Anything in excess is poison. Cinema and cricket are always prime candidates. The game of bat vs ball, particularly, has now overshot all normal boundaries, thanks to IPL and courtesy its opening player, Lalit Modi. In just a few years, this contagious mental virus has seeped deep into the psyche of a vulnerable populace and sapped virtually every aspect of national life like no other epidemic.
This calamitous cocktail contains all toxic components like corruption, crony capitalism, commercial excess, celluloid overdose, conflict of interests and cash-and-carry betting, not to speak of scantily clad cheer leaders, usually seen only in the company of beer barons. Money, men, market, media and molls have all mingled, melted and been moulded together to form a mega monster that now threatens to swallow everything under its wide sweep. From children to cine stars to businessmen to administrators to police to people to politicos, all have been happily hooked to what essentially is a hellish project.
Given such frenzy, queering the IPL pitch may seem prudish, politically incorrect and very unpopular. In 2008, at the start of the first edition itself we had said in these columns that IPL does not augur well. Let me quote: ‘… forget match fixing, cricket itself looks fixed forever. IPL would convert it from a passionate art that combined brain and brawn into a mad display of mere muscle and money … And promising as it does unlimited booty for the organisers and unprecedented bounty for the players, besides loads of entertainment and excitement to the ‘audience’, it would be unrealistic to expect the various vested interests to resist the lures. Cricketers will not be remembered for their scores on the field but their price off it as they get auctioned and are declared ‘sold’! In this slave trade, money is the master.’
Call it prejudice or premonition, but IPL has only proven many skeptics like me right. The mind-boggling funds that get bandied about has stumped not just wide-eyed laymen but wizened lawmen. Tax and enforcement authorities are clueless on how to navigate the maze of transactions that cut across countries and currencies. The BCCI remains an untamed financial dragon, running amok under full official cover even though it primarily deals in public money. IPL has made a mockery of our financial system, from ministry, RBI, regulators downwards.
IPL scams have extracted a huge political price too by often stalling governance. Sports administration has always been the favoured playground of politicos across party hue. The scent of huge funds in every State board and the power at stake are natural draws to these predators parading as patrons. For most of them dabbling with cricket is more a pastime than a passion. And cricket makes for stranger bedfellows. The stark lines of antagonism that mark political divides somehow get blurred or are even erased as unlikely characters team up. Shady operators like Lalit Modi are masters at this vile game of guile, played in the shadows. Small wonder when he is in backfoot, big-ticket political wickets fall at the other end. From Shashi Tharoor to Sushma Swaraj to Scindias, those in or headed to pavilion and oblivion is a long queue. That the nation is suddenly obsessed over the wrong Modi is indeed a costly and wholly avoidable distraction.
But if it is IPL, should we not be talking cricket? Let’s do it at least in the slog overs now. Thanks to it the hoary gentleman’s game is a horrific gladiatorial arena. While the live action does get us hyped up, the choreographed touch imparted by cameras and commentary cannot be missed either. The bat is wielded like a club (club cricket?); the bowler could easily be replaced by a flinging machine. The fielder is the new ball boy, just watching the round missile whiz past and fetching it from the fences. The catching is now done in the gallery where spectators even get prizes for snapping up Gayle or McCullum, the usual sixer suspects. Such perversions are aplenty in 20-20.
But it is the cricket or celebrity crazed people who form the unshakeable foundation of this foul edifice. Every nook and cranny, not just in cities and towns, but villages too have turned gambling dens, with nary a wary eye looking. The well entrenched plague-league is destroying middle India’s moral fibre.
And also their fickle finances. Just a visit by two to the stadium for a single fixture (?) costs Rs 3000 to Rs 5000, what with pricey tickets, mandatory snacks and water and what not. Worse, the pint-sized wannabe Dhonis and Virats at home are addicted to this heady diet. A good bat, size 5, for a toddler is Rs 5000. From shoes to helmet for a single child can burn craters in the budget. Of course, we can’t let our kids cry, can we?
But what a loony, laughing stock Lalit & Co have made of us even as they walked laughing to the foreign banks! If not checked now, these racketeers may get hold of nuclear weapons. Last heard, many pinch hitters were getting bored with mere bats and balls!
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