Stumped in the Bubble
The Narendra Modi Stadium in Ahmedabad. Photo courtesy: BCCI
Given how the pandemic’s second wave has devastated India, the BCCI’s decision to postpone the IPL should’ve been made much earlier. Cricket, in the time of crisis and tragedy, had felt plain wrong.
After he decided to leave the 2021 Indian Premier League season and return home to Australia a couple of weeks ago, cricketer Andrew Tye grappled with the philosophical and ethical concerns about the IPL continuing amidst the ongoing COVID-19 crisis in India. The Rajasthan Royals bowler said to an Australian cricket website:
“From a player safety point of view, we’re safe now. But is it going to stay safe? But looking at it from an Indian point of view, how are these companies and franchises spending so much money, and the government, on the IPL when there’s people not being able to get accepted into hospital?”
"If sport can continue and be one of those avenues to relieve stress or give a glimmer of hope that the world is OK and there is light at the end of the tunnel, I think it should go ahead. But I know that’s not everyone’s feelings and I completely respect everyone's views from all angles.”
Therein lay the existential question over the IPL’s continuation. Calls for the league to be called off grew louder. Finally, the lucrative T20 cricket competition was indefinitely postponed on May 4, after four franchises reported positive COVID-19 cases, despite the ‘bio-bubble’ for the participants. The Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), along with the IPL’s governing council put out a statement after an emergency meeting, announcing that they had. “unanimously decided to postpone IPL 2021 season, with immediate effect".
The BCCI does not want to compromise on the safety of the players, support staff and the other participants involved in organising the IPL. This decision was taken keeping the safety, health and wellbeing of all the stakeholders in mind.
These are difficult times, especially in India and while we have tried to bring in some positivity and cheer, however, it is imperative that the tournament is now suspended and everyone goes back to their families and loved ones in these trying times.
The BCCI decided to have a rolling caravan for IPL 2021. Prima facie, this was to keep the power structure in balance and keep various state associations happy. How else, then, can you explain the recently refurbished and renamed Narendra Modi Stadium being allotted the most IPL games?
Given how the pandemic’s second wave and breakdown of the healthcare infrastructure has devastated India, this was honestly a decision that should’ve been made much earlier. Cricket, in the time of crisis and tragedy, had felt plain wrong. And with the rising cases in the pandemic, it was a matter of time before the IPL would be affected, too.
From the board’s press release, perhaps the most significant line was the second last one: “The BCCI will do everything in its powers to arrange for the secure and safe passage of all the participants in IPL 2021.” We can infer, thus, that the IPL won’t be returning for a while. This may also impact India's chance of hosting the 2021 T20 World Cup, scheduled to held in October and November. A third wave of the pandemic is expected later this year, too. For a country whose economy and healthcare system are in shambles, and whose image as a viable investment hub has been smashed, the IPL’s postponement and the potential future loss of the World Cup come as more crippling blows to India’s image.
But perhaps, we should address the BCCI’s initial gross misjudgement: having the IPL in India in the first place. After the UAE successfully hosted the league last year for the BCCI, it seemed like the most logical region to do so again, given the stricter protocols, citizen obedience, and their rate of infections and recovery.
For the BCCI, however, hosting the IPL in India was primarily about money and optics. An estimated ₹1100 crore was set to be generated from this year's edition, which the BCCI expected would smooth over the losses of 2020 on account of the pandemic. The BCCI needed to show that India could host a successful tournament and signal its preparedness for the upcoming World Cup.
Operationally, where the IPL organisers erred grossly is spreading out this year’s event between six different venues. This automatically increased the risk of the bio-bubble getting pricked. In March, weeks before the IPL was set to begin, Mumbai and Pune were being viewed as the most logical host cities. Mumbai, India's financial capital, did make the most sense: It is host to three international cricket stadiums, in addition to practice grounds. Plus, there is no shortage of five-star hotels in the city. The Wankhede Stadium and Brabourne Stadium are a stone's throw away from each other, and both are in the vicinity of south Mumbai's top hotels. The DY Patil Stadium in the far suburbs of Navi Mumbai was the third stadium, and thanks to the excellent road connectivity from Mumbai to Pune, the drive would have taken less than hour and a half. In this scenario, there would have been no need for air travel.
But before the surge of COVID-19 cases in Maharashtra, the BCCI decided to have a rolling caravan for IPL 2021. Prima facie, this was to keep the power structure in balance and keep various state associations happy. How else, then, can you explain the recently refurbished and renamed Narendra Modi Stadium—the biggest cricket ground in the world with a seating capacity of 110,000, as well as the BCCI secretary Jay Shah’s home venue, and in the Prime Minister’s home city of Ahmedabad—being allotted the most IPL games, including the play-offs and final?
