The spirit of cricket, heroism at moment of death and King Kohli
Postmortem of the Asia Cup final between Sri Lanka and India in some media, particularly on TV channels, made us go back to the fifties when we were told about the ‘spirit of the game’ both on the field and in the classroom.
India, much to our dismay, trounced Sri Lanka fairly and squarely by ten wickets in the final. There is no shadow of doubt about it and the ‘spirit of cricket’ made us accept the bitter defeat.
But the game, as most sports are today, is mixed up with hyper-nationalism and super capitalism while cricket’s pundits keep trying to cover all these developments with the fig leaf of the noble ‘spirit of the game’.
Some of the indignant comments made by the general public we heard on TV bordered on the ridiculous. “This an international conspiracy... We won 14 international matches in a row getting all the wickets of the opposing team... So how come we couldn’t get one out in the final?
“They would have charmed the ball for that man to get our wickets in one over... Even the Adhivasis (original inhabitants, called ‘Veddas’ till recent times) have expressed their sorrow at the Sri Lankan defeat... We will teach them a lesson in the World Cup...
The ‘spirit of cricket’ that we were taught is often recalled in the poem Vitae Lampada by Henry Newbolt. The first stanza says it all.
There is a breathless hush in the close tonight
Ten to make and a match to win
A bumping pitch and a blinding light
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it’s not for the sake of the ribboned coat
Or selfish hope of a season’s fame.
But his captain on his shoulder smote
Play up! Play up and Play the game.
The second stanza of the poem takes back the glories in the cricket field into a bloody battle where the spirit of cricket still emerges in a moment of disaster.
The sand of the desert is sodden red
Red with the wreck of a square that broke
The Gatling’s jammed and the colonel dead
And the regiment’s blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed its banks
And England’s far, and Honour a name
But the voice of the schoolboy rallies the ranks
Play up! Paly up and Play the game
The third stanza of the poem Vitae Lampada (Hand down the torch) goes back to school. This is the word that year by year
While in her place the school is set
Every one of her sons must hear And none that hears it dare forget.
It is said to be the story of a schoolboy at the famous college of Bristol who played in that memorable game described in the poem when facing death in a battle somewhere in scattered domains of England in Africa, while facing death with ‘England’s far and Honour a name’ recalls the words he learned on the cricket field.
Those were Victorian days, and time and cricket have obviously changed.
But what struck us most was that the beliefs and commitments of men learnt in the fields of sports or at home— their mothers knew—may persist and prevail in their thoughts while facing death.
Sri Lanka has had many such heroes in the Sri Lankan army and their antagonists in the 23-year-old civil war, too, would have theirs, although, as the saying goes, The story of the Hunt (Lions) will not be known until the Lions have their own historians.
The heroism of Captain Saliya Aludeniya, the second recipient of the highest wartime award of valour—the Parama Weera Vibhushanaya—has been reported and featured in the Sunday Times but is not often recalled by the people.
The 28-year-old Aludeniya had been a planter working on an estate owned by his family when he volunteered to join the Sri Lankan Army. After a brief training at Diyatalawa, he was recruited as a Second Lieutenant, and his unit with three officers and 58 men was dispatched to an outpost in Kokavil to guard a TV relay station.
On June 11, 1990, the Sri Lankan government ordered more than 600 police officers to surrender to the LTTE after it was reported that the stations were surrounded.
On June 16, there was a ceasefire. The captain in charge of the company and 15 others went on leave, leaving Lt. Aludeniya in charge.
On June 27, the company was surrounded and remained so for several days. It is believed that the LTTE outnumbered the company five to one. Food and water supplies were running short, as was their ammunition. In spite of requests, reinforcements never reached them.
On June 11, they were ordered to withdraw from the camp at the 11th hour, but it was too late. Aludeniya had wounded men whom he did not want to leave behind. Pledging that he would rather die alongside them, he ordered the only civilian in the camp, a cook, to leave and fought on till an adjacent fuel dump exploded, killing most of the defenders in the camp. His body was never recovered.
The final words spoken by Lt. Aludeniya to the Wanni Headquarters were: Don’t worry, sir. I will fight till I die. He was posthumously promoted to the rank of Captain.
This is heroism unprecedented in the annals of contemporary history in Sri Lanka.
Where did this 28-year-old married man, an old boy of Trinity College, inherit such courage not to save himself and not to leave his disabled men behind men under his command to be slaughtered by a merciless enemy?
Trinity College does not speak of his participation in sports.
Is it that every student in that school is expected to have that sense of patriotism? Or is it his family background, his father being a professional planter—the devotion and dedication of planters to their jobs being exemplary?
King Kohli
Since the commencement of the Asia Cup, we have been assailed on TV by the doughty deeds of ‘King Kohli’. The local channel relaying Asia Cup matches appeared to be linked to an Indian Channel which is committed to making Kohli the King of Indian cricket. There is no doubt that Virat Kohli is one of the most accomplished batsmen in the world, but being told about his deeds ad nauseam through hours of continuous monsoon showers holding up play is sheer agony.
Let’s hope that we are not subjected to this Kohli torture during the Word Cup commentaries.