Fan Frenzy: A Myth Exploded

In view of a strange new development, thirst too seems tohave become subservient to cricketing craze. 

Be thirsty,if you have to watch the Eden Test, that seems to be the bottomline after theCAB officials and the Kolkata police announced theirdecision that taking bottles of water was forbidden to the Garden of Eden asthese are potential weapons of violence with a possibility of ruining thegame. 

These officials cannot be blamed for their apprehension,for Eden has witnessed some bizarre scenes of late (I for one have no knowledgeof a test match played for security personnel only, as the last Indo-Pakone at the Eden was).  But to suggest, as is being done,that this epidemic called 'violence' is another recent virus to have affectedthe 'gentleman's game is to perpetuate yet another myth,to say the least. While an increased violence is indeed a matter of graveconcern, the diagnosis that democratisation of the sport leading to aplebeianisation of cricket spectatorship is its chiefcause is grossly untrue. 

Spectator violence in cricket dates back to 1776. In thatyear, in a match between Essex and Kent, the latter wereaccused of hiring a foreign player, triggering off a major crowd unrest. Bothsides went to the extent of bringing out guns resulting in the killing of apolice sergeant, and causing injury to manyothers. 

Drawing a leaf from their British counterparts, violence in Indiancricket too is not a rootless phenomena as is often made out to be. Crowdviolence and rioting in Indian cricket dates back to the late 1950s and early1960s. In the 1964 series against the visiting English team, bottles,coconuts and debris were thrown in the ground in Mumbai throughout the match.

 In Calcutta, in the same series,large hessian shades were set on fire The Test matchat the Eden Gardens later that year, was interrupted four times as frenziedspectators had set fire to the overhead gunny covers. Suchactivities, contemporary newspapers reported, left the Eden Gardens looking likea shanty town. crowd violence in the 1990s has been stimulated mainly by the membership stands

This trend of rioting reached its peak between 1967 and1969. 

Any cricket enthusiast commemorates the tragedy of January1, 1967 with deep shame, when the West Indian players had to flee the ground forsafety, when the crowd went wild in retaliation againstalleged police oppression, and it was only at Frank Worrell'srequest that they agreed to let the Test match becompleted. On this occasion, Conrad Hunte had to climb up the flag staffto prevent the West Indian flag from getting burnt andGary Sobers had to run wildly around the maidan to save himself from the wrathof the violent mob. 

In comparison however, thestampede of December 16, 1969 in search for tickets was even more tragic. It had left six dead and twenty two injured. While the 1967 riotsare at least remembered with shame, the martyrs of 1969, who literally died forthe game, have been lost to posterity. (Despite my utmost efforts I have beenunable to find their names in any contemporary newspapers)The cause of the violence was an acute shortageof six-rupee daily tickets, once again testifying to the immense popularity ofthe sport more than three decades ago. 

These instances were by no meansunique to Calcutta. In Mumbai on November 8, 1969, after the umpire haddeclared Venkatraghvan out against the visiting Australians,frenzied spectators had thrown bottles on the ground. InHyderabad in 1969 and in Mumbai again in 1975, instances of policemen beating up spectators led to widespreadviolence. Alarge numbers of spectators were injured, and in Mumbai anentire session of play was lost.

 Instances of crowd violence, was also notcompletely unknown to domestic matches. The Ranji matchbetween Mumbai and Baroda was abandoned when the crowd, raging against anumpiring verdict dug up the pitch.

Spectators hurled stones at the umpires,and Mumbai wicket-keeper Kiran Asher was injured in theeye. This outbreak denied Mumbai a chance to chase a meagre target of 168 runsfor a semi-final berth. While these instances are indeed comparable to therecent instances of crowd unrest in Kolkata (the 1996 world cup semi-finalbetween India and Sri Lanka and the Asian Test championship match between Indiaand Pakistan) they have faded away from popular memory and are now the part of the dusty shelves of newspaper archives. Thisis primarily because of the lack of extensive media coverage prior to 1983. As a result, news was confined to small locales. In starkcontrast nowadays, the influx of satellite channels and the featuring of cricketnews as first page newspaper leads have made even thedisinterested audience aware of what is happening on the cricket field.

