Capturing the spirit of a game on and off the field
Prof. Priyan Dias looks at ‘An Island’s Eleven’ that charts how Sri Lanka embraced and excelled in a colonial legacy
Nicholas Brookes has written a wonderful book about “A history of cricket in Sri Lanka”, which is his sub-title. It captures the spirit of cricket in this country, and also its vicissitudes – ‘poignant’ is an adjective that came to mind while reading the book.
It is this poignancy that I wish to focus on in this article, and not so much the cricketing facts, which are also described with great detail and drama – for example the way Mahadevan Sathasivam scored a famous double century at Chepauk, the first hundred incentivized by a bet for a bottle of Scotch, and the second fuelled by it; or why Michael Tissera made a surreptitious start-of-play declaration to surprise Pataudi at Ahmedabad and win Ceylon’s first ‘test’ overseas; or again how Thomson dispatched both Duleep Mendis and Sunil Wettimuny with his thunderbolts at the Oval during the first World Cup in 1975, causing a constable at the hospital to inquire whether they wished to press charges!
The book is a labour of love, with extensive endnotes reflecting the painstaking research involved. I bless the Warden of S. Thomas’ College Mount Lavinia for giving the author a home in his school while writing the book, and hope its students were able to imbibe some of the author’s sentiments.
History can be a dry and dusty discourse, but generally not when it comes to social history honestly portrayed, something for which an ‘outsider’ like the author can have a genuinely favourable vantage point. Cricket, of course, was introduced to the island by the British, which is the author’s nationality. And while many aspects of colonial rule are critiqued today as arising out of the colonizers’ naked self-interest, the author’s descriptions of Ashley Walker, who promoted school cricket while a teacher at Royal College from the 1870s; and of George Vanderspar (in fact born in Galle in 1951), who promoted both club cricket and international tours (both incoming and outgoing) from the 1880s, portray them as Englishmen with a genuine love for both cricket and Ceylon.
In spite of this altruism, Sri Lankan cricket in the early days was largely a European preserve. The difficulty for ‘natives’ to overcome such prejudice is plainly articulated, for example in the captaincy of the Ceylon team that played the Australians in the mid-1930s going to W.T. Brindley, a high-ranking English police officer, rather than to the more deserving Ed Kelaart, a Burgher clerk in a tea firm.
But sport has a way of creating social mobility. The author spends some time on the exploits of M.K. Albert, a grounds boy from Kalutara who was included in the Ceylonese side touring Bombay in 1919, and who for most of the 1920s was “Ceylon’s most reliable run-getter, and a powerful symbol challenging the class boundaries which so rigidly segregated the island”. In fact, Albert captained Ceylon on tour against the Indian Central Provinces in 1931. The country had to wait till 1999 again before someone from outside the elite Colombo schools, i.e. Sanath Jayasuriya, held the reins again.
Throughout the book, the author captures the way in which dominance in the island’s cricket moved from Europeans to Sri Lankans; and also from the so-called elite schools (Royal and S. Thomas’ receive special mention, as does their annual encounter) to a broader base. Such movement can perhaps be seen as one of the most redeeming features of colonialism and elitism – which on the one hand contribute to a social polity by pioneering innovation and excellence, but on the other are prepared for such excellence (and its attendant privileges) to become more widely dispersed.
Another theme in the book is the way that Sri Lankan cricket lost the services of many of its best players due to limited opportunities for their advancement in the game; or to conflicts with opportunities in their careers as a result of the game. Laddie Outschoorn, Gamini Goonesena and Stanley Jayasinghe are examples from the first category – all of whom played county cricket in England with distinction. Although they were ambassadors for Ceylonese cricket, the Ceylon team itself was deprived of their services. Mentioned in the latter category are Darrel Lieversz, Michael Tissera, David Heyn and Anura Tennekoon, all of whom contributed much to Sri Lankan cricket, but were constrained by their work commitments, since theirs was the age of amateurism. In fact, Heyn, while on tour in India, found that his immediate superior at work had passed away, and that the position earmarked for him had been allocated to someone else in his absence! No doubt it hastened his departure to London to seek better prospects for his family.
The author is also forthright in his commentary on imbalances in political power, all of which serve as a backdrop for his cricket narrative. While cricket is supposed to be the epitome of fair play (the absence of which is often decried as “It’s not cricket”), the British brutality in the aftermath of the 1915 Sinhalese-Muslim riots is described as dismantling the notions of ‘British justice’. Later on, the introduction of S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike’s 1956 Sinhala Only Act is portrayed as setting the island on a “collision course”; and a subsequent government as “playing with fire” by “promoting a singular religious identity to a patchwork nation” through the 1972 constitution. It is not that the author is averse to national identity formation. He endorses team meetings becoming increasingly conducted in Sinhala rather than English and short Buddhist ceremonies before away trips as the islanders’ embracing of their Sri Lankanness. But he does not shrink from calling a spade a spade.
There are many stories in the book about Sri Lanka’s cricketing exploits, and those of her sons. But these exploits are interspersed with descriptions about them as persons. Arjuna Ranatunge, for example, who will be forever remembered for his captaincy of the World Cup winning 1996 team, is portrayed as a complex character. His support for Muttiah Muralitharan is, of course, well known, when the latter was unfairly accused of ‘chucking’ in Australia.
Murali’s comments about Arjuna in the book: “He supported me wholeheartedly…At the time war was ongoing: I’m a Tamil and he’s a Sinhalese Buddhist. But he never thought about race or anything…he took the decision that we are Sri Lankans. We are not divided by religion or race”. Less known is how Arjuna persuaded Aravinda de Silva to house Ravindra Pushpakumara at Aravinda’s parental home in Ratmalana, since commuting from Panadura was not easy for meeting training schedules. Pushpakumara says that Ranatunga’s parents also housed Sanath Jayasuriya and others. And Arjuna reportedly took cans of food from home while on tour so that he could eat with the youngsters, who were often left behind when the seniors went out for dinner.
But Arjuna’s later spell as Chairman of the Board of Control for Cricket is not described favourably. The author’s commentary: “The very qualities that had made him a superb captain hindered him when it came to running the board. In trying to operate with the same bullish single-mindedness, he seemed to alienate the players and taint his own legacy”.
Kumar Sangakkara is arguably one of our greatest products; not only on the field with an enviable test batting average of 57.4; but also off it, having been both President and Chairman of the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), and also being called to deliver the Colin Cowdrey Lecture on the Spirit of Cricket in 2011. He ruffled many feathers back home with his somewhat adverse comments about Sri Lanka’s cricket administration. But everyone remembers the speech for his promoting of a multi-ethnic and multi-religious Sri Lankan identity.
The author however, gives a clue to Sangakkara’s formation. On the one hand, his father instilled a strong work ethic in his son, something many have observed in the latter’s commitment to batting excellence. On the other, the Sangakkara home would have been the source of his values. The author writes: “In July 1983, when Sri Lanka turned in on itself, Sangakkara’s parents bravely sheltered thirtyfive Tamil friends in their home. Had they been discovered, there is every chance that young Kumar would not have reached his sixth birthday”.
Where batting artistry is concerned, the author goes into raptures about Aravinda de Silva, and especially his century for Kent in the Benson & Hedges Final in 1995 (in spite of Kent losing the game in the end). The author says: “Go and find footage of his innings online; I defy you to watch it and not feel joy course through your veins”. But Aravinda the person is described through Kent teammate Graham Cowdrey’s words: “I cannot believe any player, anywhere, has been so popular. Ari was an inspiration to me and the whole side felt the same. When he packed his bags, he hugged each of us and I have never known a professional sports team so close to tears”.
I return to 1996, which the author describes not only as a watershed for Sri Lankan cricket (through their World Cup victory), but also for the game itself – which took “a giant leap… from Victorian relic to modern money-spinner”. The resulting tensions between players and administration are also alluded to from time to time. Contrast this with the early days, e.g. in the lead-up to the 1975 World Cup in England, when it was not possible to budget for meals, and it was “arranged for the squad to attend endless functions where free food would be provided”.
I encourage readers of this piece to read the book itself. Although you will not get much change from five thousand rupees, it will enlighten your mind and nourish your soul.