The Indian Express (Delhi Edition)
The unpleasant soundtrack of the boo
RIPPLING BOOS could be the most familiar soundtrack for Hardik Pandya’s ears this Indian Premier League (IPL) summer. In Ahmedabad, he was the 'betrayer', the man who took Gujarat Titans to heaven and then left them hanging midair. In Mumbai, he was the prodigal son who displaced their beloved son (Rohit Sharma) as captain; in Hyderabad, one of the places where Hardik was booed, he was the embodiment of all that’s fundamentally flawed with franchise cricket culture, its swelling tribalism and intolerance. So they jeered, and so they could continue jeering him.
On the field, Pandya has done little to flare the fumes of angst, but he has already provoked Mumbai Indian fans by switching loyalties from Gujarat Titans to Mumbai. So have several other cricketers in the past, without much fuss or fire, and the audience have not cared or bothered much. Chris Gayle has featured for four different clubs in the league, but nowhere was he booed. Even Pandya would testify. After eight years with Mumbai Indians, when he turned up in the Gujarat Titans shirt at the Wankhede in 2022, he was not welcomed cordially, but the crowd didn’t resort to booing or heckling. After all, inter-franchise rivalries are not yet deeplyset in the country’s cricket consciousness, unlike in football or basketball where club culture and its attendant vices have a long and tumultuous history.
Stranger is Mumbai Indian fans booing their own captain, an integral part of their golden years, one that is the rarest of rare species in the country, a fast-bowling all-rounder, one that has influenced several games for them in the past, one that could still win them trophies, which, by the way, the team has not in three years. But it often takes little to dislike a person these days.
The Wankhede has witnessed worse. It has seen Sachin Tendulkar — its finest product, its insignia in world cricket, the man that cannot be unloved — being booed when he perished for a 21-ball-1 against England during a Test match in 2006. Nothing then should shock the world. If they could subject Tendulkar to the sound of displeasure, they could mete out this treatment to anyone, or everyone. Two decades before this, the Eden Gardens crowd threw fruits at Sunil Gavaskar during a Test against England, not just for the slow tempo of batting but because he had just replaced Kapil Dev, the darling of the masses, as the team’s captain. At the toss, they would chant “No Kapil No Test”. He vowed never to play at the Eden Gardens and kept his word, even famously sitting out of a Test against Pakistan in 1987. Sachin's batting heir Virat Kohli too was chorused with “cheater cheater” screams at Wankhede in 2013. Kohli would retort: “Don’t forget, I play for India too.”
So does Pandya. But perhaps such nationalistic sentiments have begun to erode in the evolutionary leap of the league, in its 17th edition, with arguably a different set of consumers and fan-base. A league shaped in the mould of the European football league, it’s natural that it inherits some of its traits too, both the good, bad and those in between.
In football, it’s now part of the matchday experience. Few games pass without a wave of boo (directed at players, owners, government, or the world at large) , or a taunt, or “traitor” jersey. It’s only when the hues of racism creeps in that the incidents acquire a sombre shade, or when a famous player switches to their bitter rivals.
As was with Luis Figo, the Portuguese midfield virtuoso when he moved from Barcelona to Real Madrid. When he returned to Camp Nou, the fans he incensed flung in the head of a pig, besides cigarette lighters and beer bottles directed at him. A year later, the legendary Zinedine Zidane would join him from Italian superpowers Juventus, kicking off the galactico era of Real Madrid. Zidane was always welcomed warmly in Turin. But the man who replaced him, Pavel Nedved, the blonde-haired playmaker from Czech Republic, was mocked “all hair, no skill” after his initial struggles. But in the next eight years, he transformed into one of their legends, a hero of the masses, Ballon d’or winner, and, after retiring, served a seven-year term as the vice chairman of the board of directors.
Similarly, a clutch of performances could win Pandya the love of the Mumbai Indians faithful. There is no opinion that match-winning shows and trophies cannot alter. If he could overturn the horrific start to the season and finish strongly, he would be reinstalled as a hero. History teaches you. The same Mumbai hecklers would cheer for Tendulkar for another decade; they still do when they spot him. So do they for Kohli, and so do they for Gavaskar when he enters the Eden Gardens, often as a commentator.
Though Pandya looked crestfallen at the crowd response, he would only channel the hurt to achieve something fruitful. A fierce siege mentality has driven him throughout his career, from his humble beginnings to off-field scandals like the Koffee With Karan faux pas. Whether he wins the crowd back or not, booing would turn into a recurring reality of IPL. A soundtrack that would buzz more frequently in the ears of fans and players.