Is the media doing enough for cricket?
We are caretakers of the game and have the responsibility to communicate its magic to fans. Are we fulfilling our duties?
(Disclaimer- This articles solely belongs to Harsha Bhogle, and the content duplicator Shashank Shrivastava doesn't takes any right of claim whatsoever is mentioned in this blog. This has been copied just for mass exposure of the article and blogger solemnly refer each word belongs to HARSHA BHOGLE.) While India and West Indies battle each other and the weather in the Caribbean, increasingly a forlorn part of the cricket world - columnists and Twitterati and erudite cricketers - sharpen their words and launch forth into battle on issues as wide as a highway. This is the lot of the modern media man. Where Cardus and Arlott could dream up the right word for the moment, and enjoy their wine, the journalist of today must scamper here and there, understand intrigue and the law, be at home with power struggles and rules that change half-yearly, and eventually have, or seem to have, an informed opinion on everything.
Many of us were drawn to this profession by the music of bat on ball, the photograph of the straight drive that we glued to our walls, by the joy of anticipation even as we waited in queues to enter the stadium. The squabbles and the intrigue, the pomposity of power and the timidity of those who accept it and complain later can leave some of us cold. But we are not allowed that. In the modern, connected world, not to have an opinion on certain matters, because you are not sufficiently informed, is to be timid; to wax eloquent with insufficient awareness, as with much of the DRS debate, is acceptable. As the game changes rapidly, as its finances wax and wane depending on where you live, so too has the role of the media person changed, not always for the better.
And so I believe it is time to start a debate on what the roles of the journalist and the commentator now are: one is increasingly expected to chase quotes and ignore the passages of play that could make the next day's paper interesting to those who missed the action; the other has to learn to condense thoughts and sharpen words before the commercial breaks take over. It seems grim times are upon the storyteller.
And yet our game is enlivened not by who voted for whom as the next president (that too is important, though it must remain subservient to the game itself) but by the thrill of short leg anticipating the next bat-pad chance, of the spinner playing on the vulnerability of the batsman who seeks to bully him, of the rampaging fast bowler and the counterattacking batsman. It is this that will draw the next generation in, but - certainly here in India - I read and hear so little of it. The prize catch for an editor is no longer the reporter with a feel for words that tell you what happened but the guy who knows which email went where it shouldn't have.
| | | | |
| |
| The prize catch for an editor is no longer the reporter with a feel for words that tell you what happened but the guy who knows which email went where it shouldn't have |
| |
| | |
|
Increasingly, too, as a commentator enjoys the timing that takes a lofted drive into the stands, he is reminded of the commercial obligation he has missed. It is no longer his job only to share his joy with the viewers but to remind them whose benevolence brings them the game. The viewers dislike the intrusion enormously - I'm amazed that brands don't seem to worry about that - but still, far too often it is mostly commercials that you see, amid a sprinkling of cricket.
Admittedly it is the commercials that bring in the money that enables technically better telecasts, but the line between content and commerce, once determined by those in charge of content, has ceded ownership to those who control the finances.
So what legacy does our generation leave for the next? We have always been told we are mere tenants of the game, caretakers who nurture it till the time comes to hand it over. We in the media, who pass judgement on caretakers in other areas, must now ask if we can leave our part of the game in better shape than when we inherited it. We complain about the role of money power in administration, but do we not accept the role of money power in modern broadcast media?
Are we leaving behind oceans of excellence or mere rivulets? Are we spending more time on developments off the field than those on it? Are we telling enough stories to capture the imagination of the young? Are we enticing them with our words and pictures? Are we cold and analytical or are we warm and jovial, or indeed, have we found the right mix of both?
As editors and producers commission articles and programmes analysing those who run the sport and play it, they need occasionally to ask themselves the questions they ask of others: are they communicating the splendour of our beautiful game enough?
"Unless we don't raise hands they don't raise hands." 
