Undisputed Champions, Unmistakably Petty
Undisputed
Champions, Unmistakably Petty
Ah, yes, nothing
screams “sportsmanship” like a team so allergic to humility that even handshakes
are now considered optional. Because why just win a game when you can also lose
all respect in the process?
Let’s start with
the obvious: nobody, and I mean nobody, denies that Team India has produced
some of the greatest cricketing talent in the last two decades. Legends, icons,
brand ambassadors, the whole package. Polished, respectful, disciplined. The
kind of players you'd actually want your kids to look up to.
But fast forward
to now, and it seems that the art of playing cricket has taken a backseat to
the national pastime of politicized pettiness.
For the past
eleven years, India has been speedrunning its descent down the ladder of basic
decency, as if there’s a gold medal at the bottom. The grace that once made
this team respected around the globe has been swapped for a style of
nationalism that feels less like pride and more like an identity crisis in a
cricket jersey.
And who do we
thank for this shift? Why, of course our Gujarati duo, the dynamic statesmen
who’ve rebranded sportsmanship into a flexing contest of who can wear their
political vendettas more proudly on the field. You know, the ones
affectionately known across many circles as Vote Chor because apparently,
winning elections with public support is just too passé when you can engineer
outcomes with a few tweaks to the system. Modern problems, modern solutions.
Let’s not forget
the Asia Cup domination India didn’t just win; it steamrolled the competition.
Undefeated, clinical, terrifyingly good. The entire world watched and nodded:
“Yup, that’s the champion.”
And then came the
magic moment, handshake time. Time to show the world that India wasn’t just
unbeatable on the pitch, but admirable off it. A moment to rise above the
noise, extend respect, and walk off like true sportsmen.
But no.
Instead, they
snatched defeat from the jaws of dignity. No handshake, no gesture, no nothing.
Just cold shoulders and a message: We play cricket like we run elections, full
control, no grace required.
You had the whole
world watching. A podium, a trophy, a historic win. A golden opportunity to
say, “Yes, we played Pakistan. Yes, it was hard. But today we represent
something bigger than grudges.” But instead of winning hearts, you chose to
play PR puppet for a bunch of insecure politicians and a media machine that
thinks basic courtesy is weakness.
Let’s be clear: if
the nation was truly so furious about playing Pakistan, then fine don’t play.
Boycott the game. Walk away. That would’ve at least been consistent. But once
you step onto that field, once you take the pitch and put the jersey on, you’re
not there to wage political war you’re there to play the damn game.
And once you’ve
played and won it’s not about personal pain, it’s about public character.
But no, that boat
sailed. India missed its moment to rise above. All because someone, somewhere
in a Delhi war room, decided that shaking hands was too “soft” and goodwill was
unpatriotic.
So here we are. A
team that conquered the tournament but couldn’t conquer its ego. Champions on
the scoreboard, but amateurs in the arena of humanity.
India may have won
the championship, but it lost something far more significant: the chance to win
hearts all over the world, including in nations that genuinely do not stand
with India.
Addendum: When
Politics Hijacks Cricket
And here’s the
kicker: when I first wrote this piece, I didn’t even know about Modi’s little
tweet dragging Operation Sindhur into the mix. Because nothing says cricket
victory quite like dusting off a military op for applause lines, right?
It’s as if the man cannot resist turning every achievement, sports, science,
even onions, into a campaign ad for his fragile ego.
It doesn’t look
good, hell, it looks pathetic when “Surrender Narender” shoehorns military
symbolism into a game that should be about sportsmanship. Exactly the kind of
political intrusion this article was calling out.
And what did all
that chest-thumping deliver? A team without a trophy. Because Modi’s ego, once
again, mattered more than India’s dignity.
What a shame. What
a waste. And what a small, low man to reduce the nation’s proudest sport to
another backdrop for his insecurity.
I am with you on this. We should not have played. But Shah's greed overtook sensibility. And once you decide to play, the gentleman's game has to respected. We are not goons in the field.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Ajay. Let me add a perspective here. In the Ramayana, Ravan is portrayed as evil, yet he was the one who performed the ritual for Ram when construction of the bridge to Lanka began. And after Ravan’s death, it was Ram himself who performed the last rites, since no one from Ravan’s family was left to do so. The lesson is clear: you can have enmity, but you don’t need to carry hate into every field of life. I have often written that terrorism is a political problem, not a people problem. Sports, in particular, is one arena where we have the chance to reduce hate, not amplify it. India could have set an example: taking the trophy from a Pakistani official with dignity and saying, “This now belongs to us, because we earned it.” That would have won respect across the world. Instead, the behavior on display sent a different message that we now mirror Modi and Shah’s arrogance, letting spite overshadow sportsmanship.
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