From toast of the nation to pariah

India doesn’t know how to treat her heroes – Arjuna Ranatunga.

Alas, only the context changes and Ranatunga remains as relevant as ever.

If you’ve followed BCCI moves over the past some months, you tend to believe:

i. it was the forefather of one of the Board mandarins who smote Eddie Hemmings for four sixes in a row to avoid follow-on in that 1990 Lord’s Test;

ii. Anil Kumble is the first Indian to take 400 Test wickets;

iii. India got 175 runs extras in that crucial 1983 World Cup tie against Zimbabwe; and

iv. India won the 1983 World Cup without a helmsman and with a 10-man squad.

Indeed, affluenza-stricken Sharad Pawar and his fellow partners-in-crime in the cash-awash Board have not left any stone unturned in their effort to establish that Kapil Dev simply didn’t exist!

Since aligning with the ICL, Kapil has been ousted from the NCA – a decision yet to be conveyed to him, lost his pension (maybe because he was donating the amount to an NGO dealing with children), plans were dropped to rename the Mohali stadium after him, his mural was removed from the stadium and BCCI grudgingly agreed to felicitate him along with the rest of the 1983 World Cup winning team.

Make no mistake, not that I’m a great admirer of the man. For sure, Kapil keeps dubious company and he may froth at the mouth but all his promoting-cricket blah-blah is complete crap and it was Subhas Chandra’s moolah that led him to ICL.

But how on earth can you deny the fact that he led us to the Holy Grail in 1983 and, apologies to innumerable imposters and perpetual pretenders hovering around, is the only genuine all-rounder produced by India?

The board has treated him like a pariah. He has been dealt as if a stigma, not only a persona non grata but also He Who Should Not Be Seen With.

But what the BCCI pooh-bahs forgot is that cricketers necessitate administrators, and not the other way round. Umpteen Pawars and Modis have come and history has dumped them in the bottomless pit of oblivion. But legends live on.

That magical knock against Zimbabwe, the stunning catch of King Richards running backward…Kapil presided over that unforgettable Triumph of the Underdogs, the biggest upset in the world since David slew Goliath.

You can remove a mural alright. But fortunately, they are yet to discover a way to erase what is etched in the collective memory of the umpteen cricket fans.

Who is this imposter in cricket’s garbs?

It was one of those days when you regret working in the sports desk. Calculator was out and eyes glued to television as cricketers, in an unprecedented move, went under the hammer and their high-profile, deep-pocket bidders hammer and tongs.

Mind-boggling figures and strings of never-ending zeroes -- is it the game I claimed to be so familiar with? Or is it actually a garbled annual budget of Mr P Chidambaram, which somehow got leaked? Is not the business desk a better choice to handle the issue?

And finally I found myself confronting the question -- who is this imposter?

Richard Madley, the Dreweatts auctioneer who otherwise specializes in oriental carpet probably did not have an idea of the magnitude of the event. But he can’t be blamed either. See, Ricky Ponting is sulking he went cheap. And the likes of Brendan McCullum can’t stop laughing.

The Indian Premier League auction left me with an awful feeling. Only Paris Hilton could have been more brazen.

When industry is ready to pump in money, resisting the temptation is the actual challenge for the administrators. Succumbing to the lure should not be trumpeted around.

Cricket does need money, to ensure that the Aminis of Papua New Guinea continue to strive for excellence; to help Arjuna Ranatunga at the helm of a cash-strap board to efficiently run the domestic tournaments in Sri Lanka; to make sure that youngsters see a career in cricket.

But if cricket needs money, it needs its aura as well. When a kid picks up the bat or holds the ball fort the first time in his palm, career is a word he would probably misspell and to him, money’s only perceived worth is it can be bartered for a lozenge. More than money, he needs heroes. Heroes who would make grand appearance in his innocent dreams, inspire him to rise above himself and tell him to live his dreams.

Sadly, those who offer their soul under the hammer do not fit into this hero’s role.

Blinded by his Twenty20 vision, Lalit Modi understandably fails to see it but cricket actually got pauper on February 20.