatee’ is a Sinhala saying that refers to the value of walking. Literally, it means, ‘feet that walk are worth thousands…’ Thousands of kahavanu or masurang we don’t know. If we talk in rupees, we would have to talk of hundreds of thousands or millions and not thousands considering inflation and of course the fuel crisis that crippled one and all.

Walking is good for many reasons, including of course fund-raising activities. But there’s another kind of walking. One associated with cricket. It refers to a batter who knows he/she is out (for, say, having nicked a delivery ever so faintly to the wicket keeper or slip cordon) and although appeals from fielders haven’t swayed the umpire nevertheless decides to walk back to the pavilion, outing him/herself, so to say.

Today with DRS and third umpires, the bowler, fielders and umpires have the opportunity to press the point home should they feel they are right. Today, as it was the case before the ICC pencilled in review options and the development of technology, there are no laws that say you can’t wait for the umpire’s decision. Doesn’t mean batters cannot walk though. Some still do, still.

What’s important is that it is a moral rather than legal issue. Anthony McGowan explores the moral prerogatives in a wonderful article titled ‘The ethics of walking in cricket: from Socrates to Nietzsche’ in www.theguardian.com published in December 2019.

Based on the ideological or even philosophical predilections of well known Western historical figures who made morality, among other things, their concern, McGowan speculates on whether or not each would walk. Here’s the gist.

‘Socrates would have walked. Plato would have too, if he hadn’t got rid of cricket altogether. The next is hilarious: Diogenes the Cynic ‘would have marched out to the wicket and defecated on the pitch, just short of a good length. Epicurus would have walked and advocated walking to boot. Aristippus and the Cyrenaics would say ‘do not walk, just enjoy your time out there.’ Pyrrho of Elis and the Skeptics who insisted that nothing is certain would not have walked. Stoics, trusting fate and convinced that if the umpire hasn’t given it then it must be the right decision, would not walk. Aristotle would have walked but only if he was sure that the umpire was about to give him out; otherwise he would stand his ground. Kant, who believed that fellow crickets are owed the truth would have walked. The Utilitarian does not walk for there’s no utility value in doing so. Nietzsche would not have walked.’

There you have it. The particular batter will think through the dilemma as per the moral tenets he/she subscribes to. Judgment on the act (of walking or not) will likewise be informed by the morality each ‘judge’ has embraced. So ‘walkers’ would be applauded by some and vilified by others. All very subjective.

There are two instances that come to mind. Feel free to judge, to applaud or condemn.

During the 97th Battle of the Blues, in 1976, the entire Royal team appealed for a caught-behind down the leg side and the umpire ruled Lalith Ratnyake out. The batsman had been shocked and it showed on his face. He just shook his head and walked back. The umpire’s decision was final and respected. That was the sportsman’s creed back then.

The reaction was not lost on the Royal skipper, T M S Saldin. He conferred with his teammates and requested the umpire to call Ratnayake back. Many claim that Saldin knew enough of Ratnayake to understand that he would not feign disbelief at the dismissal. Many claim that had it been any other Thomian, Saldin would not have bothered to ‘review’ with his teammates.

A few years later, in 1982, the Royal veggie Malik Samarasinghe had enticed Stefan Anthonisz offer the faintest of an edge, so faint that only the keeper, Sarinda Unamboowe had appealed. The umpire declined the appeal.

Anthonisz stood firm for a few seconds looking at the ground. Then he turned, looked Sarinda in the eye, and as Sarinda later recalled, ‘muttered an audible obscenity and to the shock of all, on and off the field, tucked his bat under his arm and trudged off the field.’

All the Royalists on the field, once they realized what had happened, had applauded Anthonisz all the way to the pavilion. There may have been some Cyrenaics, Stoics, Aristotlians and Utilitarians in the Thomian camp who would have been scornful.

Sarinda, it is reported, had made a beeline for the Thomian dressing room at the tea break to shake Stefan’s hand and to confess, ‘I would never have done that.’

Two examples, then, of a different kind of aevidda paya, feet that walked. Feet that walked the talk, in fact; the talk of the done thing being done. The one where perceptions of an individual’s integrity persuaded a decision-review and a decision-reversal; a walk back associated with certain moral convictions; and the other a walk praised and perhaps scorned. Feel free to judge, to applaud or condemn.

Both matches ended in draws. Had there been decisions in either match, the significance of these small acts may have been assessed differently and different values attached to each.

Suffice to say that Anthonisz, Ratnayake and Saldin are remembered more often than whoever excelled with bat or ball. All things considered, these walks were pure gold forged in the alchemy of moral consideration. Intangible and yet highly valued.

['The Morning Inspection' is the title of a column I wrote for the Daily News from 2009 to 2011, one article a day, Monday through Saturday. This is a new series. Links to previous articles in this new series are given below]

23 June 2023

Feet that walk

0 comments: