Showing posts with label Ranjan Madugalle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ranjan Madugalle. Show all posts

08 December 2020

09:51

By Malinda Words

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Ranjan Madugalle’s notes on journeys

 


Ranjan Madugalle doesn’t give interviews. That’s a contractual bind with the ICC he can do nothing about. His work speaks for him, it could be argued. He ought to write a biography and I am sure it would be of immense value to cricket lovers and the game itself.  

Ranjan is not all silence with smiles and nods though. There are times he speaks. And sometimes people take notes or, in this case, transcribe.

What is the legacy he would like to leave behind, he was once asked. This is what he said:

‘I look at it in the form of having done my job to the best of my ability. In that process if I have left the game better, I will sleep well. I will always look at it as an absolute privilege to be part of a great game, first as a spectator, secondly as a player, for five years as a national selector, then for a short period as a commentator, and quite a bit as a referee. I think I have been lucky to see the game evolve from the 1970s till now. In the process, I have made friends on and off the field, which I value and treasure.’

It reminds one of the oft-quoted oath taken by the young men of Athens which, Ranjan would remember, was always inserted into the Big Match souvenir of his school. All five years he played for Royal, in the years before and probably to this day. 

The ephebic oath, written in the mid fourth century BC and preserved on an inscription from Acharnae, was taken by young Athenians upon induction into the military academy, the Ephebic College, graduation from which was a precondition for being granted citizenship. So much for ‘democracy’ and ‘equality’ in the much celebrated Grecian City!  Not our concern here.

The oath contains the following line: ‘My native land I will not leave a diminished heritage but greater and better than when I received it.’

Ranjan is all Sri Lankan and all Global Citizen or at least Citizen of the Cricketing Universe. Cricket is a country and one which he has graced with his presence, his heart and most importantly a mind of absolute clarity. Underlined with integrity. He has curated this garden well and if it has bloomed or at least survived bludgeoning at the hands of the vile, much of the credit should go to him. If he were to depart today, he would no doubt sleep well.

The transcriber also caught some advice he had offered youngsters. There were four lines. We will talk about the first: ‘No journey is a joy ride. No journey is planned. No journey is structured the way you want.’

Let’s break it down.

It’s never a case of easy-peasy. Never a piece of cake. Never plain sailing. There are rough seas. There are undercurrents. There are storms. There can even be torpedoes. Mutiny, too. So, Ranjan seems to be saying, ‘retire illusions, young man!’ In other words, be ready for setbacks. Be ready to change course. He doesn’t say ‘give up.’  The journey teaches. Destinations should be kept in sight.

No journey is planned. Well, what he probably meant was that things don’t always pan out as expected. It’s not a bad thing to have a plan, but don’t expect things to follow the script in your hand. Doesn’t happen that way.

The structure of the journey. You make your journey but not in the circumstances of your choice. This doesn’t mean that you have no say in the matter. The structures set the parameters of the possible, but human history has shown that these limits are not cast in stone. They are altered by effort. Determination. Love. Commitment. They get you where you planned to go and even beyond, regardless of constraints.  

Ranjan Madugalle. His life is his story and therein are lessons he need not spell out.

Other articles in the series titled 'The Interception' [published in 'The Morning']

Do you have a plan? Strengths and weaknesses
Wait, it's a strategy
The virtues of risk-free generosity
Thinking and out-thinking in sports
Read, locked-down people, read!
The team, the team!
Who should take the last shot?
It's all about partnerships
'The done thing' is rarely done
'Practice, lots of practice'
Special, always and forever
The shortcut to greatness
It's healthy to retire the braggadocio 
Money talks, gold rules: are we ok with that?
Sometimes if you don't stand up, you fall
Selections and the political economy of disappointment
So who is the GOAT?
Predecessors are great teachers
When things go wrong check the fundamentals
There's always only one more game left
Mind games are part of the sporting story
Those nervous nineties
Out-think the opposition!
School sports and parents
The importing mania in school cricket
Sportsmen and sportswomen beware: your accounts will be hacked soon!
Not all victories are recorded

13 November 2018

07:50

By Malinda Words

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Mind-games are part of the sporting story


This is the seventh in a series of articles written for THE SUNDAY MORNING under the title 'The Interception'. Scroll down for previous articles.

For the benefit of those who are unfamiliar with this ancient Chinese hand game, Rock-Paper-Scissors is played between two people using three symbols. A closed fist is taken to be ‘rock’, a flat hand is ‘paper’ and a fist with the index and middle finger extended in the form of a ‘V’ and pointed horizontally would be ‘scissors.’   


Usually the two players would start with closed fists, tap the fists twice on a flat surface and then pick one of the above three hand positions. Paper covers stone, stone blunts scissors and scissors cut paper. The outcome of any single play would see one player winning or else it would be a draw, i.e, if both happen to have chosen the same symbol.  

It’s a game of chance with a dash of psychology. It’s about trying to get into the opponent’s head based on the choices he/she has made previously.  Mostly luck sure. The point is that in any competition, getting into the opponents head can give you an incredible edge.

In cricket for example, one of the most commonly employed tactics is to sledge. It’s all about throwing the person out of his rhythm. It’s about obtaining distraction. If the opponent is even slightly out of focus for even a fraction of a second, it would be tough to negotiate a wicket-taking delivery. Indeed even an innocuous delivery might prompt him into a rash shot and get out. 

That’s cheap according to some people but it’s part of the game. What is probably more rewarding is to outthink the enemy, so to speak.  

Way back in the early seventies, the Ananda College cricketers got the better of Royal’s star opening batsman, Prasanna Kariyawasam.  At one point, the Royal coach, Col F.C. De Saram had told the Master-in-Charge who was sitting next to him, ‘Colonel’ A.N. Perera (who related the story years later), ‘Kari is going to get out now.’  ‘AN Maama’ was my neighbor. He explained the thinking behind the conclusion.

‘You see, Kari liked the lofted off-drive and lofted on-drive.  They have stationed a long-off and long-on.  He will try going over the bowler’s head.  He will not see the man who is stationed between long-on and long-off because he’s at the edge of the sight-screen because he’s wearing white and the sight-screen is also white.’

That’s what ‘FC’ had said. A few deliveries later, Kari was caught ‘at the sight-screen.’

'AN Maama' told me lots of stories like that. I will recount a couple.

‘It was another Royal-Ananda match. Royal was batting well in the second innings with a decent lead. The match was heading towards a draw. Typically, teams would play safe, declaring only when it was clear that the opposing team didn’t have enough time to chase the set target. FC called Kari and  (T.M.S.) Saldin (the Vice Captain) and said, “I would declare now if I was you.” The boys had been surprised. Ananda had the best batsman in schools, Sidat Wettamuny and the less-than-safe target Ananda would have to chase would be in the realms of the possible. FC asked them to think about it. They did. They returned a few minutes later and said “Sir, we declared.”

‘FC then said, “good, now let me tell you how to go about it. You are worried about Wettimuni aren’t you? I say, he’s worth 50 runs. Target the batsmen at the other end.”

‘Sidat scored a half century, but at the close of play Ananda were 70 odd for 7!.’

The third story was about Ranjan Madugalle. 

‘FC noticed at practice that Ranjan was consistently getting out in the covers. He told Ranjan, “you like that shot don’t you? The problem is, you will get out. So adjust your grip slightly, angle it a bit and the ball won’t go to the fielder. After a few shots, they will adjust the field, moving cover point to take the catch. When they do that, switch back to your normal grip.”’

It’s all about the mind. In team sports you can get into the mind of a single player or the entire team. It’s about getting into their heads. 

AN Maama made a pertinent observation: ‘it’s nice when you get the batsman out playing his favorite shot.’  Confidence, then, easily moves to over-confidence. That makes for complacency. That’s the chink. That’s the vulnerability. You have to get into his head first, obviously.  It’s as useful a trick as messing with his head but far more satisfying. 

Chaminda Vaas and Muttiah Muralitharan never sledged. Vass ended with 761 wickets in international cricket, Murali with 1347.  I don’t know if they played rock-paper-scissors but they were probably conscious of the psychological element rather than relying on luck.


14 March 2014

21:48

By Malinda Words

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Ranjan Madugalle’s ‘lesson’ in 1982*

I think it was L.D.H. Peiris, Principal of Royal College (1972-1980) who introduced a tradition of inviting a distinguished old boy to address the student during assembly.  Or he may have been continuing an old tradition.  We never knew who or what would be foisted on us when we went for assembly, but it was always entertaining and speaking strictly for me, looking back I can say with certainty, I benefited. 



Yesterday (that would be Thursday) I spent a few hours at the 131st Battle of the Blues.  As always happens, one runs into old friends, some who have not been seen in years or even decades. There’s catching up, there’s chit chat, the occasional checking of score, dancing, singing and drinking. 



I knew I would meet Rajitha Dhanapala, friend from Grade 1A and about whom I wrote a few weeks ago (how he was unfairly dropped from the team, along with two others who constituted the top three batsmen in terms of batting averages that season, Chandana Panditharatne and Assagi Ranasinghe).  Rajitha was laughing.



‘Machang, I got so many calls. Pandi called after 22 years!  I even got calls from some Thomian friends who wanted to know if you would write about similar things that happened in their school.’



Now I know that such things happen in all schools, in all sports and indeed in all places and all things where some form of selection takes place.  I wasn’t ready for something that I heard yesterday though: ‘it happened this year too!’  What could I do or say but ‘oh well!’? 



Got me thinking though.  I remembered L.D.H. Peiris. Remembered his deep voice introducing a guest, a distinguished old boy, two of them in fact, way back in the year 1982.  Ranjan Madugalle and Asantha De Mel.  The former captained Royal in the 99th and the Centenary Battles of the Blues, the latter was ‘imported’, people said, from Isipathana College just for the Centenary match (1979).  They are both well known names today, but back then their claim to fame was just the fact that they were members of team that played Sri Lanka’s first test match (against Keith Fletcher’s England team). 



The Principal broke tradition. He had to.  There were two old Royalists in that team.  It was only Ranjan who spoke and I distinctly remember Asantha opting to ‘pass’ the invite to speak.  Ranjan was then a young old boy and therefore quite familiar.  He wasn’t as ‘distinguished’ as other distinguished old boys we had previously listened to, but that didn’t bother us. He was hero and later on did acquire distinction that put him way up there among the ‘distinguished’ who lectured young Royalists on certain mornings.  He spoke at length, but of all the things he said only one thing stuck in my mind.



‘Whenever I am out of form, getting out cheaply or to poor shots, I revert to the fundamentals.  I go back to the nets. I check my stance. I check the back-lift.  Things like that.  Invariably, I start performing better.  That is a life lesson. Whenever we go wrong, it is good to ask yourself if you’ve got the fundamentals wrong.  Basic things like discipline. Like values.  You will always find that that’s where the problem lies.  That is what needs to be corrected.’



I am obviously paraphrasing and would humbly accept any correction if Ranjan thinks I’ve done him injustice here.  



Ranjan would have been about 23 or 24 at the time and these words were indeed profound for someone so young.  It is clear also that he has consistently applied these principles to both his cricket and his career as a match referee. 



I remembered Ranjan because his is a lesson that is valid not just for cricketers and schoolboys, but coaches, teachers-in-charge, selectors and others involved in the game.  I am not sure if there was any wrong doing in team-selection this time around, but I am sure it won’t hurt anyone to step back and check ‘fundamentals’ now and then. 



In the matter of ‘selection’, it is a lesson that politicians and party leaders can benefit from if they choose to reflect deep on decisions made and processes adopted.  At what point does ‘procedure’ gets overruled by that dubious but sometimes inevitable concept called ‘discretion’?  Sometimes one does go with ‘gut-feeling’ but do they pause and ask themselves if ‘gut-feeling’ is an alibi for favouritism?   What kind of fundamentals are referenced during decision and in post-mortem?  And are these principles referred to selectively, i.e. at one’s convenience or worse for purposes of justification? 



I am thinking right now about party leaders, parties and the committees tasked with making candidates’ lists for the upcoming parliamentary elections.  We are not living in Utopia and therefore the insertion of celebrities can be understood and indeed it is more an indictment of how voters think than about the intellectual paucity of leaders. On the other hand, I think there is a thing called a ‘bottom line’, a minimum standard that should not be violated.   Sad to say, in many cases, the ‘bottom line’ is right at the bottom, meaning it cannot get worse. 



What are the fundamentals pertaining to politicians?  Manifesto, isn’t it?  How many of the elected actually return to the document they waved before the voter?  How many check if what they have done or are doing is consistent with the pledges made?  Do they ever go to the larger ‘fundamental’ of representation and of course that of proper conduct, which includes (or ought to include) things such as honestly, transparency and accountability?  Do they then check constitution and observe lacuna with respect to these things and if they do discover incongruence do they then work systematically and with utmost dedication to correct error? 



I think Ranjan Madugalle’s comment on returning to the fundamentals is a timeless one. There’s no magic in it, except in the fact that at a tender age he appeared to have learnt a lesson that few can claim to have learnt by the time they reach 80 and one which many refuse to think about because it would cause a lot of inconvenience. 



It is timeless in that it is embedded in most religious tenets and all societies have definite or loosely defined terms of reference equivalent to the stance, back lift, the virtues of discipline, commitment, fitness and practice. 



I am not sure who lost out and who benefited from someone refusing to be true to the fundamentals.  Life is long and can be quite an equalizer.  Sometime it takes years and decades (ask Rajitha Dhanapala, Chandana Panditharatne or Assagi Ranasinghe).  It is easier and more fruitful overall to do the right thing at the right time, if you really think about it.  That boils down to another ‘fundamental’: values. And it doesn’t matter if they are underwritten by notions of a supreme being waiting to judge or notions of natural justice as in the paticcasamuppada, the principle of dependent origination or some other ‘law’ drawn from other cosmologies. 



These are hardly the things that come to mind or are talked about during a ‘big match’ of course; but then again all human beings, thanks to inherent frailties, tend to go wrong and that’s when the simple observation made by Ranjan Madugalle almost three decades ago could show a pathway. 