 Are there any notable differences in the nature ofspectator violence across time? Even a cursory glance reveals a host ofdissimilarities. While earlier instances were fuelled mainly by the cheaperstands infested by the ordinary spectator, crowd violence in the 1990s have beenstimulated mainly by the membership stands. This is especially applicable toKolkata. If we recount the two earlier instances of unrest, we haveto accept that the outbursts were triggered by the hurling of Coke and Pepsibottles from the membership stands.

 Infact, in the first instance, i.e. in the world cupmatch, when sanity seemed to have been restored and the game was about toresume, another spurt of bottle throwing from the life-membership block forcedmatch referee Clive Lloyd to declare the match abandoned and the Lankans victorsby default. 

The point to note here is the change in the instruments ofviolence.  Earlier, orange and banana peels together with glass bottles used tocause the problems. Now, empty plastic soft drink bottles have taken over. Theseare sold by the sponsors inside the ground at Rs 50 a bottle. It goes withoutsaying that a plebeian cannot afford to spend 150-200 rupees a day on softdrinks, clearly a superfluous habit when one operates on a shoe stringbudget. 

The point is that we have wilfully allowed the reality of thesituation to escape our attention. Contemporary spectator violence is thehandiwork of the privileged lot, the educated elite, who with their paintedfaces and jingoistic instincts have taken over the cricket grounds. 

The critical question which now confronts us is 'why does thiseducated elite take to hooliganism?' After having spent Rs 300-400 on aticket, or Rs 12000 on a membership, alongside the amountson soft drinks, this crowd wants their money's worth in the form of a nationalvictory and nothing else is acceptable to them. Further, cricket matches inIndia are the only arena for a demonstration of national prowess and pride. Itcreates a 'spectacle' which makes us aware of our oft-forgotten Indian identity.The perception of being citizens of a developing country which fails to make itspresence felt internationally, either in sport or diplomacy, leads a large bulkof the educated mass to flex their muscles in the cricket field, their onlyavailable respite.

It cannot simply be explained by suggesting that violence isa product of the democratisation of the game and the plebeianisation of thecrowd. In the 1960s and 70s, in all international and domestic matches, thecrowd was divided into small compartments separated by ropes. These enclaveswere led by the unemployed, yet talented dadas of various localities -- elementswho did not have the money for country liquor, leave alone Coke and Pepsi. They,no longer have access to cricket stadiums today, as their domination has beenusurped by the moneyed college going "educated",  jingoisticyouth. Accordingly, the answer to the question as to how violence can beeffectively stopped eludes us. 

Stopping people from taking water bottles may in turn increase violence bystopping the plebeian spectator from visiting Eden, knowing his inability topurchase Coke and Pepsi to quench his thirst. His place will be gladly usurpedby the moneyed elite, people who cannot, and will not be stopped by the policefrom purchasing soft drinks. So violence may well be on the cards, if thedirection of the cops' wrath towards the plebeian is not changed soon.

With another chicken-hearted performance from the home team this potentialhas magnified significantly at the end of the second day's play. People in theirpost-match rides home reflected on the 400-500 rupees wasted, reflections whichbecame violent at the smallest controversy. Traffic rules were violated withelan to show off  their strength against helpless cops who could just lookon. With the cops trying to control the huge and depressed masses, the grievanceagainst water is already on the upswing, a factor checked by Harbhajan'shattrick on the first day, and plans to overcome checks against carrying bottlesare well underway.

Having interviewed a series of spectators from the membership blocks on theirway home I was amazed at the intricacies of their plans. They have decided toget food from the best known restaurants of  Kolkata in aluminium foils,food the police will allow into the ground without questioning. With a layer offood on top, the second layer at the bottom, the conversations revealed may wellbe stuffed with inflammatory crackers. Having spent 500 already, another 500won't do them much harm these men consistently reiterated. What if some costlyfood is wasted? It will enable them to teach the cops a lesson, seems to be theunderlying sentiment. No wonder Jagmohan Dalmiya while visiting the press box inthe second afternoon, anxiously asked after Saurav's tame dismissal, "Mathe botlle ba bom porlo na to?" (There weren't any bottles or bombsthrwon on the field, I hope?)"

Despite being relieved so far, another top level security meeting may wellbe on the cards, given the volatile Kolkata crowd.