T 20 Avatar in 3D

Tags: consumption, cricket, IPL, virtual | 1 comment | 1,010 views

Okay, I admit it.  One of the compelling reasons to come and visit my parents during a brief one-week break in the middle of the semester was the possibility of watching an IPL 20-20 match in Chennai.  A long way to come perhaps, but as a once avid cricket fan who has puzzled over the transformation of a once tranquil and languid game into its current supercharged avatar – cricket on steroids, you might say – there seemed to be no other way of understanding the changes of the last two decades (and not just in cricket) than direct observation.  So, I trotted off to Chepauk last Sunday to see Chennai get hammered by the Deccan Chargers.  Even from the stands one could feel the difference in temperament between the two teams.  The Chargers had their game faces on from the first ball and carried themselves as a team; the Super Kings looked flat and insipid by comparison.  When good things happened, the Kings celebrated of course: but when the going got rough, they played like atomized individuals.  More than anything else, this was a failure of captaincy and coaching, and, in hindsight, the outcome could have predicted right away.  But before I get carried away as an armchair critic, I should note that this little note isn’t about cricket per se, but my encounter with the New World of T-20 and more.

Perhaps the first indication of change was my young driver, who didn’t know where ‘Chepauk’ was.  This would have been impossible in the Madras I grew up in, when the stadium was a universal landmark, and memories of watching, say, Roy Fredricks flicking sixes over the fine leg boundary (in the first over) were something to be treasured for life.  (Yes, I know I’m dating myself).  Of course the driver knew how to get to Wallajah Road, but he was far more aware of the new Tamil Nadu Assembly building than the old stadium. This sense of distance, that cricket was something to be watched on TV rather than experienced in person, continued into the stadium.  I hate to admit it, but I got the distinct feeling that I was one of the only people in my section of the stands actually watching the game when sixes and fours weren’t being hit!  It should be said that the stands were ablaze with colour, sound, and life; every generation was present, from squealing toddlers to elderly patis, and huge quantities of Pepsi and curd-rice were being put away from the first over.  In other words, this could easily have been the Marina beach or the erstwhile Woodlands Drive In. And this was the second indication of what had changed.  The Kings’ golden-hued fans were enjoying themselves thoroughly — as they should – but they didn’t seem to appreciate the difference between rooting for their home team and cheering for a six, regardless of who set the ball in motion. Chennai fans have always been known for their sportsmanship, but this was something else.  20-20, as the League itself points out, is all about entertainment.  The game is only backdrop to the real thing, which is to go out in the evening, and be entertained by “huge” sixes and thumping boundaries.  Seeing Dhoni warm up is more important than Chennai winning the game; and, it should be noted, its impossible to realize how big a star Mr. Dhoni is without attending the game and seeing the raw adulation for this man.  By the end, it was clear to me that the fans enjoyed themselves far more doing the wave, eating and drinking, and singing along to Michael Jackson’s ‘Beat It’ than the game itself.  So what?  As the man says, it doesn’t matter who’s right and who’s wrong…

That said, I also came away thinking that the IPL, in its current form, is not sustainable, at least for old coots like me.  Of course the idea is fabulous on many levels and has struck a real chord around the cricketing world. At the same time, I’d like to believe that the rootless cynicism with which IPL organizers and owners have defined India’s demand for 21st century global style entertainment is going to make this contemporary Circus Maximus fall apart.  The fans are soon going to draw the line at being bottomless piggy banks when what they are getting in return is less and less.  The relentless selling of a faux global, conspicuous consumption lifestyle on TV – epitomized by soft drinks, mobile phones, and cars – now, even between balls, let alone between overs, continues into the stadium.  Where it would be nice to get slo-mo replays and useful statistics on the large electronic displays that flank the sightscreens, what we get is even more ads, entirely blurring the distinction between sitting at home and actually being at the game.  Surely, I tell myself, popular outrage will eventually kick in.  But I am probably entirely wrong.  The IPL’s problem is going to be, how can they make this blurring of the real and the virtual experience even more intense?  How, in other words, will they come up with a 3D version of the IPL?  The IPL now seems to me as a classic case of Baudrillard’s postmodern simulacrum, when images and virtual experience set the terms for ‘real’ life.  My driver didn’t need to know where the stadium was in order to participate in the IPL experience.  How retro of me to even think that way.  The real pity isn’t the speed with which the IPL has set about emptying the pocket books of fans and fools alike.  It’s that, at this moment in Chennai’s long and storied history, there doesn’t seem to be anything else better to do.

March 16th, 2010 | Category: Sports | (7 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
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