*First published in March/April 2011
malinsene@gmail.com

22 February 2012

21:34

By Malinda Words

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The Ranjan Madugalle Column

Ranjan Madugalle remembers Jagath Fernando’s classic 160 not out in the 1971 Royal-Thomian.  I remember being at that match and I remember savouring the scorecard of that match in the 1972 Royal souvenir which had just one dampener, Gajan Pathmanathan being out at 97.  Ranjan remembers Gajan getting out. 
I remember Ranjan walking back after a poor show in the middle in the Big Match of 1975.  He was just 15 then.  Tiny.  I remember reading about his exploits in Pakistan the following year when as a 16 year old he took 8 wickets to help Sri Lanka’s Under 19 team annex the Ali Bhutto trophy.  I can’t remember remembering this fact more acutely than when Mahinda Halangoda and Chandi Richards denied Royal a win in the Centenary Match (1979). I wished Ranjan, who captained Royal in that match, had brought himself on. 
I was just 11 years old then and the controversy surrounding his selection for the Ali Bhutto Trophy game went over my head.  I remember thinking, years later, when the issue was brought up, ‘yes, maybe it was unfair, but he was given an opportunity and seized it with both hands’.  The fact is, Ranjan was a phenomenal talent. 
Cricket captains were held in awe by schoolboys.  Ranjan Madugalle captained twice and was such a performer that he walked or was thought to walk a few inches off the ground unlike other cricket captains.  The fact is, he was always grounded. 
He was very fond of my mother, who was his teacher and who claimed she had carried him as a baby.  I was known, therefore.  I remember Ranjan once catching me on the corridor.  Our class (7F) was next to the prefects’ room and Ranjan was the Head Prefect.  He asked me a question and not having heard what he said I said (in a questioning tone) ’….aaah?’  He said that there was no such word and that if I didn’t hear, I must say so.  A few weeks later he caught me on the corridor.  He mumbled something.  I started with the habitual ‘aaah?’ and quickly changed to ‘what?’  He smiled and said ‘that’s better!’ 
I remember Ranjan and Arjuna Ranatunga saving Sri Lanka’s blushes in the first innings of the first ever test (1982, P.Sara Stadium against England).  I remember listening to the commentary when he scored his maiden hundred (against India) and how the commentator observed that he had got out ‘to a shot by a tired man’.  I remember listening to the commentary during the classic partnership he put together for NCC with Sridharan Jeganathan.  I went for the first test but the other two incidents were random – I hardly ever listened to the radio. 
I remember Ranjan losing his cool only once, when he was hitting the Australian attack to all corners of the field and got into a war of words with Rodney Hogg.  I think Hogg bounced him and it annoyed Ranjan.  I think Hogg got his wicket and had choice things to say to Ranjan as he walked away.  I remember Ranjan stopping in his tracks to (presumably) exchange ‘pleasantries’ with Rodney.  I can’t remember if we won or lost but I think either Ranjan won it for us or else brought us close. 
I met Ranjan a couple of days ago when I went to meet my oldest friend, Rajitha Dhanapala.  He said he was at the Royal-Thurstan match.  When we were chatting he had seen Ranjan.  I hadn’t seen him since my mother’s funeral a little over two years ago, so we strolled to the other end of the ground passing the J.R.Jayewardena pavilion to where he was sitting with several other old Royalists, cricketers all, among them Jagath Fernando, Jehan Mubarak and Zulki Hameed.
He recognized both of us, got up and greeted us.  He greeted me as ‘Mister Editor’.   So we talked about ‘The Nation’ and I asked him to write a column.  He said that Sa’adi Thawfeek, our Sports Editor had made the same request many times but that he was constrained by contractual agreement (with the ICC).  He added, ‘I asked Sa’adi what had happened to you since I didn’t see your articles and he said “we told him to stick to one paper instead of writing to all the newspapers like a prostitute”.’   We had a good laugh over it, and I told him that these days the first article to get the chop for lack of space is mine. 
Getting back to ‘columns’, he said that I could write his obituary notice (for free).  I laughed and said I will write an appreciation.  We don’t know when death comes, so I don’t know if I would be around to do either, so I thought I would write this now. 
A year ago, almost, I wrote an article for the ‘Daily News’ titled ‘On Ranjan Madugalle’s ‘lesson’ in 1982’.  It was something he said when invited by the then Principal of Royal College, L.D.H. Peiris to be a guest speaker at the school assembly.  This is what he said:
‘Whenever I am out of form, getting out cheaply or to poor shots, I revert to the fundamentals.  I go back to the nets. I check my stance. I check the back-lift.  Things like that.  Invariably, I start performing better.  That is a life lesson. Whenever we go wrong, it is good to ask yourself if you’ve got the fundamentals wrong.  Basic things like discipline. Like values.  You will always find that that’s where the problem lies.  That is what needs to be corrected.’
Ranjan Madugalle is not a columnist.  He is not allowed to write or speak to the media.  He spoke to me about the things that people who have known each other for more than 30 years talk about.  Light banter. 
He’s written his ‘column’ in the middle of the ground and outside the boundary line.  He was a technically sound batsman.  He was sound.  He is sound.  Day in and day out.  And that, my friends, counts for a daily column running continuously for over thirty years. 

06 September 2011

17:04

By Malinda Words

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Reflections on ‘The Ponting Principle’


Former Australian Captain Ricky Ponting
The Australian cricket captain, Ricky Ponting, is unarguably one of the best batsmen the world has ever seen. His career statistics in all forms of the game makes awe-inspiring reading: total of 11,435 runs in Tests (average: 55.88) and 12043 in ODIs (average: 43.32).  He has scored 38 Test centuries and 28 in ODIs.

In the first Semi-Final of the ongoing Champions Trophy in South Africa, Ponting scored an unbeaten 111 of 115 balls and with Shane Watson (136 not out, off 132) to see off a resurgent England team.  It was not ‘extraordinary’ on Ponting’s part because he is so good that one almost expects him to deliver each time he walks out to the middle.

