EMPTY ARENAS, SOUND OF SILENCE: WORLD OF SPORT BRACES FOR NEW NORMAL
NEWDELHI: When the most influential career in Indian sport ended in 2013 – which momentarily felt like all of sport itself had come to a halt, like it has today – the retiree was unequivocal about what he would miss most. “The memories that you have left me with will be with me forever and ever. Especially ‘Sachin, Sachin’ – that will reverberate in my ears till I stop breathing,” said Sachin Tendulkar at the end of his farewell speech, blinking back tears and addressing the spectators at Wankhede Stadium.
Not his strokeplay, which stretched our imagination. Not even his hundredth hundred, which stretched his career into a 24th year. Only the sound of the crowd, which forever reminded him of its presence with a chant of his name; and by his own admission, continues to do so.
For a sportsperson, any sportsperson, the sound of the crowd is the first and possibly the least adulterated feedback. Before that shot is beamed to a million television sets, before it causes a Twitter trend and before it earns trophies and makes the player richer by several zeroes, the sound of the crowd is the most instantaneous paycheck. The kind of paycheck that makes even the all-time greats—with careerearnings the size of a small nation’s GDP —coming back for more. Just ask the greatest of them all, Roger Federer.
In 2018, Federer won his 20th (and thus far final) Grand Slam at the Australian Open. He did not break down when he accepted and kissed the trophy, or even when he thanked his team for helping a near-38-year-old body achieve the ludicrous. But when he addressed the crowd at the end of the speech, his eyes welled up. “You guys. You fill the stadiums, you make me nervous, you make me go out and practice. I’d just like to thank you for everything,” he said with a lump in his throat. “It wouldn’t be the same without you guys,” he said, a hand on his face to wipe away the rolling tears. Sporting events are slowly beginning to resume, but behind closed doors. At least for the near future, the new normal will be the empty stadium. No matter how big the sport, or how big the match, it will be played to vacant seats. The sound, fury and joy of the crowds will be missed—by those playing, and those of us watching on TV. To illustrate this point, allow me to take you back to the Delhi Test of 2017 – a game of cricket so far ahead of its time that the Sri Lankan team played with face masks, albeit due to pollution and not Covid-19.
On the fifth and final day of the Test, a large enough crowd had packed the stands of the Feroz Shah Kotla Stadium; they were largely quiet as the game moved towards a draw. After a long period of lull in the stands, Virat Kohli had had enough. Kohli’s bowlers were tiring and he decided to administer them with the most effective drug – love from the crowd.
From his fielding position in the slip cordon, the Indian captain waved his right hand at the West Stand. When he had their attention, Kohli cupped a palm behind his right ear – Hulk Hogan style – and the West Stand roared. Then he held his hand out, like a traffic cop, and the noise vanished. He turned towards East Stand and repeated his gestures – hand wave, cupped ear, palm out
– and East Stand obediently followed. Kohli laughed and held both his hands out—when he raised one hand a stand bellowed and when he raised the other hand the other stand bellowed. He moved his hands rapidly, like a man juggling invisible balls, and the Kotla came alive. Next over, a 198-ball stand was felled with Dinesh Chandimal’s wicket.
In the post-pandemic world of sport, what sounds will stadiums produce in the absence of spectators? Domestic sport in India, including cricket, is largely played in front of empty galleries. The handful that dot these yawning and silent stands are sports journalists. As a social experiment, we asked the sports reporters in this newspaper to relive their most cherished experience from an empty ground. Almost unanimously, these experiences hinged on sound.