Time to protect Test cricket, preserve players like Pujara
India need to sort out red and white ball cricket contracts like England and Australia
STRAIGHT D
AFTER NINE YEARS AND 68 TESTS, PUJARA IS A RESPECTED ELDER, THE SCHOOL TEACHER AT A STUDENTS’ PICNIC. BORINGLY CONSERVATIVE, PUJARA STANDS OUT FROM OTHERS IN THE INDIAN DRESSING ROOM.
In a longish interview, Cheteshwar Pujara made a comment that there should be grace in life and in cricket. This passing remark captures the essence of the man and is, unwittingly perhaps, a pointed message to the Pandyas on the prowl.
Pujara, post Australia, is Indian cricket’s latest celebrity. Before that he was sitting in the shadows, largely unnoticed despite a splendid career. Now he is centrestage, celebrated for his role in India’s Test team.
Earlier, Pujara was seen as another Laxman, the likeable but somewhat tragic hero who wrote in his autobiography that he regretted not being assertive enough. The narrative around Pujara was similar, that of a good guy who got a bad deal. Missed out on IPL’s financial lottery, dropped unfairly from Tests in England.
Pujara is a worthy successor of Rahul Dravid, the solid number three Test batsman who blocks all day, causing bowlers to shed tears of frustration. With technique as an ally and determination a weapon, batsman Pujara is an activist sitting on an indefinite dharna. Patient as a sanyasi, Pujara uses denial to extract excellence from within.
Like Dravid, the narrative around Pujara is of a selfless professional who puts his head down to put team ahead of self. Little stirs him, his composure rivals that of MSD. Little excites him, he looks embarrassed exchanging high fives with teammates. Unable to understand the on-field language of Virat Kohli, Pujara speaks with the bat, not with words spat out in anger but strong statements made politely.
BAILOUT FLAWED
After nine years in international cricket and 68 Tests, Pujara is a respected elder, the school teacher at a students’ picnic. Boringly conservative, Pujara stands out from others in the Indian dressing room. No funky hair styles, tattoos or distressed jeans.
The recent pro-Pujara sentiment suggests he should be ‘compensated’ for missing out on IPL and ‘incentivised’ for focusing on Test cricket. Admiration and sympathy for Pujara is understandable but the argument for giving him a bailout package is flawed and does not fly.
If the intent is to save Test cricket, then the answer is to invest in making it attractive and reward Test cricketers. The BCCI is already doing this, having increased Test match fees to ~15 lakh per game. Pujara has a ~5 crore annual contract, same as MSD and Ashwin, whereas players who play all three formats are in the ~7 crore slab.
If Pujara is missing out on IPL it’s because T20 cricket is not his strength. Just as SRK, the king of romance, can’t do Tiger Zinda Hai like Salman Khan, Test champion Pujara is unequal to the challenges of the shorter format. Pujara, the bhajan singer, can’t belt out an item number.
LOPSIDED
When market forces decide IPL contracts, why would the BCCI step in to right a perceived wrong? If Pujara’s rejection is unfair, so is the success of Varun Chakravarty (~8.4 crores, after one Ranji game and one wicket) in comparison to Ishant Sharma (~1cr, after 426 first-class wickets, including 267 in Tests). Same for Prabhsimran Singh (yet to play Ranji) getting ~4.8cr while Hanuma Vihari gets only ~2 cr.
The BCCI can’t sit on judgement on IPL’s player contracts and should stay away from it. If Test players who fail the IPL test deserve compensation, there is then a case to reward top Ranji performers who don’t get picked.
Other countries have sorted out these matters. England hand out separate red and white ball contracts to players. Australia and South Africa rate player contribution in different formats to decide overall ‘value’ to the team when offering annual contracts. The underlying principle is all format players get bigger contracts.