Sri Lanka is out of the tournament after weak outings against England and New Zealand following a clinical performance against hosts South Africa. The sports pages this Sunday are full of cogent post-mortems on Sri Lanka’s early exit. I am sure Kumar Sangakkara, the selectors, coaches and others involved with cricket in Sri Lanka will have their own theories and, if they are not arrogant, will at least read these analyses and pick up some tips for the future. 

I am hopeful, too, that they will not miss a brilliant 3-word explanation of success offered by Ricky Ponting regarding the secret of his team’s success: ‘Respect every ball’.  That was his message to his team mates before taking on England, a team that the Australians thrashed 6-1 just a few weeks ago.  The subtext is very clear: no complacency, nothing frivolous, no showmanship; just discipline and hard work in the middle. It worked.  I would say it works most of the time. 

What is respect?  It is about treating each delivery on its merits. It is also about playing the percentages; taking risks only when you can afford to take them and milking the singles until you are set. If Shane Warne offers you a full toss you don’t pat it down back to him because he is Shane Warne: you clobber it over midwicket because it is a loose ball meant to be put away. This does not mean that Shane Warne is having an off day, it must be remembered.  His next delivery could be a replica of the ball-of-the-century (his first on English soil) at Old Trafford when he got the ball to pitch several inches away from the leg stump and turn back to take Mike Gatting’s off stump.  What came before, then, could give an indication of what can come next, but all you should take away is the confidence.  Going overboard might get you a couple of boundaries but the law of averages will play out and often this could be the difference between victory and defeat.

Treating every ball with respect is easier said than done. It takes hard work by way of preparation. It requires discipline and a commitment to both team and self to go the extra mile, i.e. to work on all aspects of one’s game, especially those elements which a coach cannot hone beyond a particular point. You can have all the respect you like but if you don’t have the skill (and this includes mental preparation, positive frame of mind and a thinking cricketing brain) you are probably not going to score with the consistency of a Ponting or Tendulkar.

ICC Chief Match Referee and former
Sri Lankan Captain
Ranjan Madugalle
I remember Sri Lanka’s former captain, Ranjan Madugalle commenting on life using a cricketing example: ‘Whenever I find myself getting out early, or consistently getting out in the same manner, I go back to the basics:  my stance, my back lift, things like that.’

‘Whenever you go wrong’, he told a hall full of schoolboys, ‘you have to get back to the fundamentals, find out where the error is and work hard to correct it’. 

This requires, among other things, a strong capacity to be humble. There are three things that inhibit learning: laziness, arrogance and the unwillingness to suffer the pain. 

Kumar Sangakkara will bounce back, I am sure because he has a mind and he can employ it to discover all the chinks in his armour. How about the rest of the team? How about politicians, officials and citizens?

‘Respect every ball’ is a lesson that can be applied in all engagements, I believe, where these is contestation of one kind or another, for example, foreign affairs. We know there are bowlers who are difficult to negotiate. We know there are bowlers who may not have the speed or variation but will bowl a nagging line and length. We know there are bowlers who can turn the ball on any wicket. We know also that there are good bowlers who will have off-days, bowl a wayward line and an erratic length. We must not forget that there are rank bad bowlers who can have a good day at the office, who can even come up with a peach of a delivery now and then. 

In the international arena, we get people who are pretty ordinary, in terms of intellect, integrity and diplomatic endowments. Most of these ‘bowlers’ can be put away without too much sweat. On the other hand, even an ordinary bowler can be counted on to attack a batsman’s known weakness and sooner or later get him out. The lesson: cannot afford to be complacent.

We also have to take note of the second key word in the Ponting Principle: ‘ball’. You play the ball and not the man. Sure, it is good to have a sense of the bowler’s character, history and so on, which no doubt gives the batsman a clue about his thinking process, but in the final instance you have to deal with ball and now who delivers it. 

‘Respect the ball’ is made of three simple words. Behind the words is a philosophy that can make a huge difference in the success rate if applied comprehensively to our engagements. Let us hope that Sri Lanka Cricket takes note and let us all read deep into what Ricky Ponting said. It won’t harm us, that’s clear.

Courtesy: Daily News - 5 October, 2009