The BCCI has always been a political tool, but now with the board being run by the kin of the ruling government’s leaders—including Shah, who is the son of Home Minister Amit Shah—it is entirely a political body. Choosing the caravan-style model to appease the power structure ultimately proved to be the IPL’s undoing, making it far likelier for the bio-bubble to be breached. You can argue that when the decision was taken the country’s guard was down, with international cricket being played in stadiums where fans were in attendance as well as the Road Safety World Series in Chhattisgarh. But mistaking this as a sense of normalcy proved detrimental.
The IPL’s first case emerged days before the tournament began, with former India wicketkeeper Kiran More, part of the Mumbai Indians’ coaching set-up, testing positive. The franchise implemented contact tracing and zeroed in on the place that More got the virus, which was an airport from where he was taking a flight. This underlines the theory that having the IPL in one city and not relying on air travel would have significantly decreased the chance of the bubble being breached.
Hereon, unfortunately and obviously, it was only a matter of time that the tournament’s bio-bubble would burst. The task was bigger than keeping the cricketers themselves in check. Instead, it was going to be about monitoring administrators and state association officials, and keeping in control the rich franchise owners and their coteries, many of whom were visible sitting without masks in VIP enclosures during matches.
The tournament began on a sombre note, with cases on the rise across India. From the outside, the lazy narrative from the IPL organisers was that the players were secure and in the best of care. While that was temporarily true within the bubble, there was no denying that the cricketers inside this space were far from immune to the devastation of this pandemic. Even when confined in the bubble, they had to deal with the cries of real people, dealing with real problems. The players, when not on the field or in training, had to spend time away from the game, attempting to managing situations for family and friends in need back home, around the country.
Many inside the IPL bubble had deaths and illnesses in their circles back home. How were they supposed to keep their minds focused on the cricket? How were they expected to leave it all behind and go on playing?
Imagine being an Indian cricketer in one of the eight IPL franchises, reading and watching and getting updates from home of the devastation. Think of the number of capped and uncapped Indian players, as well the other administration staff of the franchises, who constantly received calls from family and friends seeking assistance in procuring oxygen cylinders and hospital beds. Many inside the IPL bubble had deaths and illnesses in their circles back home. How were they supposed to keep their minds focused on the cricket? How were they expected to leave it all behind and go on playing?
Some, like England’s Liam Livingstone, were willing to make the sacrifice early in the tournament and return home. MS Dhoni, whose parents tested positive when the IPL began, chose to remain with Chennai Super Kings and fulfil the responsibilities of a highly visible job where the pressures are immense. It came down, ostensibly, to priorities and that quintessentially desi word, majboori.
There was just one Indian cricketer who left the IPL to be with his family as the COVID-19 pandemic wreaked havoc: R. Ashwin. This is a man with 409 Test wickets to his name, and who has claims to being included in the game's all-time best allrounders. Ashwin could afford to exit the IPL, but could the same be said of a Harpreet Brar or Chetan Sakariya, young uncapped Indian cricketers who need the money and platform?
As fathers, sons or brothers, think about the uncertainty that ran in the minds of so many players. Were they in any state to continue playing and performing? In such a scenario, the mental health of the key participants to the IPL, the cricketers themselves, was no doubt impacted. This was by no means a factor in the BCCI’s decision to postpone the IPL, but there is reason to believe it would have been, had the tournament proceeded.
Before its postponement, cricket was indeed a soothing balm for many suffering from COVID and related stresses in these times; I know many such people who needed this balm, and I myself looked forward to watching IPL matches when I was down with the virus over a month ago. And yet, there was a certain crassness to the way the tournament was paraded by commentators and its broadcaster, Star India.
As the tournament progressed and India’s daily death tolls skyrocketed, the detachment of the BCCI and the IPL from the reality of the situation across India rankled many. Commentators were still yelling when sixes were hit and wickets fell. Puns were made, jokes were cracked. The façade of a jolly good time in the studio was put up, even while, retired crickets-turned-analysts fielded phone calls when possible, to help arrange requirements for oxygen and medication.
Ruturaj Gaikwad of Chennai Super Kings. Photo courtesy: BCCI
Around two weeks into the tournament, Star India finally got its hosts and commentators to acknowledge and speak about the worsening crisis with concern and in slightly more detail. Mask up, wash your hands, stay at home—viewers were told. A public service announcement from a majority of Star’s commentary roster popped up several times before and during IPL matches. It was a step in the right direction; but the IPL, with its reputation connected the message to the Indian public in far more impactful ways.
I feel that at the very least, players should’ve worn black bands to mark the solemnity of the occasion, and take a moment of silence before each match. The broadcasters could’ve surely arranged ticker-tape displays—like news channels—with COVID-19 helpline numbers and fund-raising details. The eight franchises with their financial clout and foothold in various cities could have worked with Star to flash important local information on screen, such as where to buy medical supplies and how to fund ambulances and oxygen.
While several cricketers, former and current, took to social media to announce financial aid and assistance, such as mobile COVID-19 testing labs, the forced silence of the on-air commentators was jarring. Indeed, one of the most dismaying aspects of Indian cricket remains the fact that our cricketers remain—by and large—rather obedient to the BCCI, even after retirement. In England and the West Indies, most noticeably, we have seen public disagreements between cricketers and administrators. True, these stand-offs have not always been resolved amicably, but they have proven that cricketers in these countries are not just cardboard cut-outs.
In India, commentators sign contracts where it is undertaken that they will not comment on or criticise decisions related to team selection. In short, there will be no contradictory statements related to the BCCI’s decision-making. Unlike in countries such as England and Australia, most noticeably, this has resulted in an overall terrain of overtly self-complimentary and sterilised commentary in India from obedient experts. With financial livelihood at stake, it is understandable why so many former Indian cricketers do not take principled stands against the BCCI; but during this COVID-19 pandemic, when the IPL caravan shifted to Delhi, the most ravaged of Indian cities, was it too much to ask for commentators to speak up?
The forced silence of the on-air commentators was jarring. Indeed, one of the most dismaying aspects of Indian cricket remains the fact that our cricketers remain rather obedient to the BCCI, even after retirement.
It certainly appears so.
In the best and worst of times, sport has for centuries proven an elixir for human beings. Since the mass outbreak of the coronavirus pandemic in 2020, which resulted in a near-complete standstill of any major event and gathering across the globe for several months, it would have been tempting to discard the ‘triviality’ of sport. But sport, with its beautiful intricacies, its human-versus-human match-up, its power to instil hope, inspiration, and more, has a special ability to alleviate our state of mind.
Over the past year and counting, I have been reminded by many friends and colleagues of how live sport has uplifted their lives in these times of despair and desperation. When Test cricket resumed last summer in England, I had people who perhaps casually glanced at the five-day format, messaging to say how relieved and thankful they were to watch the West Indies captain Jason Holder bowl at his English counterpart Joe Root. A couple of months later when the IPL began in the UAE, my WhatsApp and social media pages were buzzing with comments of excitement. Watching IPL 2020 became an enjoyable experience for countless people around the word. It was as if the pandemic had been pushed into the background.
There is positivity in that, undoubtedly. Sport is an essential companion, and it needs to be around to uplift us. No one should feel guilty for watching the IPL in these times. It is a choice; and as easily as viewers struggling with illness or coping with loss had the choice to switch on to the IPL, so did the ones with similar struggles who opted to skip it. Unfortunately, in these social-media influenced times, calling out others and making them feel guilty is common behaviour. Individuals have the right to determine how they want to grieve, and if the IPL gave people a sliver of solace, then that must be acknowledged as well.
But the situation in India sucked the life out of IPL 2021, unlike the experience of the same tournament last year. I have not spoken to a single fellow sports journalist or media colleague whose heart was entirely inspired about covering IPL 2021. Numerous times during the last ten days of IPL 2021, when my wife Meha—a sports anchor and TV journalist—and I sat down over our cups of coffee each morning before discussing and scripting the topic for our daily videos for ESPNcricinfo, we said to ourselves: This does not feel right. We were going through the motions because we, like so many others, have bills to pay, and are financially dependent on the IPL.
The IPL had no business continuing as the death toll surged across India, but that said, there are citizens of this country that are reliant on the tournament. Its postponement has impacted the livelihood of the lakhs of people that the tournament employs, which include daily-wagers, production crew members from camera persons to floor managers to satellite feed coordinators and more, junior cricketers, office-bearers, freelancers, vendors, ad agencies, hotels and freelancers. So many domestic cricketers' livelihoods are dependent on the IPL too, and with news that many state associations have not paid their players their match fees for the previous domestic season, you can understand the desperation. The importance of the IPL for the nation—financially and for a healthy cricketing ecosystem—is undeniable.
In the end, the BCCI was cornered, largely due to its own pig-headedness, into calling stumps and indefinitely postponing the league. Given the enormity of the crisis we are facing, it was certainly the right decision.
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Jamie Alter is a sports writer and journalist in the digital world, having covered cricket around the world including three World Cups. After nearly five years working for ESPNcricinfo, Jamie served as Sports Editor of the Times of India Digital, Cricbuzz, Cricketnext and most recently as Group Sports Editor (Digital) at Zee Media. He also also authored two cricket-related books and dabbled in acting. You can find him on Twitter: @alter_jamie.
